Down the toilet with communications....

So the title of this post is literal. Today my mobile fell down the toilet...wonderful! This rather infuriating and annoying event got me to thinking and reminiscing. I am about to do the old "back in my day" thing, but I do recall what life was like pre-mobile phones and in my day, life was much simpler and less invasive if you like. No-one tracking me, no-one able to call me 24/7. Looking back, I'm wondering how the hell we coped!

I rely heavily on the technology of today. For instance just typing this blog on my laptop to put my opinions and stories out in the world. I communicate with family overseas via email and nowadays, Skype. I use my mobile as a phone and computer, it's really strange looking back and knowing that we had none of this technology and yet we progressed to gain it, and now that we have it we can't live without it.

After the dip in the loo, I got the hairdryer out and set about drying my phone. It turned on but something was clearly not right. I tried to make a call and it appears that my speaker is, and for lack of a better word, rooted. Vodafone (yes, I am stupidly still with the fleecing bastards) were completely useless in assisting me. I took my phone to a technician, and fingers crossed we'll find out if it's fixable tomorrow. If not, I have no other choice but to get jacked up the rear end sideways by Vodafone and pay extra each month for 24 months...ARGH!!! I'm not entirely sure what I pay them for now, because it's certainly not for good service. My calls drop out that frequently that my friends and I sigh and say "f***ing Vodafone" with a shrug. Isn't that just sad? They have brilliant plans, but no network to back it up.

Well, tomorrow is a new day. Maybe my phone will get repaired, and maybe Vodafone will screw me again and I will just have to suck it up and take it. Either way, I will have a phone tomorrow. In this day and age, I cannot survive without my communications. So down the toilet with the old, and hopefully into my hands with the new.

The walking dead...

So these past few weeks have been what I can only describe as hell in Shirley Temple curls. Molly has suddenly hit the terrible twos at the age of 18 months! I know it's wonderful to have an advanced child, but this is just not the advancement I was hoping for haha!

The poor little thing has been teething like mad. She is constantly covered in drool and as soon as she sees the Bonjela tube she gives me a smile of relief. The nappy rash and all the other disgusting bits that go hand in hand with teething are unpleasant for me, so I can only imagine how awful they must be for her. I feel so sorry for her little red and swollen gums, I wish that I could take all the pain away from her, and then she does something that makes my ovaries start to shrivel up. She throws herself down on the floor and begins to do what us Australians refer to as 'chucking a wobbly'. She has the art of the tantrum down to a tee. If my mother thinks that I was a great performer as a child, you can only imagine what my offspring would be like, and Molly excels at performing indeed.

The other thing that has become a battlefield in our house is bedtime. I find myself just saying 'I'm too tired and it's just easier to bring her to bed with us'. So I've made the classic mistake, but I'm fine with being a co-sleeper, but I would like Molly to get a decent nights rest/sleep and at the moment it's not happening. On top of this, I think my little bear is having night terrors. I have never seen anything like it. She's completely asleep and then suddenly becomes very agitated and starts to scream and cry and then she begins to thrash about and move around the bed or cot. Apparently this doesn't affect their sleep or give them any psychological scars. Kids just grow out of it. Human beings really are very complex.

 Due to my lack of quality sleep, I have become one of the walking dead...a zombie if you like. I have great big bags under my eyes and I can't stop yawning. I have solidified myself as a real parent with all the mummy badges such as snot on my shirt from where Molly has wiped her nose on me or even bits of food that she's thrown at me that have stuck to my clothes. As disgusting as it sounds, I wear these mummy badges with pride. I have a wonderfully charismatic daughter who keeps me constantly amused with her outrageous behaviour. Don't get me wrong, there are moments when I am certain someone has swapped my beautiful little angel with the spawn of Satan....but then I remember that she is the product of me and Jon and her mischievous ways are built into her DNA....and we wouldn't have it any other way.

I took Molly to have a photo with Santa on Monday and as we approached the fat man with the white beard Molly began screaming "Nooooo!" So inevitably I had to sit in the photo and as you can see there is a great divide between us and Santa. It was so hilarious, but I totally understand why young children are scared of Santa. Luckily our Santa was extremely lovely and very sweet. On that note, Merry Christmas and may it be a wonderful one for everyone! x

Another year...

Wowser! It's been some time since my last post. This year appears to have flown by at an alarming pace, and so many things have happened. My daughter turned 1, and she just keeps growing and growing. Molly has attitude in gallons and puppy dog eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts. I will always look at her with awe and wonder as she continues to fill me with the purest love.

I lost a friend this year. Vicky was here one minute and gone the next. I check her Facebook page regularly, sometimes hoping to see a new funny status update, but always finding messages of love and beauty. So many lives touched by one person. I write on her wall now and then. I miss her and her infectious humour. The world won't be the same without her in it.

Last week would've been my aunts 50th birthday. I was at work and held myself together all day, but on my drive home I turned into a blubbering wreck. I laughed and cried and sobbed. Remembering that awful day when I got that phone call. It resounds in my head. I remembered the funny times, like going to see Bridget Jones Diary with my mum and her and the two of them behaving like school girls, giggling the whole way through because Mikki offered my mum a sandwich, which my mother gladly took as she was hungry, only there were two sandwiches squashed together and my mum ate all of them leaving none for Mikki. The two of them were in stitches through the entire film. But throughout all the funny incidents I kept feeling like I was losing her all over again. She should have been here to celebrate her 50th. My heart has been weighed down with such sadness this year.

On a lighter note, this year marks Molly's second Christmas and I find myself getting more excited as it approaches. She is more aware of what is going on around her and I can't wait to see her reaction to Santa when she has her photo taken this year hahaha!

My cousin sat her HSC this year and turned 18. I remember the day she was born, which feels like only yesterday. I wish Mikki was here to see her baby girl become a woman.

My Gran has been in and out of hospital this year, which makes me feel a little unsettled. I know that she is old and that the inevitable will happen one day, but I wish that I could somehow make her live forever. I wish that I could relieve her of all the pain she suffers with her arthritis and osteo. The best  can do is take Molly to see her and my grandfather. Molly always seems to lift their spirits,you can her the smiles in my grandparents voices after a visit with Moz.



I'm so grateful that I have such a wonderful and close family. I'm grateful that Molly is able to spend time with her great grandparents as well as one set of her grand parents. I wish that we could visit my husbands family in Wales. Molly would have the time of her life, but finances are always a bugger, and the cost of flights is ridiculous. So we resort to Skype and Facebook. Nevertheless, I am grateful for all the family we have.

So this year has had its ups and downs. The downs certainly floored me, but the ups grabbed me and hauled me right back up. Christmas here I come!

Some wounds never heal.

As I sit here contemplating life and all the fuzzy stuff in between, one date keeps flying around my head and crashing into my memory like a freight train. October 16th. The day my aunt died.

Mikki in her younger days.

I know I've written about this before, but I can honestly say that as time goes on the grief doesn't get any easier. Every time I look at Molly I wish that she could have met Mikki. Every time I go shopping, I find myself looking for her. Every time I see my cousins....I see her in their faces. The day she died, a piece of my heart broke off and left this world with her.

This year marks the third anniversary of her passing. 3 years, and I still cry when I look at photos of her, or when I recall funny stories. When I hear her name spoken I close my eyes and everything inside me stops for a split second, anticipating the moment that I open my eyes, hoping she will be standing in front of me, but she never is.

I miss Mikki so much.It pains me to know that Molly will not meet her in this lifetime. She was such an inspiration and massive influence on my sister and I. Sometimes I wonder if we will ever go back to being normal again, but then I realise that this is normal for us now and we have to just keep pushing on.

Our favourite photo of Mikki.

As the 16th approaches, the events of that day ring loudly through my brain. They are out of focus but vivid at the same time. It's such a strange sensation. I remember exactly what I was wearing. I remember my sisters voice on the phone and how she tried to hold herself together because she knew I would panic. I remember my mothers face when I got to the hospital. I remember the heartbreak etched into the lines of my grandparents faces as they sat at the hospital praying for their baby to pull through. I remember the pain in my heart as though it were yesterday.

One thing is for certain, it may have been 3 years but There Will always be a small broken empty space inside us that can never be filled, and thus we will never truly heal completely.

Speechless

Last night my phone rang at 10:30pm. The caller display said PRIVATE. I thought it would be my husbands family calling from Wales to say hello. How wrong I was. I answered the phone and there was a delay...I said "hello", and I immediately knew something was not right. On the other end of the line was one of my best and dearest friends, Chris who now lives in London. Her voice was soft and quiet, not her usual happy and soulful self. I asked if everything was OK at which her voice shattered into sobs and all I could make out was the word "Vicky".

I didn't understand at first, and then she went on to tell me of how one of our most wonderful and beautiful friends was no longer with us. At this stage they speculate that it was an aneurysm that claimed her life. Another important woman to me, snatched by that horrible little clot. For the first time in a while I was truly speechless. I feel like I've been winded, like someone has punched me in the stomach. I still can't comprehend it really. I just can't understand why the universe keeps taking people from me. I feel like I am losing someone I love every year, and I feel helpless.

I came to know this beautiful human being through my friend Chris. She had known Vicky for a while as they had met in Canada and had worked and travelled together. When I was living in the UK Chris emailed both Vicky and myself, as Vicky was living there too. Chris stated that we were two of her favourite girls and that we should meet up because we would get along like a house on fire. She was right. We connected immediately, but that wasn't hard. Vicky was one of those people who just got along with everyone. Each person she met loved her. So we became good friends, and every time she visited Sydney she knew she had a place to stay with us. 

Vicky was one of the most vivacious and larger than life women I have ever known. When she laughed she would throw her head back and her mouth would drop open. She was amazing and loved to have fun. She always had a hilarious story to share. Right now I keep remembering when Chris came to visit us in the UK. Vicky was really sick with some nasty chest infection, which she passed on to Chris, who then passed it on to me. Chris and I called Vicky from my place to thank her for sharing her germs with us, and whenever we all laughed we would burst out into fits of coughing and wheezing. We were a sight for sore eyes.

The last time I spoke to Vicky was about blogging. She was starting her own blog and wanted some tips from me on sites and other bits and bobs. The last time I saw her was in February when she was visiting. Chris, Vicky, Me and Molly had a drink and bite to eat at The Courthouse in Newtown. I had just been reading her status updates yesterday, loving her optimism that Australia would win the Rugby World Cup. 

At the moment, I would give anything just to see her laugh again. I wish that I could be with Chris, so I could hug her and cry with her. I am so grateful that Chris introduced us and that I got a chance to share a friendship with Vicky. All I can think of is Vicky's family. My heart goes out to them in this awfully tragic time.

Vicky, my lovely and amazing friend. May you rest in peace wherever that may be, and may your star shine brightly for us all to see. The world will not be the same without you gorgeous. 

Vicky Babbage 

5th April 1979 - 11th September 2011

Aged 32

Love you Vicky. We miss you already.

x

It's been a while...

It has been some time since my last blog. It appears that life has crept up on me and taken over. I have returned to work two days a week which has been an overwhelming field of emotions for me. I am extremely lucky to have family that are not only able, but willing to look after Molly for those two days. My mum and dad have taken on the responsibility and I daresay, they love it. They get some extra one on one time with Mo, and she gets to spend more time with her grandparents which is a huge bonus. I am very family oriented and want my baby girl to have a good and strong bond with the family too.

At the end of my working day I come home and can't wait to wrap my arms around Molly. As soon as she sees me she just wants me and no-one else, which makes me feel so loved and special. My parents then start telling me of all the amazing things they got up to and then proceed to tell me all about what Molly has done in her nappy that day! I see it enough...I don't actually need to know what poos she does when I'm not around, as amusing as poo is haha!

It's a very strange sensation being back at work. Some moments, I feel as though I never left and others I feel like a fish out of water. I have changed roles so I have a fair amount to learn and I'm excited and daunted all at the same time, but I honestly just wish I knew everything I need to know so I can sink my teeth into it and help my team. Alas I am a beginner once again and learning all the ropes.

So I guess I'm kind of enjoying being back at work, but in the back corner of my mind all I can think about is one person. One little person to be precise. Molly. She's always in my thoughts, and it's those thoughts that put a smile on my face.

P-Plater Madness!

Yesterday started off pleasantly for me and Molly. We got up and I fed her and we had a play and a cuddle and I showered her in kisses as I always do. We got a message from my friend Beck asking if we wanted to go to the park for Magic Yellow Bus (this is a facility provided by our local council which is a yellow bus or truck which visits certain parks within the area on different days of the week. They put out mats with loads of toys and cushions and they do painting, face painting and story time...it's brilliant and it's free!). Yesterday was beautiful, blue skies and sunshine, so naturally we went to the park to meet Beck and her daughter (Molly's mate) Georgia.

We had a nice time and Molly was her usual chipper self, and in extremely fine form running around and grabbing different toys. Soon it was time to head off and I thought I would take full advantage of the fine weather and stroll up to Woolworths to grab a few bits and bobs, with the hope that Molly would fall asleep after her vigorous play in the park. We said goodbye to Beck and Georgia and went our separate ways.

I would have usually crossed at the zebra crossing outside the Hellenic Bakery, but instead I thought I would just walk straight up and cross at the lights, stupidly thinking this would also be the safer option. So off we trotted up the hill then we stopped at the lights. I pressed the button and waited. The lights ticked over and we got our little green man signalling it was safe to cross the road. I looked before I stepped out. I wasn't even halfway across the road when I saw a silver Mercedes A-Class with P-plates being driven by a young Asian man come flying around the corner! It was at this point I pulled Molly's stroller back into me and my heart stopped. All I could think of was my baby and her safety. I screamed and some other very choice words also escaped from my mouth. He had come within 30cms of hitting my precious baby and me. By the time he had come to a standstill he was a quarter of the way past us. Other drivers who were sat at the lights screamed at him and honked their horns. I was in shock and quickly walked to other side of the road and kissed Molly and gave her a cuddle, and the P-plater jerk just drove off. One of the other drivers yelled out to make sure we were OK and I assured him we were. Why is it that P-platers these days drive so irresponsibly? Why are they not paying attention? Cars are essentially lethal weapons and young drivers really need to comprehend that notion, because the next idiot who does something like this could kill someone.

I arrived at Woolworths with my nerves completely frazzled and lost myself.I rang my dear sister in a state of shock and tears. She calmed me down, but I felt so sick. I then got angry at myself for not getting his licence plate, but I was so upset at the time I didn't even think.

I did my shopping and got to the register to pay when I went to get my wallet out and found that my beautiful daughter is a kleptomaniac! There sitting in the top part of my bag were the two toys Molly had been playing with at Magic Yellow Bus, a wooden flat head screwdriver and  plastic Tonka drill....It was then that I was able to smile and laugh. Naturally I will return the toys next week, but at that moment I was so grateful that Molly was safe and that she is always able to make me smile, even if she is a thieving monkey ha ha!

One whole year!

Last week marked the first birthday of my daughter Molly. I find myself in a state of disbelief at how quickly that year has gone by. Where on earth did the time go?! She is no longer my teeny tiny baby, but well and truly a toddler, and one with a whole lot of personality.

The bunting my grandmother and I made.

I had such a party planned for wee Molly. I made birthday bunting with my grandmother out of gorgeous materials which can be used every year. I made traditional Yugoslav shortbread and slices with my grandma. My mother and I bought a load of food including party pies and sausage rolls and we even made mini hot dogs. But the pièce de résistance was the birthday cake. I had talked it up so much and the pressure of having to deliver was weighing deeply on me. I made Molly a Little Miss Giggles cake with a velvet cake inside but instead of being red it was rainbow...and it turned out beautifully! I was so proud of myself. So Molly had a brilliant birthday party, however she was intent on not enjoying it.

Little Miss Giggles cake.

A combination of teething, still being unwell, separation anxiety and too many people made my little cherub a very upset 1 year old. She couldn't bear to be apart from me and cried every time I tried to put her down. She fell asleep on her daddy when we were going to do cake, and as my nieces and nephew had another party to attend we had to take photos with the cake whilst she slept peacefully in daddy's arms, completely oblivious (she'll never live this down hahaha).

Rainbow cake!

So the party ended and later some friends dropped by as they were not able to make it earlier. Molly had changed back to her normal bubbly and happy self and was having loads of fun playing and giving away loads of smiles. I couldn't believe it! Where was this happy child just a couple of hours beforehand? She certainly keeps me on my feet.

The birthday girl.

After being completely spoiled and having some really awful tantrums, my little girl had her first birthday party. I organized a time capsule and asked all our guests to write Molly a letter. This will be opened on her 18th birthday, so we are in for a very interesting birthday party in 2028, but that's a world away for now.

How do you say thank you?

I'm very privileged to come from the family that I do. My parents are not wealthy, they're just hard working and the most loving bunch and have always provided well for us. Even now, into my thirties my mother and father continue to help me in many ways. After a lifetime of love and nurturing how do you say thank you to the people you love? For 31 years David and Lily have loved, cared for and been mortified by me. I have certainly been a roller coaster of emotions over the years, but disagreements and horrid behaviour aside my mum and dad have never kicked me out. They have always stood by me and helped when they could

My mother has always encouraged my creativity and her faith in my writing skills has made her proclaim that I should be a columnist, however I've advised her that in order to be a columnist I would need some sort of degree, which sadly I lack. My only credentials are life experience and a love and passion for the English language, but my mummy is still encouraging and I love her dearly for it. So I thought the best way to thank my parents was to do it in the medium my mother loves and I know best....here.

An open letter to my parents:

Dear Mummy and Daddy,

I know I've not been the easiest child and I've certainly made my fair share of mistakes and bad choices, but you have always been there for me. Through the good, the bad, and the downright obnoxious. I've sworn at you, lashed out, behaved like a brat and I've been horrid. But for all those awful moments there have been a million wonderful ones.

When I was a young child, one of the things I looked forward to the most was spending a day with my daddy during school holidays. That one day you would take off work and take me to the cinema. Willow is still one of my all time favourite films, and I saw it first with you daddy. I love the way you are passionate about rugby, or any sport for that matter (this involves lots of screaming and some very choice words). I love the way you cared for and loved your parents so tenderly and gracefully. I remember when I saw you cry for the first time in my life, it was after granddad had the stroke and we were at the hospital visiting him. He'd told Alisse and I that night, that no matter what happened he'd always be with us. When we came into the hallway you cried. It was then that I realized that granddad was not going to get better, and that my father would soon lose his father. You put up a tough exterior daddy, but I know you're a big soft marshmallow inside, who loves his girls, and adores his grandchildren. I'm sorry that Alisse and I never inherited your love of golf, but we did inherit the short fuse you have haha! I am also very proud that I inherited your love of science fiction, an eye for argyle sweaters, and most of all the sweet tooth that we share.

Mummy, although it doesn't always seem like it, I love spending time with you. I remember very clearly you dropping me off at school, and me suffering from severe separation anxiety and chasing you across the playground hahaha! Like a lost puppy I would even follow you to the bathroom. You drive me crazy but you always have my best interests at heart. I love your clumsiness, I always have great stories to tell because of it. I love that you have instilled in me a love of literature, art and foreign film. I admire your relationship with your parents and how you always make time for them and that you speak to your mum every day, as I do with you. I can't even  begin to tell you how much I enjoy and adore your sense of humour. I have some brilliant laughs with you. I've also shared moments of loss and pain with you. Tears that I thought would never end, and heartache that shattered us all. Your my shoulder to cry on and my pearl of wisdom. Your my mummy and a wonderful one at that.

I don't say it enough to you, but I love you both and I am so grateful that I have you in my life. I am grateful for all the love, help and assistance that you have given me throughout my life and continue to do so. I'm afraid that all I have is words to offer you in return. So, thank you for being my mummy and daddy and for giving me a wonderful big sister and a loving and interesting life. Thank you for being you. I love you x

Coming up to three years...

This October marks three years since my aunt passed away. One minute she was here, and the next she was gone. I have never been very good at grieving; I bottle it up inside me and don't want to broach the subject. I guess you could say I avoid. When I got that phone call from my sister, my heart sank into the deepest darkest pit of my stomach. Mikki had collapsed at work, and she never woke up. A congenital blood vessel that had burst at the base of her brain was the culprit. Seeing her in the hospital like that was crushing. One of the most vivacious and vibrant women I have ever known was reduced to having a machine breathe for her.

When Mikki left this world, my sister and I lost an aunt, a sister and a friend. My mum lost her baby sister and her best and closest friend. My cousins lost their mother and my grandparents lost their baby. There is a huge void in our family that cannot be filled. 

At the time, I cried every day and night until I had no more tears. So much of my childhood was spent with Mikki. As a small child I would get into her make-up drawer and devour her lipsticks. There is a photo of me at the age of about two, sat on my grandparents lounge with my blonde hair, a phone (so very typically me) and a face full of red lipstick, Mikki's lipstick. Now I can't remember the last time I saw her alive and it tears me apart. I wish that we had more time.

It never gets easier, but we learn to just cope I guess. When Molly came along, I was so sad that she would never meet Mikki, so we gave her name to Molly (it's one of her middle names). But I still find myself longing for Mikki's presence; Molly would have adored her and my heart hurts to know that I can't share my brilliant aunt with my daughter. 

On the second anniversary of her death I went to visit her grave. It was the first time that I took Molly to see her. As soon as I sat down on the grass with Molly the tears welled up in my eyes and the pain come flooding back. I wanted her to be here when I had a baby. I wanted to hear her laugh at my expense for my horribly long labour. I wanted her to share motherly advice and I wanted her to hold Molly the way that I held her babies. 

I miss my aunt and I still cry. As Molly's first birthday approaches, I become more and more aware of Mikki's absence. I wish that she could be here. I'm not a religious person. I'm not sure what comes after this life, all I know is I will see her on the other side, whether it be another universe or heaven or on a star. Right now, I miss her with all my heart. The life is short cliché is not so much a cliché to me or my family anymore. Life really can change in a matter of seconds, so don't take the time you have with your loved ones for granted, you really don't know what's around the corner. 

Tell your loved ones that you love them every day.

I popped my Mothers Day cherry!

Today marked my very first mothers day. I woke up to the deep gurgling and snorting of my husbands snores. I got out of bed and readied myself for breakfast at my parents place, and once I had my face on I walked into our bedroom and wished myself a happy mothers day. My husband Jon, quickly woke up and showered me with lots of compliments and I love yous. I was then presented with a lovely cup of tea and a present picked out by Molly and Jon. I got exactly what I wanted, some new pyjamas! And I love them. They have sheep all over them, apparently Molly is extremely aware that she is part Welsh haha.

We headed over to my parents place where my sister and her family joined us as well as my grandparents. We cooked up a big brekky of scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns (that I made from scratch), sausages, toast, croissants, pikelets and fresh fruit. It was huge and delicious. I had such a lovely morning and my afternoon was equally as lovely as my husband and I went for a walk with Molly. I was a mothers day virgin and now my cherry has been popped. My day was fabulously relaxed and full of love and smiles.

I may have had a lovely day, but I couldn't help but think about the mothers we have lost and the mothers who have lost children. In the past three years I have lost women who I have loved who were mothers. Today their children feel the void. Mothers close to me have lost children, my grandmother being one of these when my aunt passed and a very dear friend who sadly lost her baby. All of these women have had an impact on my life and today I remember each of them. Today I say a prayer to the universe for each of these women and send them all my love.

Last but certainly not least, today I thank my mummy Lily, for being the greatest. She has a wonderfully wicked sense of humour and a quick wit to match. She has kissed away tears and hugged away fears and always loved us unconditionally. Even now at the age of 31, my mummy will make me chicken dumpling soup when I am sick. She drives me crazy at the best of times, but the only reason for that is that we are just so similar. She is the best mother and I wouldn't change her for anything! I only hope that I am as good a mum as Lily. I love her and today I appreciate my mummy.

Happy mothers day!

Give me a Cartier tiara any day!

This week marked the Royal wedding of Prince William to his commoner (pleb) wife Kate Middleton. Yes, I was swept up in the fairytale that the Royal family are, that and a hell of a lot of inbreeding. I am by no means a Royalist, but I am truly fascinated by them. All the pomp and ceremony transports one into an almost medieval time in a romantic way, without the stench and muck of medieval London.

Kate Middleton is truly a lovely looking young woman, in fact her entire family appear to be rather handsome. Although now she is able to breathe a sigh of relief and she and her sister can sit down and eat a few triple cheeseburgers, pizza and cake. My gosh are those girls thin! Beautiful, yes, but so painfully slim. I guess some weight loss would be expected, can you imagine having to go through a wedding like that? All the public scrutiny and so many eyes on you. It would be nerve racking to say the least and although a lot of us as women would love to be a princess, we wouldn't want to live our lives so publicly. I must say though, all this aside Mrs Wales looked amazing. She had all the old world glamour of Grace Kelly in her Grace inspired dress and all the poise of true princess, yet she was still just a normal young woman marrying the man she loves and was just as nervous as many of us were on our respective wedding days.

Of course, there was a lot of speculation on the dress and whether she would wear a tiara. I am glad to say that I called the dress. My mother and aunt were insisting she would wear a slinky number, and I said "Uh-ah, no way. She's going to have a full skirt", and I was right. The tiara she wore was I believe the Queen Mother's and it was made by Cartier in 1936 or roundabouts. That tiara was magnificent! What every girl dreams of. It was elegantly understated yet beautifully diamond encrusted. In short, I want one, but alas I don't think I will ever be able to afford such gems.

I was a little disappointed in Harry's gal, Chelsy Davy. My gosh she looked like she'd just gotten out of bed! Harry my dear, you need to have a quiet word with your Mrs. If not I'm afraid your dear old gran might have a few words with her ha ha!

William and Harry looked every inch the dapper young men that princes should be. I love a man in uniform and I have to say, sorry to old Wills but Harry looked particularly lovely (I do have a soft spot for Harry). There has been a lot of talk about Princess Diana and how she would have been so proud. I never knew the woman but as a mother myself, I am certain she really would have been proud of her boys. Had she been alive, I reckon she would have shed a tear.


When Diana died, I watched her funeral live on TV at my parents place. There were a load of us there. We were getting ready to go out, nevertheless, we watched in silence and witnessed the British public brought to their knees for a woman who had touched so many hearts. We watched as two young boys who had lost their mother walked behind her coffin and held themselves together with dignity. Yesterday, I watched those same two boys, and I could see their mother in both of them. I witnessed the British people become excited for their Royal family once again. This is a new era in Royalty and William and Harry will shake things up.
Diana may have been the peoples princess, but her son has married a princess of the people, and let's be honest, the Royal bloodline needs as much fresh blood in it as possible, we don't want to have any more mistakes like Phillip or Charles (the inbreeding is particularly evident in those two hahaha). Saying that though, I must admit, my favourite Royal is Phillip. There is nothing quite like a decrepit old Prince who has a knack for making the most politically incorrect comments. He does make me laugh.

So that's my rant on the Royal wedding. I enjoyed every bit of all the pomp and ceremony. I loved the dress and the uniforms and the pageantry of the entire event. It was a little glimpse into how the other half  live and it was astounding. Wedding fever gripped many of us, but I am glad it's over, as I'm sure William and Kate are.

They did what?!...

This week the parents (mother and stepfather) of Kiesha Abrahams were taken into custody and charged with murder. Yes that's right, murder. Right from the beginning of this case I had suspected foul play. In fact, I think most of Australia thought that something wasn't quite right.

At the heart of this awful case is a young girl who would have been 7 this week. Her life was tragically stolen from her before it even really began. As a new parent, I find myself so saddened by this story and how a mother could take her baby's life. What on earth must have happened to this woman to make her such an evil monster? How could you ever harm a child? How could you harm your own child?!

As I watch my sweet little Molly sleep, a chill travels up my spine at the thought of poor little Kiesha being murdered at the hands of her own mother. It takes a real coward to hurt a child, and the fact that one of those cowards was Kiesha's own mother makes me sick to the deepest darkest pit of my stomach. I cherish my little girl with every fibre of my being and she fills my heart with such love and joy I cannot even begin to put it into words. In my naivety, I simply thought that all mothers felt the same as me, oh how I have been brought rocketing down to earth! I am so saddened by the world sometimes, and the hate that filters through it and permeates into people making them such horrid and evil creatures.

If you take a look at interviews with Kiesha's parents and compare them with interviews of Madeleine McCann's parents you can see some very drastic differences. One in particular is that the McCann's have not at any point given up hope on Maddie. They have persevered through all the scrutiny and continued to fight to find their missing little girl, investing everything they have in the efforts to find her. I cannot imagine the pain and worry that must plague them. The Abrahams however, started referring to Kiesha in past tense fairly early on which was an alarm in itself. They immediately thought the absolute worse case scenario had taken place. No loving parent would give up hope so easily, unless they already knew what had happened. I wonder what drove them to do such a terrible thing. Was it merely an accident and they panicked and tried to cover it up? Or was it premeditated, cold blooded murder? How must Kiesha's biological father feel? My heart goes out to him in these shockingly sad times.

I know the police and the legal system in general have a hard task ahead of them and I hope that fire and brimstone have some part in the proceedings.

Sleep? What's sleep?

So we have reached that inevitable stage where getting Miss Molly to bed has become a ridiculously awful affair. Some nights things work perfectly well, like tonight, she went to bed like a sweet little angel. She actually fell asleep on the lounge room floor and I transferred her into her cot without any waking. Other nights it's like someone has come into our home and swapped my little angel for a revolting, beastly demon child. She screams and cries and then she grunts. She becomes a horrid little monster, but alas she is my little monster.

There have been nights where Molly has ended up in our bed, for no other reasons other than she was hysterical and I couldn't soothe her and it was some ungodly hour of the morning and I was running on tiny amounts of sleep. So she comes into our bed so we can get some quiet, but I only half sleep because I'm so conscious of her being there that I don't want to roll over on to her, so the only winner is Mo.

I have literally tried everything. The only routine she has is her bedtime routine. I will admit that some days she has had a sleep later in the afternoon and I was too soft to wake her. After speaking to my sister, she told me that on occasion she will give the girls a pinch if they fall asleep in the afternoon hahaha! Speaking of my nieces, there is something so wonderfully sweet about hearing my 5 year old nieces sing "TNT, Oi Oi Oi" hahaha They crack me.

Back on track, Molly is still asleep as I write this (I'm praying she stays asleep until at least 6am). My sister once gave me some very sound advice, "Do what you feel is right, and do what you need to do to get through the days". So whilst battling Molly at bedtime this advice echoes through my head, and I know that I am doing the best that I can, and I walk away leaving Molly screaming. I come into the lounge room feeling awful but knowing that I am ultimately doing the right thing, when my hubby pipes up "Awww, I'm going to get her" he's an even bigger softy than me! Neither of us can bear to hear her cry. It's just one big vicious circle ha ha!

Last night I put on one of my Shakespeare for Children CDs for Molly. I had totally forgotten about those little gems my mum had gotten Molly. So she listened to Othello and A Midsummer Nights Dream, and I think they honestly helped her get to sleep, well at least I like to think they did. I love to think that she loves Shakespeare too.

So far so good tonight, so I will leave you with this thought. I now understand why sleep deprivation is used as torture.

Who am I again?

When you become a parent everything you do for yourself goes out the window, and you only ever think of one little person. Life changes completely and revolves solely around your new bundle. This has become so apparent that I completely and utterly forgot my own birthday this year.

It never even entered my mind that I would have a birthday to celebrate this year. In fact, I thought I had a month until my birthday when I suddenly realized that I only had a week.

So on the eve of my 31st birthday, I don't feel like celebrating. All I can think about is whether I've got all the washing on, when it needs to be hung out, what will I give Molly for lunch, should I wash the car, what time should we visit my grandparents....and the list is endless.

Somewhere along the line I thought I had lost myself in the ever long road of motherhood, but I have since discovered that I am still here, I'm just wearing a different hat, the hat of a mum. All my priorities have changed but I am still me. I no longer feel the need to celebrate my birthday, but my gosh will I get excited over Molly's birthdays. I can't wait to start making her cool birthday cakes and seeing her little face light up at all the wonders of her birthday. I can't wait to to tell her about the day she was born, and subsequently the horrendous pain she caused me when I was in labor.

Oh the joys of being a parent. I can't wait to horrify her with the stories of her arrival in this world. She will know what posterior means from an early age, and she will understand what I mean when I say "stitches", and she will also know that when I tell her that I love her, that it is unconditional and forever. Come what may, Molly will always be able to rely on me, and I will protect her for as long as I live.

It's funny how you come to understand so many things when you become a parent. I now truly understand how my mother must have felt when she had my sister and then me. How she must have worried about us and the world she had bought us in to. But most importantly, how she loved us from the very first moment she saw us and has always been there for us, as mad as she is and with a sick sense of humour to match, we wouldn't change her for anything. 

My birthday may come and go, but the only birthday that means anything to me now is Molly's. It was the day our lives got turned upside down and a little person was handed to me and her tiny hands reached out and grabbed my heart right out of my chest.

So tomorrow on my birthday I give thanks to my mum for giving me life and giving me her heart. She may drive me crazy at the best of times, but her love is unconditional and I am so lucky to have her.
 
Who am I again? I'm a mother who is very grateful for all the mothers she has in her life.

The butchery of good TV

I love the British sense of humour, and as a result I love British television. Some of my favourite shows are Red Dwarf, Absolutely Fabulous, The Office, Being Human and Shameless. Now, us Aussies know all about how badly these TV versions can go after seeing the US rendition of Kath and Kim, which was APPALLING! In 1992 the US felt the need to do their own version of Red Dwarf. The only original cast member was Robert Llewellyn as Kryten. Even through all his layers of make up you can see him thinking 'what the hell am I doing here?'. It was a complete violation of all that we love about Red Dwarf. Craig Bierko played Lister!!! Since when was Dave Lister tall dark and handsome?

Moving on from the Red Dwarf tragedy we have Absolutely Fabulous, and really I don't think I need to say anything on this. Some things should never be touched, and Ab Fab is one of those things.

The Office....now this one is a contentious one. I like Steve Carrell, and maybe if they had given this show another title I may have given it a good go, but they didn't. I am a devout Office fan. There is only one David Brent and there is only one Office for me. It's just not the same. What about our dearly hideous Gareth and his annoying behaviour? There is only one Gareth and that is Mackenzie Crook. The cast of the English show are genius! Each person bought something special to the show and made it a cult classic.

The most recent to tragically be butchered are Being Human and Shameless. Being Human really took my breath away. It was funny and yet dramatic with the whole supernatural theme of three housemates, one a vampire, one a werewolf and one a ghost. The casting of this show is amazing. It runs in the classic style of Doctor Who with low budget special effects that make it such a cult show and give it that cool edge. The US version is full of high tech special effects and it appears that the characters have all been renamed. It has lost it's sparkle.

Now possibly one of the worst offenders here is Shameless. Those of you who know this show know just how brilliant it is. Set on a housing estate in Manchester there are two distinct families, the Gallagher's and the Maguire's. Frank Gallagher is the town drunk who spurts off nonsense while wobbling through the streets to and from the pub.He has about 8 kids and his wife ran off with a woman. The Maguire's are the town drug dealers, who doesn't love the volatile relationship between Mimi and Paddy?! And then of course one of their boys Shane has a prostitute for a girlfriend. It is a hysterical watch. Sometimes it takes a turn for the serious with story lines about heroin addiction or family members being murdered, but it always does a full circle and comes back the quirky and funny. The cast is brilliantly chosen and all are wonderful in their own rights. Now the US version of Shameless appears to be nothing more than a white trash family in the ghetto drama. There was nothing funny about it. Yes they have some stellar cast members, the likes of William H Macy as Frank Gallagher and Emmy Rossum as his daughter Fiona Gallagher, but that is about it. It was a shoddy attempt at doing a British TV show. It never...EVER translates properly.

So, why is it that the US feel the need to redo British and Australian TV shows? Why can't they just watch the original shows? It's not like we speak foreign languages. I just don't understand it....and to be honest, it kind of makes my blood boil to see so many of my favourite shows get butchered by American producers. It truly saddens me to think that our US counterparts cannot "get" the Australian and British sense of humour, so much so that they must remake and interpret the scripts. What has happened to the world?! Is nothing sacred anymore?

I'm melting!

Today is the all important Australia Day, so bring on the BBQ, lamingtons, VB, thongs, stubbies and the classic bonds singlet....and lets not forget that Aussie heat! Sweet Jesus, this land is hot. I can't believe that I was 4 months pregnant this time last year, and for the record, it was stinking hot then too. I feel a bit like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz when the bucket of water is thrown on her..."I'm melting, I'm melting!"

As an Australian without air con, I give a solemn middle finger salute to those of you who have the luxury of having air conditioning. Although I will say this, we are lucky to live in an old deco apartment, yes it can get hot in here, but not quite as bad as other places. Nevertheless, I am still extremely envious of those with air con.

This morning I had a shower, got out of said shower and dried myself, and within 2 minutes I was drenched again....this time in sweat. Yes, it's that hot. I never used to like the heat, and to be fair I'm still not the greatest fan, but I find that since I have become a mother I have really embraced the summer. This is mainly due to being able to get out and about with Molly.

We started Molly's swimming classes last week and she loved it! I have a water baby, which serves me right I guess. I always liked the pool, but I never liked the beach, and now I find myself drawn to the beach in order to give Molly that all Australian childhood, and I don't want her to miss out on anything. My reason for disliking the beach was my severe skin reaction to sea lice that would always attack me in the water and I would come out with huge welts all over me, hence I was embarrassed and tried to stay away.

I think that it's important for all children to be water aware, especially in a country like Australia. I also believe in good sun protection, so unfortunately Molly won't be going to the beach until I get my hands on one of those sun shelters. She has that peaches and cream welsh complexion and I'll be damned if she is going to end up with any sun damage to it.

Ah the joys of living in Oz. I may complain about the heat and a few other things, but I love my homeland and I'm glad that my daughter gets to grow up here and experience all the magic that Oz has to offer.

Never tear us apart...

Times have been tough for many of us in recent days. So much so, that I have been considering when I will go back to work part time and putting my dear little Molly into day care. I never thought that this would be an issue for me, however I have since come to realize that I cannot bear to be apart from my baby girl for more than an hour or two!

This may be the biggest cliche in the history of cliches but it is very true, you never actually know how much you can love a person until you have a child. It is the most overwhelmingly intense and joyous feeling in the world. You feel so many different feelings in one moment it takes your breath away. Molly has definitely turned our world upside down but in the best possible way. She makes everything better.

So why on earth would I want to put my munchkin into day care and essentially go to work to pay for said day care? The cost of child care in Australia is ridiculous. Yes, you do get about 50% of it back, but you have to have the money up front to pay for it. So I would only be working to pay for Molly's day care. I love spending time with Molly, and to be honest I'm not sure I am ready to give any of that up.

I actually feel nauseous at the thought of having to leave my little girl with anyone other than family, and even then it's hard for my hubby and I to relax. We just love hanging with Mo, and she loves hanging with us. I just want to cherish all these moments while we have them. She is growing so quickly and I want to spend as much time as I can with her.

So my question is this, will it ever feel right to put my baby into child care? Or will I always naturally feel like this because I am a mum?

For now, I say that Molly and I will not be torn apart prematurely. We are having way too much fun right now and we are going to enjoy every moment.

Grumpy old man...

Today Molly and I headed to the park for a catch up with some friends from mothers group. It was a beautiful day, although it was a little windy at times, it really was a lovely day. We all chatted about our first Christmas' and New Years with our babies and all the presents our little angels got.

After a while we decided to head back to one of our places for a much needed cuppa. As we were leaving the park chatting amongst ourselves about nothing in particular, an older man was approaching the park. He took one look at us and started shouting god knows what at us. I didn't understand what he was saying until one of my friends shouted back "I work thank you very much!!!". The old git was throwing obscenities at us about being on benefits and that he should cut us all off (like we were in his will or something!). I was slightly taken aback by his outburst, and after walking on I became completely infuriated.

How dare that man judge us! Just because we are mums, doesn't mean we are dole bludgers, which coming from him was laughable considering he was drunk in the middle of the day, presenting a very stereotypical image of what people deem as a dole bludger. I am horrified by his comments. I have worked hard for most of my life and I have paid all my taxes. As one of my friends pointed out, we don't have to justify ourselves to some half wit on the street, but I resent his instant presumption that we were all on benefits. In actual fact, one of us works 4 days a week and the rest of us are looking at going back to work very soon. The biggest downfall for us is childcare. We would be working just to pay for childcare, not that the moron who tried to slander us would have a clue.

I am so bitter about this verbal attack. If I could see that vulgar mouthed moron again, I would have a few choice words for him and perhaps even a shoe might be thrown. Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Anyway, now that I have had my rant I guess I feel a little better, but seriously, what is the world coming to? I feel like all the goodness in the world has evaporated sometimes. When I was a kid, people were not that nasty or jaded. Things seemed so much simpler back then. We would walk to the local corner shop or ride our bikes there and get a bag of lollies for 50cents. There wouldn't be any crazy old buggers about scaring people. These days you can't let a child out of your sight for fear of someone trying to walk off with them or some lunatic speeding around the streets running them over. Lollies are now a weeks wages and ice creams are worth a mortgage. Sheesh! Things have changed and my only hope is that no what is going on around us, that Molly grows up feeling happy and loved and doesn't have to deal with weirdos like the one we ran into today.

That time of the month...

I was just trying to talk to my hubby about my period and that I was in sync with my girlfriends, when he got all flustered and asked me how I new we were all in sync, and if that's what women talk about. I answered, yes, it is one of the many things women share with one another. He was horrified. Why is this natural occurring cycle so taboo? It's just a down right awful time for a woman and what? We can't talk about it because it makes men squeamish? Me thinks not my dear friends. Our mothers burned their bras and protested for our rights as women and one of those rights is to speak freely about our periods!

Since having Molly I have been graced with my period twice now. The first one was erratic, short and light. This second one has been abysmal. I feel like my insides are falling out and that I have been battered all over my body with a tyre iron. To my misery, my friend advised me that for the first 6 months after having a baby ones period can be terribly volatile. After getting used to not having a crimson wave to ride each month for over a year, I am now on a massive Debbie Downer. I guess it's that old adage, "all good things must come to an end."  I am hating that stupid expression right now. Why can't good thing go on forever?

So in amongst the joys of having my monthly visit from the hemoglobin fairy, and last weeks poo incident, I was carrying my gorgeous little girl into our apartment from the back garden on New Years Eve thinking to myself 'hmmmm I think I need to change your nappy, it seems a bit full', when I felt a trickle on my leg and foot. I looked up, thinking my neighbour had just watered his plants again, only to find that all was dry above me. I looked around and then the answer hit me like a ton of bricks. Molly had leaked on me once again, but hey, at least this time it was just wee. I don't think I could cope with another poo attack so close to the last one ha ha! It's in these moments that only a mother can look at their child and see love. She may wee and poo on me at times, but she has such a power over me that I just don't care, because she's my little monkey.

I am now sat here thinking about when my little monkey will receive her first period, and oh my god, I hope she does not have a reaction like me. I completely lost my mind and my poor sister was the one who was at home with me and had to explain it all to me. Then she gave me a pad, and back then they were like fricken mattresses! She ended up having to call my mum at work because I was so hysterical and she didn't know what to do. I wish I could withhold all these kind of nasties from Molly, but it's an important passage in a woman's life. And it's essentially the cycle of life. So even though I hate having my period, it's all intertwined with our ability as women to carry a child, and having that life grow inside of you, as alien as it may be, it's the one true miracle in this world and we get to be part of it. Either way, I want her to know that she can talk to me about anything including her period, and not feel embarrassed or ashamed.