If I ever go back to paid work, I will look for something where I am working the night/early morning shift. Why you may ask? Well, in my hazy state of semi-consciousness in the wee hours of this morning, a glimmer of lucidity hit me. It's not all that bad being up at 3am and driving on the roads. There is no pollution, no getting the finger and no traffic. However, one must remember that this thought came to me after trying unsuccessfully for hours to put my toddler to sleep, myself completely sleep deprived and , oh yeah, being very heavily pregnant. So, I really wouldn't put much weight to this thought.
There was one sobering thought however. My husband hasn't decided to divorce me. Either he loves me quite a lot, or he has escaped to Bermuda and will not be returning tonight.I say this because if anyone had seen the state I looked in at 3am, 4am, 5am, 6am, and 10am this morning, they would have got a very big fright - and I'm not exaggerating. Picture a beached whale with Fraggle hair, unable to open sleep-encrusted eyes singing ``Five little ducks went out one day'' very off key wearing the most attractive maternity underwear (aka my husbands jocks which he put on me because I have lost the ability to dress myself. Anyway, my munchkin fell asleep last night about 10pm okay I thought to myself as I hankered down to read the latest Reader's Digest. 11.30pm and WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. To make a long story short, by 3.11am I thought I'd better try the night-time drive before I pull all my hair out. I was Cra-ghing (cry-laughing) as I watched my hypo-baby stand in the middle of my bed, swivel her hips (yes, she swivels!) curls bouncing everywhere yelling "Dance, dance dance" over, and over and over again.
It was sort of funny, but not really.
Anyhow, she is totally enthralled with Playschool at the moment - my 28 minutes of respite. Soon, however, I'm going to have to take her out before she demands I turn the stereo on and dance around.
I hope you all enjoy sleeping tonight. Now I totally understand how Chinese sleep-deprivation torture actually leads to insanity. I'm developing a weird tick.
yawn.
Friday, 20 May 2005
Wednesday, 18 May 2005
25 Days left and counting
Now, I know it has been like MONTHS since my last post, but really I can sum it all up in one word.
TIRED!!!
The only reason I am actually blogging right now is because my beautiful, thoughtful husband got me a lap top with wireless connection for Mother's Day. I used to poo-poo this fake holiday (it falls into the same category as Halloween and St Valentine's Day), I now think its a great day and am already looking forward to next year for an even more extravagant present.
Quick update on the light-of-my-life AKA my daughter. She's is running around and has a vocabulary of nearly 30 words. Very clever indeed. The running around is a bit scary sometimes, though, as I discovered last Friday night when, for no apparent reason she decided to run hell for leather straight into a concrete wall. I was watching her do it but was helpless to stop it. It was freaky how - as soon as she bounced off the wall, a little bright blue dot appeared on her forehead that, before my very eyes, grew to the size of an egg. I was home alone and freaked and tried to hold an ice pack on my hysterical baby's head - without much luck. Anyway, today the bump nearly non-existent and the bruise has turned a highlighter green. Lovely.
Now, to my impending delivery due date. While it is rapidly approaching, I CAN'T WAIT. These are the main reasons why.
1) I fucken hate maternity clothes. They are ugly, expensive and all in boring colours.
2) I can't wait to take a deep, long breath.
3) I'm sick of going to the toilet every 30 minutes.
4) My back hurts.
5) All my ligaments hurt.
6) I'm sick of people guessing what sex the baby will be based on how big my ass is.
But, the best reason is I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS BABY. I'm really excited and feel so blessed. Ohhhhhh.
Time to get some sleep. (sleep? What's that again???) My little toddler is in the land of nod, and I just know that as soon as I doze, she will be calling out MAMA DADDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Ahh, the joys!
TIRED!!!
The only reason I am actually blogging right now is because my beautiful, thoughtful husband got me a lap top with wireless connection for Mother's Day. I used to poo-poo this fake holiday (it falls into the same category as Halloween and St Valentine's Day), I now think its a great day and am already looking forward to next year for an even more extravagant present.
Quick update on the light-of-my-life AKA my daughter. She's is running around and has a vocabulary of nearly 30 words. Very clever indeed. The running around is a bit scary sometimes, though, as I discovered last Friday night when, for no apparent reason she decided to run hell for leather straight into a concrete wall. I was watching her do it but was helpless to stop it. It was freaky how - as soon as she bounced off the wall, a little bright blue dot appeared on her forehead that, before my very eyes, grew to the size of an egg. I was home alone and freaked and tried to hold an ice pack on my hysterical baby's head - without much luck. Anyway, today the bump nearly non-existent and the bruise has turned a highlighter green. Lovely.
Now, to my impending delivery due date. While it is rapidly approaching, I CAN'T WAIT. These are the main reasons why.
1) I fucken hate maternity clothes. They are ugly, expensive and all in boring colours.
2) I can't wait to take a deep, long breath.
3) I'm sick of going to the toilet every 30 minutes.
4) My back hurts.
5) All my ligaments hurt.
6) I'm sick of people guessing what sex the baby will be based on how big my ass is.
But, the best reason is I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS BABY. I'm really excited and feel so blessed. Ohhhhhh.
Time to get some sleep. (sleep? What's that again???) My little toddler is in the land of nod, and I just know that as soon as I doze, she will be calling out MAMA DADDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Ahh, the joys!
Wednesday, 2 March 2005
Happy Birthday my baby!
WOW! Where has the year gone? My little munchkin is one today and I just can't belive it! I know every parent must say this, but it has gone past way too quickly.
A year ago today I was in a very short, (thank God) labour. Excruciating pain followed by the most surreal, indescribable rush of emotions. The first time I gazed onto her tiny face, I fell instantly in love. I'm so grateful for her and thank God every day for we are truly blessed to have her. Owwwww!!!!
Now don't get me wrong, ther ehave been some very hairy moments. Let me recall just few. Runny poos, not wanting to sleep, chasing her around the house in an atempt to feeed her and, the beauty, having her vomit in my mouth.
But, the fanatstic times outweigh all of these times a million to one. Her first feed, smile and the first time she said MAMA. Crawling, standing and being enthralled by the sound of the washing machine.
The scariest thing, however, is that within a blink of an eye, my baby will have a brother or sister. Three months and counting! This is the main reason I haven;t blogged in so long. I'm exhausted and getting bigger every minute. I can't wait! I just hope everything goes well and this little baby is healthy.
Well, I must run. I have a cake to buy. I'm hoping to blog again soon. Sorry readers.
A year ago today I was in a very short, (thank God) labour. Excruciating pain followed by the most surreal, indescribable rush of emotions. The first time I gazed onto her tiny face, I fell instantly in love. I'm so grateful for her and thank God every day for we are truly blessed to have her. Owwwww!!!!
Now don't get me wrong, ther ehave been some very hairy moments. Let me recall just few. Runny poos, not wanting to sleep, chasing her around the house in an atempt to feeed her and, the beauty, having her vomit in my mouth.
But, the fanatstic times outweigh all of these times a million to one. Her first feed, smile and the first time she said MAMA. Crawling, standing and being enthralled by the sound of the washing machine.
The scariest thing, however, is that within a blink of an eye, my baby will have a brother or sister. Three months and counting! This is the main reason I haven;t blogged in so long. I'm exhausted and getting bigger every minute. I can't wait! I just hope everything goes well and this little baby is healthy.
Well, I must run. I have a cake to buy. I'm hoping to blog again soon. Sorry readers.
Wednesday, 19 January 2005
I know I've been a slack-arse
Sorry Marija, Mona and Matt and my big sis in New York, (I think that covers my readership?) I know you guys hang on my every typed-word and get withdrawal symptoms due to my non-blogging - but it has been ultra hectic for me.
I will try to explain why.
SHE'S NEARLY WALKING!!!
Everyone predicted my little angel would walk early. Since mastering her greased-lightning commando crawl,(she's too clever to hurt her knees on our floorboards), she's discovered that she can pull herself up and grab the remote, my food or anything else her curious hands can get a hold of. Her favourite thing to grab is the computer keyboard hence I haven't blogged in a while.
On another topic, I went for my 19 week ultra-sound yetserday and it was absolutely amazing! The little bubby was waving and kicking, but kept turning its bum toward us. Without sounding too mushy, it really is a miracle the way life develops. I feel priveleged that I'm a woman and can experience this. I will post a pic of the baby as soon as I can.
Now, my opinion on a few recent world events. Hey, I have to put my two-bob"s worth in.
The Asian Tsunamis.
Watching the destruction, heartbreak and utter loss the day after Christmas was one of the hardest things to see during what is supposed to be a festive time of the year. I know I was not alone in shedding pools of tears for the people who lost their lives, homes - everything. Without being too long winded, I felt proud to be an Aussie, to be counted as a person amongst millions who have such compassionate hearts. On the other hand, it made me ashamed as well. The whole nation was quick to react, to help. But I kept thinking about the poor orphaned, mutilated and starving children in Iraq who have had their worlds ripped apart - not by an act of God, but through and act of Evil. Why doesn't the world help them? Why aren't concerts organised, aid agencies plugging on TV every 5 minutes? Or the people in Sudan, the millions slaughtered in Rwanda not so long ago and the Palestinian refugees, stranded in camps, a no-man's-land for generations. Life is just not fair.
The Election of Abbas.
Thank God!!!
Can peace finally be achieved?
The South Australian and Perth Bush Fires.
The pyromaniacs that deliberately start these fires need to be strung up by their genitals over a steaming cauldron of sulphuric acid. Is it a sickness or pure evil? I pray all those people who have lost their homes will get the help they deserve.
Well, that's all I have to say for now. Actually, I can't stand smelling my little bubby's dirty nappy anymore. I'm about to throw up.
See ya'll.
I will try to explain why.
SHE'S NEARLY WALKING!!!
Everyone predicted my little angel would walk early. Since mastering her greased-lightning commando crawl,(she's too clever to hurt her knees on our floorboards), she's discovered that she can pull herself up and grab the remote, my food or anything else her curious hands can get a hold of. Her favourite thing to grab is the computer keyboard hence I haven't blogged in a while.
On another topic, I went for my 19 week ultra-sound yetserday and it was absolutely amazing! The little bubby was waving and kicking, but kept turning its bum toward us. Without sounding too mushy, it really is a miracle the way life develops. I feel priveleged that I'm a woman and can experience this. I will post a pic of the baby as soon as I can.
Now, my opinion on a few recent world events. Hey, I have to put my two-bob"s worth in.
The Asian Tsunamis.
Watching the destruction, heartbreak and utter loss the day after Christmas was one of the hardest things to see during what is supposed to be a festive time of the year. I know I was not alone in shedding pools of tears for the people who lost their lives, homes - everything. Without being too long winded, I felt proud to be an Aussie, to be counted as a person amongst millions who have such compassionate hearts. On the other hand, it made me ashamed as well. The whole nation was quick to react, to help. But I kept thinking about the poor orphaned, mutilated and starving children in Iraq who have had their worlds ripped apart - not by an act of God, but through and act of Evil. Why doesn't the world help them? Why aren't concerts organised, aid agencies plugging on TV every 5 minutes? Or the people in Sudan, the millions slaughtered in Rwanda not so long ago and the Palestinian refugees, stranded in camps, a no-man's-land for generations. Life is just not fair.
The Election of Abbas.
Thank God!!!
Can peace finally be achieved?
The South Australian and Perth Bush Fires.
The pyromaniacs that deliberately start these fires need to be strung up by their genitals over a steaming cauldron of sulphuric acid. Is it a sickness or pure evil? I pray all those people who have lost their homes will get the help they deserve.
Well, that's all I have to say for now. Actually, I can't stand smelling my little bubby's dirty nappy anymore. I'm about to throw up.
See ya'll.
Saturday, 25 December 2004
Friday, 24 December 2004
Merry Christmas!
I know I have been a slack arse blogging, but if having a very energetic 9-and-a-half month old and being four months pregnant isn't a great excuse, I don't know what is.
Tonight, my family will be celebrating a family tradition I really look forward to every year - Midnight Mass. Just thinking about going tonight, however, makes me think back to a Christmas Eve when I was 14 and a very cheap drunk, (come to think of it, I still am a cheap drunk). Anyhow, let me set the scene.
Dad was working the night shift, mum was joining the yearly street Christmas get together before mass, our house was open to all the street's kids - from a mix of cultures and creeds - one of which was my best friend, a Muslim girl I grew up with who lived a few doors down.
Anyway, my eldest sister, who was 20 at the time, had a car and a life, and thought Midnight Mass was boring, but would go out and come back in time. My 16 year old brooding sister - who didn't think it was fair she had to stay home and watch me - thought it would be fun to get stuck into the stash of Tia Maria my mum always had and have some fun. Even to this day, the details are a little sketchy, but here are a few things that have been burned into my memory.
1) Standing at the kitchen sink throwing handfuls at water at kids yelling. ``Is anyone thirsty?''
2) Running through Naremburn with my sister and friend in tow, pounding on the local priest's presbytery door at 10pm asking, ``What time is Midnight Mass''? (In my drunkenness, I really thought this was a legitimate question)
3) Getting dressed to go to church and falling into the wardrobe, with my Muslim friend, flashing my pre-pubescent body and froggy-undies.
Anyway, when my mum got home at 11.45pm, she wasn't impressed. She quizzed my sister - who kept bitch-slapping me to stand up straight - what was wrong with me. Anyway, we made it out the door and walked/stumbled the 500 metres to church. My mum has always sat in the front pew at church and tonight was no exception. By this stage, church was packed. As we entered, all eyes were on us, especially as I was uncontrollably giggling. As we took our places, the aforementioned priest spyed us and gave us the WORST greasy - it was more like a death stare. I vaguely remember not being able to stand and people snickering all around me. As I sat down for the 15th time in 5 minutes, my mum yanked me by the arm and marched me to the side door, expelling me from the sacred mass. Slamming the door behind her, I sat down on the cold stone steps and then proceeded to hurl my guts. Vomit was all over the church steps! I could still hear the carolers inside, but through the haze, I saw an apparition. As it grew closer, I realised it was just my big sister. She just took one look at me, bailed me into her 1976 Toyota Celica and drove me home.
The next morning I suffered my first hangover. Ofcourse, my mum was up banging pots and pans and had the stereo blasting Christmas tunes from 5.30am. I realised that this was my punishment. Not a word was ever spoken about that night - even to this day. She never told dad, who I was scared shitless would withhold my new stack hat. But that day, my pounding head was shown no pity. I guess I deserved it.
I'm really looking forward to this Christmas as it is my baby's first one. I just hope she doesn't throw up on the church choir tonight!
Best wishes to all - and please drive safely.
Tonight, my family will be celebrating a family tradition I really look forward to every year - Midnight Mass. Just thinking about going tonight, however, makes me think back to a Christmas Eve when I was 14 and a very cheap drunk, (come to think of it, I still am a cheap drunk). Anyhow, let me set the scene.
Dad was working the night shift, mum was joining the yearly street Christmas get together before mass, our house was open to all the street's kids - from a mix of cultures and creeds - one of which was my best friend, a Muslim girl I grew up with who lived a few doors down.
Anyway, my eldest sister, who was 20 at the time, had a car and a life, and thought Midnight Mass was boring, but would go out and come back in time. My 16 year old brooding sister - who didn't think it was fair she had to stay home and watch me - thought it would be fun to get stuck into the stash of Tia Maria my mum always had and have some fun. Even to this day, the details are a little sketchy, but here are a few things that have been burned into my memory.
1) Standing at the kitchen sink throwing handfuls at water at kids yelling. ``Is anyone thirsty?''
2) Running through Naremburn with my sister and friend in tow, pounding on the local priest's presbytery door at 10pm asking, ``What time is Midnight Mass''? (In my drunkenness, I really thought this was a legitimate question)
3) Getting dressed to go to church and falling into the wardrobe, with my Muslim friend, flashing my pre-pubescent body and froggy-undies.
Anyway, when my mum got home at 11.45pm, she wasn't impressed. She quizzed my sister - who kept bitch-slapping me to stand up straight - what was wrong with me. Anyway, we made it out the door and walked/stumbled the 500 metres to church. My mum has always sat in the front pew at church and tonight was no exception. By this stage, church was packed. As we entered, all eyes were on us, especially as I was uncontrollably giggling. As we took our places, the aforementioned priest spyed us and gave us the WORST greasy - it was more like a death stare. I vaguely remember not being able to stand and people snickering all around me. As I sat down for the 15th time in 5 minutes, my mum yanked me by the arm and marched me to the side door, expelling me from the sacred mass. Slamming the door behind her, I sat down on the cold stone steps and then proceeded to hurl my guts. Vomit was all over the church steps! I could still hear the carolers inside, but through the haze, I saw an apparition. As it grew closer, I realised it was just my big sister. She just took one look at me, bailed me into her 1976 Toyota Celica and drove me home.
The next morning I suffered my first hangover. Ofcourse, my mum was up banging pots and pans and had the stereo blasting Christmas tunes from 5.30am. I realised that this was my punishment. Not a word was ever spoken about that night - even to this day. She never told dad, who I was scared shitless would withhold my new stack hat. But that day, my pounding head was shown no pity. I guess I deserved it.
I'm really looking forward to this Christmas as it is my baby's first one. I just hope she doesn't throw up on the church choir tonight!
Best wishes to all - and please drive safely.
Sunday, 19 December 2004
I miss him so much!
Sorry I haven't written. My other half has been away for 8 days and I miss him so much, it actually hurts to breath. We have never spent one night apart, let alone a week!
With my darling away in the salt mines of Western Australia, I have had hardly any time to do anything except take care of my little cherubic, sometimes psycho baby. I really feel for single mums.
I'm going to have to run, but will write more when he gets back, hopefully in a a couple of days.
Wish me luck.
With my darling away in the salt mines of Western Australia, I have had hardly any time to do anything except take care of my little cherubic, sometimes psycho baby. I really feel for single mums.
I'm going to have to run, but will write more when he gets back, hopefully in a a couple of days.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, 9 December 2004
Newsreaders shit me!
What's happened to Helen Kapalos?
Everytime I see her, her hair gets shorter and her voice gets deeper. I can't stand listening to her read the news!!! I would rather stick my head in the freezer and repeatedly bang the door on my head. She talks as if she has something in her mouth that tastes disgusting and is about to throw it up. I don't really mean to be this nasty, but if they need a token wog on Channel 9 news, why not employ me? I'm not saying I'm a supermodel, but I'm sure I'd do a better job than her.
Phew, I've vented.
Anyway, on a completely different subject, with Christmas coming, up, everybody's looking for the answer, everybody wants salvation for the soul. I was really pissed off the other day when some people from other religions (NOT NAMING for FEAR of reprisal) have found Christmas decorations OFFENSIVE! This, I find complete lunacy. A few months ago, there was this GIANT candelabra-thingy (AGAIN, not naming names) in Chatswood which I found a waste of space - it's not like there was a change of faith in the Willoughby City Council constitution, but the point is, I didn't go on radio, stirring up hate by saying I found it offensive. What the hell did Christmas baubles and trees ever do to these people! I understand freedom of religion, but the last time I looked, WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION! Next thing you will hear is that Santa has been replaced with the title ``The Man in the red suit who gives ALL people a free Westfield Colouring book at ALL times of year.''
Speaking about Santa, my hubby and bubby and I are going to get our picture with Santa tonight. This is very exciting as I'm not sure whether my little angel will pull off his fake beard or poke his eyes out. Ohh, by the way, my husband refuses to call him Santa, it's (apparently) St Nicholas. I've warned him that if he pushes this line with my daughter, she will be seen as the weird kid at school.
Everytime I see her, her hair gets shorter and her voice gets deeper. I can't stand listening to her read the news!!! I would rather stick my head in the freezer and repeatedly bang the door on my head. She talks as if she has something in her mouth that tastes disgusting and is about to throw it up. I don't really mean to be this nasty, but if they need a token wog on Channel 9 news, why not employ me? I'm not saying I'm a supermodel, but I'm sure I'd do a better job than her.
Phew, I've vented.
Anyway, on a completely different subject, with Christmas coming, up, everybody's looking for the answer, everybody wants salvation for the soul. I was really pissed off the other day when some people from other religions (NOT NAMING for FEAR of reprisal) have found Christmas decorations OFFENSIVE! This, I find complete lunacy. A few months ago, there was this GIANT candelabra-thingy (AGAIN, not naming names) in Chatswood which I found a waste of space - it's not like there was a change of faith in the Willoughby City Council constitution, but the point is, I didn't go on radio, stirring up hate by saying I found it offensive. What the hell did Christmas baubles and trees ever do to these people! I understand freedom of religion, but the last time I looked, WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION! Next thing you will hear is that Santa has been replaced with the title ``The Man in the red suit who gives ALL people a free Westfield Colouring book at ALL times of year.''
Speaking about Santa, my hubby and bubby and I are going to get our picture with Santa tonight. This is very exciting as I'm not sure whether my little angel will pull off his fake beard or poke his eyes out. Ohh, by the way, my husband refuses to call him Santa, it's (apparently) St Nicholas. I've warned him that if he pushes this line with my daughter, she will be seen as the weird kid at school.
Wednesday, 8 December 2004
Nurofen vs Panadol
I have discovered that my baby is not like other babies.
For one, most mums who are going mental with their little one's antics, pump their babies with Panadol to calm them down, give them a bit of pain relief and get some rest. My bub gets hypo. Not just a little, but last night she stayed up till 2.45am wanting to PLAY! I'm sure everyone in my apartment block heard me yelling at her. I feel really guilt about it now, but FUCK, I was SO tired, sorry EXHAUSTED. Anyway, today I decided to get out of the house and took her to Chatswood to get some shopping done. She must be allergic to Target as she screamed, yelled and chucked the biggest tanty. As I stood at the checkout to pay for the nappies, this kindred soul turned to me and said, ``Have you tried Nurofen for babies?''
Within five minutes, now red faced baby on hip, pushing pram and carrying three shopping bags, I waddled to the chemist and bought what I thought, would be the saviour of my sanity. It was 3pm by now, and she had been awake for six hours. Too stubborn to close her big brown eyes, she was so tired. Anyway, I bought the Nurofen, gave it to her and, lo and behold, within five minutes she was sleeping!
This however, was not to last.
12-and-a-half minutes later, and she was up and at `em, full of beans and charming the pants off each shopper in Westfield.
I'm exhausted. Going to sleep
For one, most mums who are going mental with their little one's antics, pump their babies with Panadol to calm them down, give them a bit of pain relief and get some rest. My bub gets hypo. Not just a little, but last night she stayed up till 2.45am wanting to PLAY! I'm sure everyone in my apartment block heard me yelling at her. I feel really guilt about it now, but FUCK, I was SO tired, sorry EXHAUSTED. Anyway, today I decided to get out of the house and took her to Chatswood to get some shopping done. She must be allergic to Target as she screamed, yelled and chucked the biggest tanty. As I stood at the checkout to pay for the nappies, this kindred soul turned to me and said, ``Have you tried Nurofen for babies?''
Within five minutes, now red faced baby on hip, pushing pram and carrying three shopping bags, I waddled to the chemist and bought what I thought, would be the saviour of my sanity. It was 3pm by now, and she had been awake for six hours. Too stubborn to close her big brown eyes, she was so tired. Anyway, I bought the Nurofen, gave it to her and, lo and behold, within five minutes she was sleeping!
This however, was not to last.
12-and-a-half minutes later, and she was up and at `em, full of beans and charming the pants off each shopper in Westfield.
I'm exhausted. Going to sleep
Tuesday, 7 December 2004
More pitter patter of tiny feet,
I can't believe it has been a week and a half since I blogged last, but I have a real excuse.
The best reason is that, wait for it, I'M PREGNANT!!! Yes, I will be going through the whole birth thing all over again come next winter. My darling husband and I had it all confirmed last week. For those of you who have never witnessed an ultrasound, it is truly amazing. The little bugger was even sucking it's thumb! I think, for a while, I was in that Egyptian river, yes DENIAL, but it has definitely sunk in now. While my little princess and the new addition will only be 15 months apart, I'm ecstatic that the Lord has blessed us with another miracle. The morning sickness hasn't been all that bad, it's more the tiredness and headaches, but now all those cravings for Krispy Kremes and Violet Crumbles can be explained. Ohh, and also the reason why I've put on 5 kilograms. (well, that's what I'm telling myself)
The second reason why I haven't blogged is that I picked up some chesty/fluey thing last week. You know that one; blocked ears, blocked nose, chills, sweats and a terrible cough. I honestly haven't been sick like that since 1999 - my last Kickboxing bout. It's totally knocked me for six, and I'm still coughing up green phlegm (gross, I know).
The third reason is that our Hot Water system decided to shit itself last week and it's been an expensive hassle getting it fixed. Something like this always happens just before Christmas, as well as an extra mortgage payment and car insurance. I suppose my loved ones are getting Scratchies this year.
The fourth reason is my angel has been teething, i.e no sleep, clingy, snotty nose, screaming, you get the idea. Yesterday, all she wanted me to do was carry her while standing, I wasn't allowed to sit down. My poor hubby slept on the couch last night - he had to get up at dawn to catch a flight to Melbourne - just to get some sleep.
Well, that's my run down. I should be able to get a little inspiration tonight to write something a bit more entertaining.
``So long have I, gazed into your eyes, wondering what they'd look like on a new born child.''
The best reason is that, wait for it, I'M PREGNANT!!! Yes, I will be going through the whole birth thing all over again come next winter. My darling husband and I had it all confirmed last week. For those of you who have never witnessed an ultrasound, it is truly amazing. The little bugger was even sucking it's thumb! I think, for a while, I was in that Egyptian river, yes DENIAL, but it has definitely sunk in now. While my little princess and the new addition will only be 15 months apart, I'm ecstatic that the Lord has blessed us with another miracle. The morning sickness hasn't been all that bad, it's more the tiredness and headaches, but now all those cravings for Krispy Kremes and Violet Crumbles can be explained. Ohh, and also the reason why I've put on 5 kilograms. (well, that's what I'm telling myself)
The second reason why I haven't blogged is that I picked up some chesty/fluey thing last week. You know that one; blocked ears, blocked nose, chills, sweats and a terrible cough. I honestly haven't been sick like that since 1999 - my last Kickboxing bout. It's totally knocked me for six, and I'm still coughing up green phlegm (gross, I know).
The third reason is that our Hot Water system decided to shit itself last week and it's been an expensive hassle getting it fixed. Something like this always happens just before Christmas, as well as an extra mortgage payment and car insurance. I suppose my loved ones are getting Scratchies this year.
The fourth reason is my angel has been teething, i.e no sleep, clingy, snotty nose, screaming, you get the idea. Yesterday, all she wanted me to do was carry her while standing, I wasn't allowed to sit down. My poor hubby slept on the couch last night - he had to get up at dawn to catch a flight to Melbourne - just to get some sleep.
Well, that's my run down. I should be able to get a little inspiration tonight to write something a bit more entertaining.
``So long have I, gazed into your eyes, wondering what they'd look like on a new born child.''
Thursday, 25 November 2004
You really don't know fear until you have had a child.
I am, by nature, a very fearful person.
It probably stems from my childhood and my mother who has many phobias of her own, and she unwittingly passed them on to me. Not hat she meant to, but it most certainly has something to do with me being extremely clumsy and, of course, the baby of the family for 8 years.
I've been rushed to the emergency department more times than I can remember, and my file there is larger than my whole entire family. At last count, I've had 12 broken bones, 6 torn ligaments, a scratched cornea (which was millimetres from my iris and certain blindness) and I nearly drowned. But that's another story.
Anyway, eventhough I'm an adult, I'm terrified of thunderstorms, but love snakes.I'll never drive faster than 80km/h but I'll faces an opponent in the ring 15 kgs heavier,a whole foot taller and from Maori decent.
I really don't want to pass on my phobias to my daughter, but I find myself wiping her hands with anti-bacterial lotion if she's touched something in public. I know she has to build up her immunity - I wouldn't want her to become the baby in the bubble - but I just can't help it. I'm always afraid something is going to happen to her, and it will be my fault. When she was born, I didn't even want people to hold her because of ''germs''. I thought, somehow I would muck her up as I was always the first kid in the family who would scuff their brand-new shoes. Since she was born, I haven't slept for more than 45mins in one sessions, constantly waking to check she's breathing. Am I neurotic?
Last night, though, I received the biggest scare of my entire life. The poor little teething bub was whingeing all afternoon, so I finally succumbed and gave her some Panadol. I must have squirted the liquid too quick down her throat and it ended up in her windpipe. Without going into too much detail, she wasn't breathing properly and I had to stick my fingers down her throat to make her throw up. For a full hour after that, I just held her, big tears splashing down my cheeks.
When Darp came over an hour later for dinner, I was still a mess.
Anyway, on a lighter note, it was great to see the bugger - even though he's grown a mullet! When I asked him my usual question, ``So are you seeing anyone new? Sorry, let me re-phrase that, how many girls are you seeing at the moment??'' I was quite surprised that the answer was ``one'' and that she was quite pretty, intelligent and normal. Not that Darp hasn't has his share of lookers, but they always seem to have some weird thing going on in their heads. By the way Darp, yes you are a cradle snatcher... only joking you know I love ya.
It probably stems from my childhood and my mother who has many phobias of her own, and she unwittingly passed them on to me. Not hat she meant to, but it most certainly has something to do with me being extremely clumsy and, of course, the baby of the family for 8 years.
I've been rushed to the emergency department more times than I can remember, and my file there is larger than my whole entire family. At last count, I've had 12 broken bones, 6 torn ligaments, a scratched cornea (which was millimetres from my iris and certain blindness) and I nearly drowned. But that's another story.
Anyway, eventhough I'm an adult, I'm terrified of thunderstorms, but love snakes.I'll never drive faster than 80km/h but I'll faces an opponent in the ring 15 kgs heavier,a whole foot taller and from Maori decent.
I really don't want to pass on my phobias to my daughter, but I find myself wiping her hands with anti-bacterial lotion if she's touched something in public. I know she has to build up her immunity - I wouldn't want her to become the baby in the bubble - but I just can't help it. I'm always afraid something is going to happen to her, and it will be my fault. When she was born, I didn't even want people to hold her because of ''germs''. I thought, somehow I would muck her up as I was always the first kid in the family who would scuff their brand-new shoes. Since she was born, I haven't slept for more than 45mins in one sessions, constantly waking to check she's breathing. Am I neurotic?
Last night, though, I received the biggest scare of my entire life. The poor little teething bub was whingeing all afternoon, so I finally succumbed and gave her some Panadol. I must have squirted the liquid too quick down her throat and it ended up in her windpipe. Without going into too much detail, she wasn't breathing properly and I had to stick my fingers down her throat to make her throw up. For a full hour after that, I just held her, big tears splashing down my cheeks.
When Darp came over an hour later for dinner, I was still a mess.
Anyway, on a lighter note, it was great to see the bugger - even though he's grown a mullet! When I asked him my usual question, ``So are you seeing anyone new? Sorry, let me re-phrase that, how many girls are you seeing at the moment??'' I was quite surprised that the answer was ``one'' and that she was quite pretty, intelligent and normal. Not that Darp hasn't has his share of lookers, but they always seem to have some weird thing going on in their heads. By the way Darp, yes you are a cradle snatcher... only joking you know I love ya.
Wednesday, 24 November 2004
Babies are smarter than you think!
Why is it every time I change my little girl's nappy, within three minutes she has done a big, stinky poo?
Every morning, her Huggies is wet, heavy and does not contain anything resembling what she ingested the night before. Every morning, I feed her Weetbix and yogurt and wait, wait for the stink. But then, I cave in and change the wet nappy. It's then she gives me this mischievous grin. Her eyes sparkle and she stares into space for a minute or two. And then BAM! I smell it. She must have this obsessive compulsive thing that her brown pebbles must be laid in a clean, dry nappy. So, then off I go to change her nappy for the second time in 5 minutes.
Whoever is under the delusion that changing a baby's nappy is cute has not changed many in their lifetime. At first, it's a little fun. ``Ohh, look at their little widdle-widdles!'' ``How cute are these little nappies!'' But soon the novelty wears off.
When they are really newborn, the first couple of days, their poo is a dark green, sticky, tar like substance. It doesn't smell but it sticks to their little bums. A few days after that, if they are breastfeed, it changes to a diarrhea like yellowy substance that doesn't really smell, but stains ANYTHING it gets on. Let me re-tell a story that happened when my bub was only 10 days old.
It was a Saturday morning and my husband very kindly offered to change our daughter's nappy and let me lay in bed a little longer than usual. I warned him to do it quickly - off with the old, on with the new - like greased lightning. He assured me it would be fine. ``How hard is it to change a nappy?'' he said. I felt reassured and closed my eyes. Without exaggeration, 45 seconds later, I heard this explosive, wet fart and then ``Oh Shit.'' I jumped out of bed and to my horror found my husband's T'shirt covered in yellow, runny poo. As he was standing a good 15 cms away from the change table, a trail of the disgusting stuff was all over the bathroom floor tiles and dripping down the change table, soiling clean nappies, towels and other baby paraphanalia. Just as I got to the bathroom door, my clever little girl followed it up with a long wizz and proceeded to smear her arms, tummy, hair, legs in the mess. She actually had this look of evil on her face as she swam in the excrement. I just looked at him. He didn't know what to say. I was about to explode ( as you can imagine a new mum who has had less than 4 hours sleep would being faced with this). ``Don;t worry babe, I'll clean her up,just go back to bed''. I just glared at him, grabbed the now filthy bugger and proceeded to strip her now yellow stained clothes. Naked, I carried her over to the sink to wash her off when, out of nowhere, she let rip another wet, runny fart. Baby poo slithered down my body (I was holding her close), down my legs and onto my Tweety fluffy slippers which stained immediately. At that stage, my husband was about to crack up but then he caught the look in my eyes. ``This may be funny tomorrow, but if you f****n dare laugh, I will smear this shit all over you,'' I hissed. He bent down diligently and started cleaning my feet with baby wipes. Unbelievably, and I swear I'm not making this up, she let it rip once again. Still without a nappy, more poo sprayed my hubby as he was kneeling on the floor cleaning me up. There were no words.
Suffice is to say, ever since Pooey Saturday, we learned our lesson never to leave her without a nappy on.
Anyway, ever since she's been on solids, her poos stink so badly! It makes me want to throw up and constantly live with the Glen 20 can within arms reach. My double problem, is that I have a very sensitive nose and can smell things a mile away. I also have a problem with certain smells; eggs, raw meat, fish and a number of other things. Many times, I've rewashed the dishes after my hubby has kindly finished just cos I can still smell egg, fish, meat etc etc etc.
Do I have a problem?
PS Have been craving Violet Crumbles for the last two nights Every time I go to bed, all I can think of ar these delicious treats... and I can't even remember the last time I ate one! I'll have to go and buy a share pack of them today and eat the whole bag myself.
Every morning, her Huggies is wet, heavy and does not contain anything resembling what she ingested the night before. Every morning, I feed her Weetbix and yogurt and wait, wait for the stink. But then, I cave in and change the wet nappy. It's then she gives me this mischievous grin. Her eyes sparkle and she stares into space for a minute or two. And then BAM! I smell it. She must have this obsessive compulsive thing that her brown pebbles must be laid in a clean, dry nappy. So, then off I go to change her nappy for the second time in 5 minutes.
Whoever is under the delusion that changing a baby's nappy is cute has not changed many in their lifetime. At first, it's a little fun. ``Ohh, look at their little widdle-widdles!'' ``How cute are these little nappies!'' But soon the novelty wears off.
When they are really newborn, the first couple of days, their poo is a dark green, sticky, tar like substance. It doesn't smell but it sticks to their little bums. A few days after that, if they are breastfeed, it changes to a diarrhea like yellowy substance that doesn't really smell, but stains ANYTHING it gets on. Let me re-tell a story that happened when my bub was only 10 days old.
It was a Saturday morning and my husband very kindly offered to change our daughter's nappy and let me lay in bed a little longer than usual. I warned him to do it quickly - off with the old, on with the new - like greased lightning. He assured me it would be fine. ``How hard is it to change a nappy?'' he said. I felt reassured and closed my eyes. Without exaggeration, 45 seconds later, I heard this explosive, wet fart and then ``Oh Shit.'' I jumped out of bed and to my horror found my husband's T'shirt covered in yellow, runny poo. As he was standing a good 15 cms away from the change table, a trail of the disgusting stuff was all over the bathroom floor tiles and dripping down the change table, soiling clean nappies, towels and other baby paraphanalia. Just as I got to the bathroom door, my clever little girl followed it up with a long wizz and proceeded to smear her arms, tummy, hair, legs in the mess. She actually had this look of evil on her face as she swam in the excrement. I just looked at him. He didn't know what to say. I was about to explode ( as you can imagine a new mum who has had less than 4 hours sleep would being faced with this). ``Don;t worry babe, I'll clean her up,just go back to bed''. I just glared at him, grabbed the now filthy bugger and proceeded to strip her now yellow stained clothes. Naked, I carried her over to the sink to wash her off when, out of nowhere, she let rip another wet, runny fart. Baby poo slithered down my body (I was holding her close), down my legs and onto my Tweety fluffy slippers which stained immediately. At that stage, my husband was about to crack up but then he caught the look in my eyes. ``This may be funny tomorrow, but if you f****n dare laugh, I will smear this shit all over you,'' I hissed. He bent down diligently and started cleaning my feet with baby wipes. Unbelievably, and I swear I'm not making this up, she let it rip once again. Still without a nappy, more poo sprayed my hubby as he was kneeling on the floor cleaning me up. There were no words.
Suffice is to say, ever since Pooey Saturday, we learned our lesson never to leave her without a nappy on.
Anyway, ever since she's been on solids, her poos stink so badly! It makes me want to throw up and constantly live with the Glen 20 can within arms reach. My double problem, is that I have a very sensitive nose and can smell things a mile away. I also have a problem with certain smells; eggs, raw meat, fish and a number of other things. Many times, I've rewashed the dishes after my hubby has kindly finished just cos I can still smell egg, fish, meat etc etc etc.
Do I have a problem?
PS Have been craving Violet Crumbles for the last two nights Every time I go to bed, all I can think of ar these delicious treats... and I can't even remember the last time I ate one! I'll have to go and buy a share pack of them today and eat the whole bag myself.
Tuesday, 23 November 2004
Catchy bloody songs!
I know it's been a week since I blogged last, but I've been so busy doing absolutely F all. (does that make sense??)
One thing that I have discovered is that at 3.30pm every week day, I can actually zone out for half an hour. Why I hear you ask? 1, 2, 3, 4 HI 5! Yes, my daughter loves the annoying buggers, and it seems as if their annoyingly easy to remember songs have rubbed off on me. This week's feature song is ``Snakes and Ladders.'' I was actually singing it while at Coles yesterday! No joke..
``Up, up, up and I'm sliding down, snakes and ladders I'm chasing you around.''
Ohhh, I'm so sad, I know the words off by heart! Nathan the over-actor, over-dancer really tries, he just cracks me up. I love watching just how sweaty his armpits can get! But, the one that really irritates me is that Charlie chic.. I hate the way she sings and smiles, she's too sickly sweet.
Whenever I watch these types of shows, I wonder why they don't have wogs? They have the token Asian and finally on Playschool they have some indigenous Australians, but how about someone with olive skin, a different name other than Wayne or Lisa? Maybe in another 200 years.
Today, I was so excited, my little baby nearly crawled and she said BYE BYE! I left her with mum to go to a Market Research group. $80 to talk about how bad the McDonald's ads are. It was quite fun seeing as one of my biggest pet hates are bad TV commercials. Now I have an extra $80 to buy a new top or shoes.
``How did I ever come this far without baby? That was before, my eyes had seen the light.Never did you ever give me reason to doubt you baby. You are my destiny....''
(20 points for anyone who can name the Prince song those lyrics are from. An extra 10 for the Album)
One thing that I have discovered is that at 3.30pm every week day, I can actually zone out for half an hour. Why I hear you ask? 1, 2, 3, 4 HI 5! Yes, my daughter loves the annoying buggers, and it seems as if their annoyingly easy to remember songs have rubbed off on me. This week's feature song is ``Snakes and Ladders.'' I was actually singing it while at Coles yesterday! No joke..
``Up, up, up and I'm sliding down, snakes and ladders I'm chasing you around.''
Ohhh, I'm so sad, I know the words off by heart! Nathan the over-actor, over-dancer really tries, he just cracks me up. I love watching just how sweaty his armpits can get! But, the one that really irritates me is that Charlie chic.. I hate the way she sings and smiles, she's too sickly sweet.
Whenever I watch these types of shows, I wonder why they don't have wogs? They have the token Asian and finally on Playschool they have some indigenous Australians, but how about someone with olive skin, a different name other than Wayne or Lisa? Maybe in another 200 years.
Today, I was so excited, my little baby nearly crawled and she said BYE BYE! I left her with mum to go to a Market Research group. $80 to talk about how bad the McDonald's ads are. It was quite fun seeing as one of my biggest pet hates are bad TV commercials. Now I have an extra $80 to buy a new top or shoes.
``How did I ever come this far without baby? That was before, my eyes had seen the light.Never did you ever give me reason to doubt you baby. You are my destiny....''
(20 points for anyone who can name the Prince song those lyrics are from. An extra 10 for the Album)
Wednesday, 17 November 2004
I'm losing my brain!
It's been said that every time a woman has a baby, she loses one quarter of her brain.
I'm not sure how accurate this is, but honestly some days, since I had my little munchkin, I feel like the biggest bimbo.
Anyway, today my sister and I went to Burwood Westfield. We visit a different shopping centre every couple of days to break the monotony of being at home with kids. As we push our prams around - she has this double pram monstrosity that clears a path in any shopping centre traffic jam - we gossip, try on shoes and eat McDonald's or Subway. We bitch about skinny girls, fat girls, faggy looking woggy guys and people with really bad fashion sense.
For example, there was this girl who looked about 25 today who looked like a complete idiot. She had dyed her long hair jet black and had peroxided a thick streak of her hair on top of her head white blonde. She looked like a freaking skunk! And to make things worse, she was wearing skin tight black and white snake skin vinyl pants. She also had on ten centimetre high stiletto thigh length boots - with STUDS! I'll relate the exchange between my sister and I.
``Oh my God, check out this chic, she looks like a freaking skunk,'' I said.
``Whichever hairdresser did that to her should be shot,'' she said.
``And look, she's walking with her (mid 50-year-old Indian) parents. I would be embarrassed to walk with my daughter if she looked like that,'' I said.
``If that was my daughter, I'd smack her in the head and wouldn't let her leave the house looking like that.'' she said.
We then burst into peals of laughter.
Another favourite pastime of ours is checking out good looking guys. While we are both married to gorgeous men, a little bit of eye candy never goes astray. You would be surprised how many good looking guys there are at shopping centres during the day. The funny thing is, if we ever caught our hubbies checking out another woman, we'd both be shouting blue murder. I'll relate another exchange we had today.
``You should have seen his sexy guy on Burwood Rd getting into his truck.He wasn't wearing a shirt, only shorts. He was hot,'' I said.
``Did he have a good body?'' she said.
``Yeah. But then I saw that he was getting into a truck with garbage removal services printed on it,'' I said.
``Ohhhhhh.''
I don't exactly understand her last ``ohhhhh.'' She was probably imagining what the guy looked like not being turned on by garbage!
Anyway, back to the topic of this entry. After we finished our shopping, my sister and I parted company and I went to buy some meat. I'm not really familiar with Burwood Westfield, but I was sure I knew how to get back to my car. I mean, how hard could it be? I parked in the Parents with Prams section right outside the doors to the shops. You wouldn't believe it, but I walked around and around for about 45 mins. I was getting disoriented, baby was screaming ``MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA'' and I was at the point of losing it. I found a customer service desk.
``I've lost my car, I mean I don't know how to get to the carpark. I went up the escalator thingy and Target was one level up.''
I then burst into tears. This woman just looked at me in complete disbelief.
``Okay pet, no need to cry. Do you remember what colour you parked on?''
I just stood there shaking my head, tears coursing down my cheeks.
``I think it was pink.'' I sobbed.
``No dear, there isn't a pink level.''
Anyway after explaining where I thought the car was she looked at me with a look of pity on her face and said,
``You are on the right level. Just walk 100 metres and then go down the travelator.''
``But, I just came from that direction, I've been walking up and down this section for 10 mins.''
I think at this point she thought I was insane. She walked around her desk and escorted me to the travelator which led straight to my car. I had walked past it about 7 times.
Now can you see why I think I'm losing my brain??
I'm not sure how accurate this is, but honestly some days, since I had my little munchkin, I feel like the biggest bimbo.
Anyway, today my sister and I went to Burwood Westfield. We visit a different shopping centre every couple of days to break the monotony of being at home with kids. As we push our prams around - she has this double pram monstrosity that clears a path in any shopping centre traffic jam - we gossip, try on shoes and eat McDonald's or Subway. We bitch about skinny girls, fat girls, faggy looking woggy guys and people with really bad fashion sense.
For example, there was this girl who looked about 25 today who looked like a complete idiot. She had dyed her long hair jet black and had peroxided a thick streak of her hair on top of her head white blonde. She looked like a freaking skunk! And to make things worse, she was wearing skin tight black and white snake skin vinyl pants. She also had on ten centimetre high stiletto thigh length boots - with STUDS! I'll relate the exchange between my sister and I.
``Oh my God, check out this chic, she looks like a freaking skunk,'' I said.
``Whichever hairdresser did that to her should be shot,'' she said.
``And look, she's walking with her (mid 50-year-old Indian) parents. I would be embarrassed to walk with my daughter if she looked like that,'' I said.
``If that was my daughter, I'd smack her in the head and wouldn't let her leave the house looking like that.'' she said.
We then burst into peals of laughter.
Another favourite pastime of ours is checking out good looking guys. While we are both married to gorgeous men, a little bit of eye candy never goes astray. You would be surprised how many good looking guys there are at shopping centres during the day. The funny thing is, if we ever caught our hubbies checking out another woman, we'd both be shouting blue murder. I'll relate another exchange we had today.
``You should have seen his sexy guy on Burwood Rd getting into his truck.He wasn't wearing a shirt, only shorts. He was hot,'' I said.
``Did he have a good body?'' she said.
``Yeah. But then I saw that he was getting into a truck with garbage removal services printed on it,'' I said.
``Ohhhhhh.''
I don't exactly understand her last ``ohhhhh.'' She was probably imagining what the guy looked like not being turned on by garbage!
Anyway, back to the topic of this entry. After we finished our shopping, my sister and I parted company and I went to buy some meat. I'm not really familiar with Burwood Westfield, but I was sure I knew how to get back to my car. I mean, how hard could it be? I parked in the Parents with Prams section right outside the doors to the shops. You wouldn't believe it, but I walked around and around for about 45 mins. I was getting disoriented, baby was screaming ``MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA'' and I was at the point of losing it. I found a customer service desk.
``I've lost my car, I mean I don't know how to get to the carpark. I went up the escalator thingy and Target was one level up.''
I then burst into tears. This woman just looked at me in complete disbelief.
``Okay pet, no need to cry. Do you remember what colour you parked on?''
I just stood there shaking my head, tears coursing down my cheeks.
``I think it was pink.'' I sobbed.
``No dear, there isn't a pink level.''
Anyway after explaining where I thought the car was she looked at me with a look of pity on her face and said,
``You are on the right level. Just walk 100 metres and then go down the travelator.''
``But, I just came from that direction, I've been walking up and down this section for 10 mins.''
I think at this point she thought I was insane. She walked around her desk and escorted me to the travelator which led straight to my car. I had walked past it about 7 times.
Now can you see why I think I'm losing my brain??
Tuesday, 16 November 2004
I'm so pissed off right now!
Ok, so I tuned into the Cutting Edge at 8.30pm tonight to see what promised to be a very interesting doco on Evangelism in America. Three quarters of the way through, and the stupid show freezes. Instead of SBS apologising or un-pausing the show, they leave it frozen on a Guatemalan Evangelist with bad hair mid way through sentence. And to make matters worse, it stayed like that for 15 minutes, while I got angrier and angrier. Finally, it starts going again only to FREEZE UP AGAIN on the bad-haired Guatemalan. Then, the show abruptly ends, without any explanation and Mary Kostakidis is reading the news. While I think Mary is tops, I really wanted to see the end of the program.
Fark!! I was just getting stuck into it and getting worked up about the hypocrisy of the whole Evangelism thing but I'm too pissed to off to write about it.
I'm going to bed!
PS I know I'm getting readers, but I'm not getting many comments. I enjoy reading these comments, so feel free to put forward your two cents worth.
Good night.
Fark!! I was just getting stuck into it and getting worked up about the hypocrisy of the whole Evangelism thing but I'm too pissed to off to write about it.
I'm going to bed!
PS I know I'm getting readers, but I'm not getting many comments. I enjoy reading these comments, so feel free to put forward your two cents worth.
Good night.
It's all over.....
As Carrie wrote her last column women all over Australia were awash with floods of tears.
Okay, I'm being a touch overdramatic, but last night as the credits rolled after the final episode of Sex and the City, I was truly on a downer. For me, it was the perfect ending, but I am a die hard romantic. My husband rolled his eyes as I cried when Carrie and Big (we now know his name is John) kissed and he swept her away back to New York.
Now that's how a woman should be kissed!!!
I do feel sorry for my hubby. I love him to death, but he is probably the least romantic person I've ever met. As a typical little princess (well, that's what my parents call me), I want the fairytale, the beautiful fru fru ball gowns, the roses, chocolates, music. Anyway, I suppose he's used to me gushing, but I'm sure the the poor bloke was ready to stick his head in the oven after having to hear me say ``why don't you kiss me like that'' or ``say something romantic''.
Are there romantic men out there like in the movies?? If Shrek can be romantic and sweep his ogre Fiona off her feet, I think there's hope for my Balkan prince yet.
Well, my baby just woke up from her 15 minute nap. I can't believe her naps are getting shorter and shorter. I'm exhausted, the house is a mess and I'm still in my nightgown.
Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And now I have to start thinking about what I'm going to cook for dinner.
Okay, I'm being a touch overdramatic, but last night as the credits rolled after the final episode of Sex and the City, I was truly on a downer. For me, it was the perfect ending, but I am a die hard romantic. My husband rolled his eyes as I cried when Carrie and Big (we now know his name is John) kissed and he swept her away back to New York.
Now that's how a woman should be kissed!!!
I do feel sorry for my hubby. I love him to death, but he is probably the least romantic person I've ever met. As a typical little princess (well, that's what my parents call me), I want the fairytale, the beautiful fru fru ball gowns, the roses, chocolates, music. Anyway, I suppose he's used to me gushing, but I'm sure the the poor bloke was ready to stick his head in the oven after having to hear me say ``why don't you kiss me like that'' or ``say something romantic''.
Are there romantic men out there like in the movies?? If Shrek can be romantic and sweep his ogre Fiona off her feet, I think there's hope for my Balkan prince yet.
Well, my baby just woke up from her 15 minute nap. I can't believe her naps are getting shorter and shorter. I'm exhausted, the house is a mess and I'm still in my nightgown.
Aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And now I have to start thinking about what I'm going to cook for dinner.
Sunday, 14 November 2004
Un-funniest home videos
I hate Funniest Home Videos. Not as much as 60 minutes, but I do hate this stupid show with a passion. Unfortunately, my husband is under the distinct misconception that out 8-month-old finds this pathetic excuse for entertainment funny. She's a baby, she finds her own farts (and loud ones they truly are) hilarious.
Anyway,I was making mashed chicken and zucchini for her and I hear that annoying ``Australia, Australia, this is you''. I nearly stuffed boiling hot baby food into my ears just to make the pain stop! Usually, I would bark at my husband to change the channel. It is a very rare occasion to find the remote in his control, (he calls me the remote Nazi) and I wasn't talking to him, due to a hormonal mood swing of sorts. Anyway, I just can't understand how we are expected to digest the same slop week after week of men impaling themselves on a telegraph pole or stupid teenagers falling off the trampoline. True, I, just like the next person can piss myself stupid at someone hurting themselves, but how many times can it still be deemed funny??? And the parents taping their kids. They can see that their baby is going to really hurt themselves, but they wouldn't dream about putting the camera down to stop their child lose an eye, they might just win a new TV or even DVD player. No joke, this one episode, the idiotic excuse for a mother was taping her toddler eating dog shit.. and laughing about it!
While I'm ranting, I just remembered two commercials I absolutely hate. The Panadol ad, when that ugly, hairy fat guy has a headache and still needs to ``go on stage'' - I seriously want to kick him in the mouth - and the new sunscreen ad when the girls spray sunscreen on the dorky guy ``psst psst'' and then start kissing his back. I don't get it?!?
This time tomorrow night I will be sitting down - with my mobile phone so I can sms my sister during the ad breaks - to watch the last episode of Sex and the City. I just know I will be crying, and I just know many, many women will be taking Prozac the next day to get over the depression of the show ending. Is this how my mother felt when Dynasty's last episode aired? I can honestly say I love this show, I'm, addicted to it, and no other show in history will ever take it's place in my heart. Am I being touch over dramatic? I don't think so, so many women I know feel exactly the same way. Why oh why does it have to end???????
Maybe I need to get a hobby.
By the way, still craving Krispy Kremes.
Anyway,I was making mashed chicken and zucchini for her and I hear that annoying ``Australia, Australia, this is you''. I nearly stuffed boiling hot baby food into my ears just to make the pain stop! Usually, I would bark at my husband to change the channel. It is a very rare occasion to find the remote in his control, (he calls me the remote Nazi) and I wasn't talking to him, due to a hormonal mood swing of sorts. Anyway, I just can't understand how we are expected to digest the same slop week after week of men impaling themselves on a telegraph pole or stupid teenagers falling off the trampoline. True, I, just like the next person can piss myself stupid at someone hurting themselves, but how many times can it still be deemed funny??? And the parents taping their kids. They can see that their baby is going to really hurt themselves, but they wouldn't dream about putting the camera down to stop their child lose an eye, they might just win a new TV or even DVD player. No joke, this one episode, the idiotic excuse for a mother was taping her toddler eating dog shit.. and laughing about it!
While I'm ranting, I just remembered two commercials I absolutely hate. The Panadol ad, when that ugly, hairy fat guy has a headache and still needs to ``go on stage'' - I seriously want to kick him in the mouth - and the new sunscreen ad when the girls spray sunscreen on the dorky guy ``psst psst'' and then start kissing his back. I don't get it?!?
This time tomorrow night I will be sitting down - with my mobile phone so I can sms my sister during the ad breaks - to watch the last episode of Sex and the City. I just know I will be crying, and I just know many, many women will be taking Prozac the next day to get over the depression of the show ending. Is this how my mother felt when Dynasty's last episode aired? I can honestly say I love this show, I'm, addicted to it, and no other show in history will ever take it's place in my heart. Am I being touch over dramatic? I don't think so, so many women I know feel exactly the same way. Why oh why does it have to end???????
Maybe I need to get a hobby.
By the way, still craving Krispy Kremes.
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