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