Twisted Lyrics! Backstory and #1

September 3, 2015September 3, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

So, so many years ago now, I came across a hilarious site. I have no idea the name of it, or even where I could find it now, but it was devoted to the hilarious mis-hearing of song lyrics. I fell in love with the concept, when I read one user mention their version of George Michael’s Careless Whisper – sing with me now:

(following “I’m never gonna dance again”)

“I must admit I have no rhythm!”

LOL ’til the cows come home. The real lyric is:

“Guilty feet have got no rhythm.”

(tee hee hee)

This is the inspiration behind a new series I wanna begin called

Twisted Lyrics!

Of course I’ll start. And of course it’ll be a kiddie-themed song that has been doing my head in for weeks now.

Any Aussies will know of a little intsy-bintsy-teeny-tiny group called The Wiggles? Maybe some international readers will have heard of this Yellow/Blue/Purple/Red coloured group as well?!

They have a TV show. Called Ready Steady Wiggles. And in the theme song (which only plays in our household about 28 times per day) I thought they sang

“Ready, Steady, Wiggles! With Emma on the side and Anthony too.”

Now, there is an Emma Wiggle. Yellow uniform she wears. So that makes sense. There is also an Anthony Wiggle, who dons blue chaps. The rest of the song mentions that you can jump like a kangaroo, and the names of their friends “Dorothy, Wags and Henry too” (dinosaur, dog and octopus) “and Captain Feathersword woo hoo!”

So where were the mentions of the other Wiggles – purple Lachy and Red Simon? Why weren’t they in the song?

I have seriously been scratching my head for weeks. I was certain that no where else in the song, they were mentioned. And sure enough, I heard it again and again

“With Emma on the side and Anthony too.”

The visual even showed Emma pop up, followed by Lachy, Simon and then Anthony on the other end of the screen. It didn’t make sense. Why would they omit the PURPLE and RED Wiggle, why damn it? (Mother’s woes).

And then I heard it. I somehow heard it differently just the other day. Were they singing acapella? Did I just hear it without making the words up in my head. I heard:

“Ready Steady Wiggle! With Emma Lachy Simon, and Anthony too.”

I had mistaken ‘Lachy Simon and’ for ‘on the side and.’

Face palm. Seriously?

So I thank The Wiggles for the inspiration to begin this series. There are so many more misheard song lyrics, I promise. Hopefully normal songs that normal folk will recognise too.

(I totally did not take the above photo, baby girl wishes I had those contacts – so no, it’s not mine)

Happy Monday

April 20, 2015April 20, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

As wrecked as I now am, ironically from the happiness of the day, I felt it ever so important to share in the joy and express why and how today was a ‘good news day.’

Because you can never have too much positivity.

It all started when I drove in to work, and found a park, in a really busy area where it’s usually really hard to find a spot at that time of morning. Lucky Tick.

I picked up a coffee and got into work before starting time. Soon after I had my yearly performance review with my boss, and was very pleased to hear she was very happy with me. I was appreciated, and they were glad to have me back, even in a part-time role. It’s always nice to hear that you’re wanted and appreciated. Job satisfaction Tick and Tick.

I caught up with a friend, who was now in a serious relationship with the guy she had liked for about 2 years. Hearing of how well things were going for her, made me so happy. I love stories like that. People who are meant to be, ending up together. She thanked me for helping her not lose it over that time, and for helping her ‘persevere.’ Awww shucks. Love and Happiness Tick. Dreams DO come true. You CAN get the guy!

I then got a random phone call from a health care business on my side of town. A former work colleague had put me down as a referee on her resume, and the place she had recently applied to was calling to get the low down on her! Being the fantastic person that she is, it was no problem to speak highly of her, tell them I missed having someone like her around in my current workplace, and that she was a very happy, friendly, talkative, yet hard-working and loyal employee. I messaged her later today, and she said she got the job! She had been looking for so long, and for so long I had wished there was something I could do to help her. And unwittingly, I totally did!

Job and Friend Helping Tick!

Then I happened across a programme at work, pretty much based on the changing face of Australia and how we have become the nation we are today through our people and achievements. I was proud to again be witness to the remarkable feat Cathy Freeman achieved at the Sydney Olympics, when she ran the 400 metre sprint and won, under the intense pressure and scrutiny of the world. Seeing the vision of her excel and succeed, amidst such public and also personal pressure, of being in the position to realise her dreams and became an Olympic champion, was truly motivational and touching. Inspirational Tick.

A horribly bittersweet story came next, of the Australian team that were one of the countries that had partaken in ‘Operation Babylift,’ where in 1975 they tried to rescue babies from orphanages in South Vietnam as a result of the war at that time. Although most of the footage of this event was re-enacted, seeing the images and hearing the stories of the people who fought against terrifying odds to take sick, close to dying children on a plane, crying and scared and set out in cardboard boxes, and nurturing them until they set foot on Australian soil, was truly moving. I struggled with great difficulty to fight the sobs as I watched one scene, of a woman run towards the bus which was taking the Australian team with the orphaned babies to their ready bound-for-Australia plane, begging them to take her child.

Crying, and begging, for them to take her baby. She wanted her baby to be saved, to be safe, in light of the harsh and sad reality that she, her baby’s mother, may never come out of the war alive. She couldn’t come with them. Being a mother, this scene was incredibly hard to watch, and it was only a re-enactment. Albeit a true story, nonetheless.

The happy ending out of it all, is that all the crew and the orphaned babies made it back to Australia alive. In sum, approximately 3000 babies were saved as a result of ‘Operation Babylift.’ And seeing that many of the adopted babies had grown and had families of their own in this great country of ours, made me so happy, made me so bloody proud to be part of a country that was part of such an important humanitarian effort. I am so, so proud to be Australian. Heart-tugging and patriotic TICK, TICK, TICK.

And then on a completely different, and lighter note: I came home and found a save-the-date card had been sent to us for an upcoming wedding of a really old friend of mine. I love weddings, and you know life is good when you have great things to celebrate. Celebration Tick. Milk it when you can.

I shared my ‘good news day’ on facebook, and funnily have had cousins messaging me asking if I’m pregnant again. No, for the record, I’m not. I’m enjoying my red wine too much at the moment to be ready for that again. But it was lovely to hear from people on the other side of town, whether 30 minutes away, 60 minutes away, or on the other side of the world (as occurred when my cousin in Germany messaged me!) Family Tick.

It’s been a great day. It’s been a great Monday. Today has been somewhat of an exceptional example, yet I think the lesson here is that you can find good, no matter how small, in every day.

Helping other makes you happy.

Sharing with others makes you happy.

Being rewarded makes you happy.

I forgot the best part of the day. Laughing with baby girl on the couch, as I blew air into her face, and she exploded wet raspberries onto mine.

Motherly, Tick. 🙂

Life is good. Life is great. Let’s not forget that.

Seasons that don’t do what they’re told

March 29, 2015March 29, 2015 / smikg / 2 Comments

When you live in Melbourne, you can’t help but be overly concerned with the weather.

You can’t escape it. It’s not just another casual ice-breaker topic like in other, normal-climate parts of the world. The highs and the lows can be so drastic, so contrasting, often from one hour to the next, that us as Melburnians, cannot help but talk so much about our damn weather.

“Beautiful day today.”

“It’s so cold today.”

These aren’t just simple conversation starters with work colleagues. These are real, bonafide issues of debate my non-Melbournian friends. Weather is always, a serious surprise. You can never really know what is going to happen the following day – even the weather presenters guess half the time.

This is true ALL through the year.

One current theme running rampant has been this remark:

“Some summer we’ve had.”

You can’t hear my sarcasm, but we haven’t had much of a summer. Sure, there were hot days; but no real hot, long, drawn-out summer spells usually so characteristic of our humid state. No, we got a couple, at best, really hot days in a row, before a rainy, slightly humid low 20-something degree day came along. And then stayed. For like forever.

I was in denial all the way through. All through summer I kept saying “we’ll get a late summer, we’ll get a stinking hot spell late Feb right into March as usual” (observe my true climate guide for an accurate representation of Melbourne weather seasons).

We are now in March. For those of you who haven’t noticed, we’re actually on the cusp of April. And sadly, we’ve already had the heater on in our house more times than I’d like to count.

I’m a summer gal. I love the sunshine, the warmth, the socialising and the out and about. I love the ease, the mildness that allows you to dress so comfortably, the warm nights that let you dream and gaze at the stars outside, and I love the long, light-filled days. I got caught in the rain a month back, and it was actually fun, and pleasurable, because it was still warm. Summer is just so easy.

I HATE being cold. I hate shivering in the morning as I get dressed, fighting against the coastal wind as I charge my way through the doors at work, and I hate never being able to get the house, and keep it warm, for long enough. It’s always crisp, fresh, and biting.

However, something’s changed.

I constantly remind myself, that winter is always so much worse as we’re in anticipation of it, and that once it’s here, it’s actually not too bad. This concept has helped. But it’s more than that. Summer is easy, but summer means busy too, and finding time to catch up on stuff, to read, to write, has just been so challenging and trying in the last several months. I love to go out, yes. I love to socialise, yes. I love having things to do, places to go and people to see, yes, yes, yes.

But I’m kind of looking forward to chilling at home and hibernating through the cold.

I don’t know what it is that’s made me think this way, this year, and not every other year previously. Is it the fact that I have more on now? The fact that I’m a Mum? Do I need more time for myself and my stuff, because life is just busier now? Perhaps. I’ve always said that winter is only fun when you don’t have to go out, you don’t have to work, in fact you don’t have to do anything at all. Basically, if you’re a bear, winter is awesome. If you can just stay at home snuggled up on the couch with your favourite blankie drinking hot chocolate, reading to your heart’s content and watching all your guilty-pleasure trashy shows, well winter looks kind of rocking in a mellow sorta way.

I am actually looking forward to winter… a little bit. Staying in and lounging in your trakkies ALL day because you can, and the weather doesn’t make you feel bad for doing so. Watching the rain and feeling infinitely inspired to write, and write, and write. (I know I shouldn’t wait for the rain, in order to write, but you know, this shit helps). Using the cold as an excuse to not go anywhere and just basically, be a bear.

Don’t get me wrong, I was still reflecting today, on this gorgeously hot Melbourne day, the (lack of) summer that had just passed, feeling quite depressed that I only got two days at the beach. Just two. I bought new bikinis for this. Baby girl has 3 sets of bathers. 3. She is 19 months old, and she has 3 sets of bathers.

But never mind. It’s something we’ve come to expect, something that is a natural part of life for Melburnians. My most accurate representation of this comes in an early memory, of being a teenager lying on my parents’ bench out on the verandah in the midday hot sun, and then coming inside to green-vision thinking ‘am I going to be burnt?’ to then sitting in front of the heater that night, shivering from the cold.

That’s our city for you. Beautiful one day… screwed if I know what’s next.

It’s a weighty issue

October 14, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

I may not be very popular after this post – much like the rich man who cries poor – but, as I try so hard and so often NOT to say in blog-land, FUCK IT.

So, people who read this blog often, and all of my family and friends, will be very aware that I am now a mother. Almost 14 months on, and she is the best thing, the most amazing blessing, that has ever happened to Hubbie and I.

I’m very grateful, for a lot of things post-pregnancy. I’m grateful that we are starting to see her pull herself up, we’re grateful in hearing her babble and try to talk, I’m grateful that we’re becoming more social and heading out more… and I’m also grateful that my body has returned to its pre-pregnancy size. In fact, it did so pretty soon after having her.

That’s just the way my body is. I’m not going to act all proud, because I didn’t do anything for it. It did it, itself.

And that’s the thing. I’m so bloody sick of people, looking at me, and commenting on my body. Often it comes from a genuinely surprised/complimentary place “how did you have a baby?” or “it looks like you never had one!”

I don’t know how to respond to these remarks, though kind, other than to smile and laugh. What do I say? Sometimes I say thanks, other times I mumble something, or direct it back to the person and say that they too look amazing after having kids – which is not a lie, I won’t say it unless I mean it.

But then there are this other lot, who comment on me being so skinny, to the point that they’re not being complimentary, not a bit, not a little, nothing at all – but instead their words come off jealous, biting, and snide.

They look you up and down and all they say is “you’re too skinny.”

Or as you walk to the lunch buffet they comment with a smirk “oh, you’re eating?”

And then when they say their goodbyes they tell you to “eat more” with a laugh.

These are people within my family.

Are you fucking for real????

(Deep breath, for my rebuttal).

Not that I have to explain, ANYTHING to ANYBODY, but:
– I am about the same size I was before pregnancy. No one was shitty about my weight then. Why are people all up in a huff now that I’ve had a baby? Am I meant to have handlebars and be overweight to be acceptable?
– I eat whatever I like. Some days I am truly rushed, but make no mistake I make up for it, every chance I get, especially on weekends.
– I like to wear fitted clothes, and I always have. This seems to be an affront to these vindictive people now. I wore baggy, trackie, homely clothes for about a year, and I remember the first time I put on make-up and got really dressed up which was about 7 weeks after baby girl was born, I felt re-born. Like a new woman.
I wore those baggy clothes for so long, there are some I’ve actually now thrown out. I want to move on, and go back to the way I always used to dress, because that’s me. I like to dress up, make myself up, as it makes me feel good. I do it for me, not for anybody else, and I shouldn’t have to feel bad or apologise for wanting to make myself look good and consequently feel good.
– Is it considered morally right to stare at a person you think is too fat and say to them “gee, you are too fat” “stop eating” and “what are you doing to yourself?” People wouldn’t dream of actually saying that to an overweight person, so why is it deemed ok if the person is skinny? No person’s body should be judged, even if that judgment is veiled in a pretend compliment ( ”she won’t get upset, I’m saying she’s skinny”)

I am absolutely sick to my core of these judgments. It’s really annoying, as it is hurtful. No one should be subjected to remarks like these, least of all women, who are already to susceptible to media and societal pressure to look a certain way, especially women who have had children. Your body goes through so many physical and other-worldly changes, that to then scrutinise that woman’s body after she’s put on weight for carrying a baby, to then losing it (or trying to) and feeling so many different emotions and feelings and thoughts of “how do I look?” “am I good enough?” “will my husband still find me attractive?” – women’s own private thoughts about themselves are well enough without the added inspection of people who think it is their duty to inform others if they’re adequately sized. The number of times I asked my husband what he thought of my body post-pregnancy I cannot even begin to count. I know I’m skinny. That’s my body type, I’ve always been that way. I never wanted to look unwell, or sick, which is why I’d ask “am I too skinny?” I was breastfeeding for over a year, and that equals your baby depleting your stores in many, many different ways. Hubbie would always say “no,” and he continues to. I know I already know the answer, but it’s annoying people who think it’s their right to pass judgment, that unfortunately, make me question myself.

But no more, mother fuckers. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself. Because your head is too big and your nose is too pointy.

Daisy on the stairs

October 7, 2014November 9, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Jack & Daisy
152b Cumberland Road Pascoe Vale

It was a grey day, unlike the glimmers of beautiful Spring we’d recently been privy to experiencing. I was running late, and was VERY hungry when I got to Jack & Daisy one Thursday LATE morning in September.

Melbourne weather can really put a dampener on your mood.

I waited outside the café for maybe five minutes, pulling silly faces at baby girl in pram, thinking my friend had not yet arrived, when in fact she was waiting in the back room the whole time. I hadn’t gone to venture inside because of the ‘step.’

You see, when one arrives with a pram, and sees a decent step up into an establishment, one does not feel confident. Back when I had gone into the bustling The Red Corner Store, even that place had been confronting, and that was due to the busy-ness of the Saturday morning rather than its front step, which was so minor compared to this one.

Upon learning of her already being in there (“how the hell did she get her pram in there?”) I backed into the store, and thank God a kind soul of a man sitting near the entrance with his kids held the door open for me as I hoisted baby girl in.

When I saw where the back room was, I had to brace myself: accessible, but only via more stairs. After manoeuvring amongst tables, more prams and high chairs, I pulled the pram up with some difficulty, quietly willing the little girl taking her time on the stairs to move the hell out of my way.

Then another little girl appeared, and I smiled sweetly at her, pretending patience, as the waitress coaxed her away and I wondered where in the hell her Mother was.

By the time I got to my friend and her baby girl, I was kind of puffed. The back room we were in was as expected, at the back of the restaurant, and I think the sole purpose of this room is for Mums and their Bubs, as there were plenty of high chairs about. Two long tables spanned the room, and my friend and I with our prams in one corner, easily took up the whole table with our gamut of baby food, accessories and bags. On the other table behind us there were also two women with their kids.

You can take it in one of two ways: either the room is designed to give Mums and Bubs their own space, and a little privacy away from the rest of the diners; or they’re keeping the demanding and space-clustering customers away, and I don’t mean the ones without kids.

Having said that, the Mums and their Bubs were everywhere. As I mentioned, I was practically climbing over prams and high chairs (and annoying kids that wouldn’t move) to get to the back room. If I didn’t know better I would have thought the café catered specially for this breed I’m now part of. Which is great. Kind of. I can kind of only handle my own, plus only three more, maximum, at any one time. So conflicted thoughts there.

I was pretty hungry by the time the food came. I haven’t been out to eat brekkie with baby girl in tow for a while, so I hadn’t realised how HARD it was going to be, with her now super-mobile and all. She was in the high chair, and I tried to entertain her by my giving her my mobile phone to chew on, as I tried to eat:

Daisy’s favourite poached free range eggs, smoked salmon, herbed fetta, avocado salsa & toasted multigrain

Now that’s the description taken from a photo someone posted on urbanspoon, but my meal came a little different. Firstly I had replaced the avocado salsa with mushrooms, because the last time I had avocado I actually thought I was going to vomit all my insides out (true story). I used to love avocado, but alas, avocado does no longer love me. Going by my photo, everything seemed to match the urbanspoon description bar the addition of the relish, which had a tangy sweet flavour to it. And weirdly, I still had green on my plate, so I’m assuming it WAS the avocado that they just forgot to omit. I didn’t try it, because of that whole fear of vomiting my insides. Hmmm. Chef probably should keep to the orders given, wouldn’t you say?

Even though I ate my brekkie over a 45 minute interval (or at least that’s how long it felt), the time taken to eat isn’t a determining factor in my review: what I’m trying to say is, if it’s yum, it’s yum, lukewarm or not. And if it’s weird, well it’s weird… fresh from the kitchen or siting at the table for 45 minutes.

It was like an ‘everything-on-a-plate’ thing. The poached eggs were perfect, and the bread they were on was amazing, but trying to cut it with my knife was almost impossible, despite the crunchy homely-style flavour they possessed. But then there was that green part of the bread I was unsure about that I had to cut out, which I’m just hoping against hope it was some fresh seedy bit that wasn’t toasted in the bread-baking process. I’m not sure. The mushrooms were good, the relish was nice, and the fetta was VERY citrusy – a bit too much for my liking, for cheese. I prefer my cheese creamy. I know that I ordered mushrooms, but even without them, I don’t know how citrusy fetta, avocado salsa and sweet relish goes together. I considered mashing the relish and fetta together, but decided against it because on their own the flavours were SOOO strong.

The smoked salmon was as expected, and perfect with the bread and eggs. Individually everything was good, some things were great; but together, I don’t think it worked.

Coffee came just after my meal. Again I had it a bit too late (the story of my life) but I still enjoyed it. It had a lot of lovely chocolate sprinkling on the froth which I love, and the way freaking cappuccinos should be you tight-arsed barristas elsewhere. My friend’s takeaway coffee came with the number ‘1’ on her cup when she asked for no sugar, and they happily replaced it with another. I know that may be easy to say and kind of expected (uh, pleasing the customer?) but seriously if I told you about my ‘glasshouse’ experience in Docklands when I felt I had to apologise for ordering a weak cappuccino – “is that ok?” – trust me, customer service isn’t HIGH on everyone’s list, as much as it seems a given to the person forking out the $.

Food: 6.5/10. Components were great individually… maybe I should have ordered something of a specific nature, rather than an ‘everything on your plate’ dish that the Daisy’s favourite meal suggests at.

Coffee: 8/10. Choc sprinkles to my liking, thank you.

Ambience: Cosy, relaxed, yet very constant for a grey Spring morning mid-week.

Staff: Attentive and friendly. They were all over us in the back room when we were getting the prams up, and then helping us bring them down over the stairs when we were all done. Which is what you’d expect since they seem to designate Mums in the back room, a back room albeit with stairs… you kind of expect that help, but still it’s very much appreciated when it comes and you don’t have to face the stairs alone.
Hey, here’s an idea… turn the stairs into a ramp. Back room is still accessible, and Mums don’t break into a sweat wondering how in the hell they’ll get in there if no staff are present to help.

Although it took a little while for our menus to arrive, once they were there our lovely waitress was all over it. Sugar wasn’t on our table when the coffee arrived, but fortunately our on-the-mark waitress was and promptly brought some over to me. And it was raw sugar, so I was extra pleased.

People: Mums and Bubs, Mums and Bubs….. um, Mums and Bubs. No, seriously, there was also Mums and Bubs there. And toddlers. Ok enough kidding, when we left I actually noticed there were less Ms & Bs, and quite a few groups of the non-young parent variety (shock horror!), as well as some business-looking folk. The unofficial Mums and Bubs session must have been ending… we were on our way out after all 😉

Price: Mine was $23, I think fair and reasonable for the locality, restaurant reputation and for what I got.

Advice: If you’re a Mum, with a Bub, going with a pram – book ahead, and by God make sure you’re not going into the back room. You don’t need that worry, please, trust me!

Just generally it might be worth booking, seeing as it was fairly busy when I went and it wasn’t even a peak time of day/week.

And get a meal that’s like, just eggs, or just pancakes, or just toast. Don’t get all complicated with your decision.

In a nutshell: I would like to try their other dishes, and try their cappuccino hot next time (my bad not theirs)… but only if it’s a sunny day.

Why you ask? So I don’t have to ‘step’ inside and deal with any stairs.

Her Anthem

September 30, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

They start off so well.

Well, maybe not ALL of them, the babies. Our baby girl did though.

Settling herself to sleep, and then sleeping through the night.

She still sleeps through, when the teeth aren’t hassling her… but for a few weeks now, she just won’t be left to fall asleep on her own.

Hubbie thought of the idea to just stand in her room and wait until she dozed off, and then quietly creep out. This is a great idea, because it saves me the back-breaking task of rocking her to sleep, which I never used to do at the end of the day. She may be petite, but she’s still 13 months old, and a growing toddler (though she’ll always be my baby girl).

As great as the idea sounds, and yes it is effective…. It is effective EVENTUALLY. Because of her game.

I think she’s not settling due to some developmental thing. She’s recently discovered that she can pull herself up into a standing position, and is crawling right all over the place. And when I put her in her cot for the night, she sits up, and then pulls herself up so she’s standing against the cot railing.

I stand there, side on to her, staring at the space above her cot, not making any eye contact.

She might make some noise, or laugh at me because she thinks we’re playing peek-a-boo, and I quietly pry her hands off the railing and lie her down, tuck her blanket around her again, and resume my wall-staring.

Again she stands, this time her teeth gnawing at the railing.

I wait a while, and then frustrated that this going-to-sleep thing isn’t progressing any faster, pull her off the railing and tuck her in again.

She starts playing with the bars of the cot. Out of the corner of my eye I see her stand up again – I ignore it. Her intention is play, but it’s too late in the day, and her tired legs give way and –

PLONK.

“I get knocked down.”

I try not to smile. She temporarily lies down, sucking her fingers. I think ‘good, she’s become discouraged.’

Within seconds she’s sat back up.

“But I get up again.”

Standing up again, leaning against the cot, chewing on the railing. “Ehh!” she yells out in protest. Play with me Mum! is what she means.

I sigh, promptly lie her down, tuck her in firmly, and say “Shhhh.”

That’s all the motivation she needs. After all she just broke me: I spoke.

In no time she’s at it again.

“You’re never gonna keep me down.”

I ignore her and stare at the wall, closing my eyes, wondering why she can’t fall asleep while I standing there think I may soon become a sleep-stander.

“I get knocked down.”

Over she falls once more, and she swings her legs from side to side. I hesitate – is she settling in?

“But I get up again.”

Nope.

“You’re never gonna keep me down.”

Tubthumping indeed.

Take a walk in my shoes, Baby

September 29, 2014September 29, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Today I’m tapping my fingers together in cheeky anticipation, Montgomery Burns of Simpsons-fame style:

Excellent.

While I’m at work, Hubbie has the entire week off, so he is doing the looking after baby girl duties.

Changing nappies.
Feeding.
Cleaning up.
Preparing meals.
Rocking to sleep.
Amusement and Play.
EVERYTHING.

🙂

My happiness is two-fold. One is attributed to the fact that I am so comfortable in the knowledge that she will be at home with her Dad, bonding with him, and because he is my Hubbie, of course as with many things he and I do things the same in our house, and I don’t have to worry about other people coming in to look after her and doing things different.

It’s a comfort thing.

The second has to do with the ‘let’s see how you do it’ approach. I am so fortunate to have a husband who is truly understanding and accepting of how hard it can be to get anything done during the day, even though at times I’m ‘just’ at home, all day. He won’t ask, but I find myself explaining why –

dinner is late/the house is a mess/I haven’t burnt the cds he’s wanted for 2 months/the laundry is drying all over the house 2 weeks after the fact

again and again and again. And the most common phrase out of my mouth is “be quiet, I don’t want her to wake up,” more common than your everyday usual “hi’s” and “bye’s”.

I am gaining so much satisfaction sitting here at work, wondering how he is tackling the looking after baby duties whilst getting everything else done.

Tee hee hee.

Just yesterday we had this convo:

Me: “You’ll have to do the grocery shopping tomorrow.”

Hubbie: “But I’m looking after baby girl.”

Me (with raised eyebrows): “so does that mean I don’t ever have to cook and clean when I look after her?”

(Another moment later on).

Me (breaking down baby girl’s schedule): “And then you feed her, and change her nappy…”

Hubbie: “So when do I do the shopping?”

Me (smiling with obvious glee): “in between changing her nappy and lunch. Everything you do has to work around HER.”

Excellent.

Despite my clear joy at Hubbie doing my usual job today, I am truly rapt with the arrangement, and I think to myself that this could really work: me working, while Hubbie looks after baby girl.

I don’t know if I’m looking forward to the end-of-day report from Hubbie (mischievous anticipation), his holiday vibe rubbing off on me (because who doesn’t love time off), whether it’s the recent re-introduction of alcohol into my life (last night’s red wine still in the system) or this morning’s coffee (coursing through my veins), but, all things considered, life is feeling pretty freaking good right now.

🙂 🙂 🙂

The Happiness Project says that one instance of happiness derives from the state of learning, discovery, growth. It’s the journey, not the destination, and boy are we on the journey of a lifetime right now.

This is life, and we’re living it.

Ahh. The over-analytical life of an aspiring writer.

Born Again

August 31, 2014September 7, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

There isn’t any religious theme or Christianity embedded within this post, despite the suggestion of the above title, however the element of re-birth is very strong, and quite appropriate given the subject matter.

Spring is coming. But no, that’s not all this post is about. I only realised it earlier tonight when Hubbie told me tomorrow was the first day of it, and I don’t know how I hadn’t realised it earlier; as much as August is such a festive and happy month, and it’s all anticipatory with excited thoughts of the warmer months ahead and all the opportunities for getting out and about and being out in the sun, I’m always so happy, enraptured in fact, when Winter finishes. I’ve been preoccupied with thoughts of returning to work and dealing with massive separation anxiety from precious baby girl, to even understand that today being August 31st meant the end of the cold season, ’til it was told to me.

We’ve had a pretty spectacular preview of it too. The last week has shown many beautiful, bright, still and sunny days, and it still amazes me just how much weather plays an integral role on my mood, even though every Winter I go “blah,” and then every Summer I go “yippee!”

But it’s more than that. This time last year I had a 2 week old baby. I was severely sleep-deprived, insecure, and in shock, the days stretching out before me like they were weeks, the nights dreaded and never-ending. Slowly, over those first few weeks, whenever I had a breakthrough “I get this!” moment or a parenthood ‘understanding,’ I grasped that glimmer of help, of hope, of happiness that suggested to me that things were going to get better, like everyone who had kids before me was assuring me, which I just couldn’t fathom in my zombie state. As down as I was at times, confused and indecisive about EVERYTHING, I was still that glass half-full gal, and I held onto all those moments where things were on the improve.

Little things. That’s all they were, but by God, they were the big things. Baby girl sleeping an extra hour. Not crying as long. Falling asleep without me trying. Finally breastfeeding! – now that was a task and a half. Bit by bit, things were on the rise, and the weather was getting better too.

The weather, as always, was something I was desperately holding onto. Even during difficult days, if the sun was shining outside it lifted my spirits, and a quick 15 minute walk around the block pushing baby girl in pram, significantly helped my mood. The weather is always – though I hate the dependence – something I rely on so much of the time, even when I’m not thinking about it, and in those early weeks and then months, it was getting warmer and getting easier, at the same time.

1 year later, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I am blessed beyond words, with the most clever, cheeky, curious and very cute baby girl. I look back at those dark days, now just a blurry distant nightmare, asking myself ‘was it that hard?’ I know that, yes, yes it was very hard. No one says parenthood is easy. But that’s what makes it so rewarding. I don’t understand how you can be in such a confused and frustrated state, so devoid of any happy emotion, and then you get that sleepy smile that newborns do, and it’s all ***heart melting*** And that’s it, you’re gone, you’ve succumbed to the power of this little human, and for the rest of your life when they smile, every inch of your heart and soul will smile with them.

The weather saved me, back in those days, many a time. You have a baby, and your whole life is turned upside down. It’s a completely different way of life, and though you are living through the warm months, enjoying them, your way of life is far removed from what it used to be, which at the time you are completely oblivious to. All I was thinking of was the little things and the little milestones that I was slowly accumulating as baby girl got older.

The good weather, reinforcing, telling me to keep going. ‘Things are gonna get better. See that milestone? Things are easier, they’re better.’

Constantly.

And it was only this last week or two, when we had an influx of happy Winter sun, that it hit me: I remembered. I remembered warm weather, and how it used to be.

It’s not like I forgot the warmth. It’s more that I forgot the things we used to do and the life we used to lead while it was warm. I was so focused on getting through, counting the good moments, counting the days, then the weeks: “she’s 14 weeks… 15 weeks… 16 weeks – 4 months!” that I let go of all memories of how our life was, before baby girl. I had to. Thinking too much of the past, looking back, was ineffective. Our lives had changed forever, and for the better. I couldn’t wait to be going out and doing things with baby girl. I counted down the days.

However there was that little part in me that remained, that every now and then reminded me of how things were the year before, thoughts that I pushed away because they wouldn’t do anyone any good. We didn’t regret, we were happy with our little family unit, but as is natural, you can’t help, as is the human nature of things, to ‘want it all.’

I’d forgotten, and ignored, for so long. And finally, just days ago, driving to baby girl’s 1 year maternal child health nurse appointment, looking at the fun hipster-shirt Hubbie had on as the afternoon sun shined down brightly on him, I remembered. And I went “wow.”

Now, as I preview, and look back at the huge, amazing, monumental year we’ve had, with so many changes, and happily now more ups than downs, I can say that I feel re-born. We’ve dealt with death, we’ve dealt with birth, and we’ve dealt with a whole range of emotions in between, every single one on the scale.

And now, things are getting easier. Breastfeeding will be a thing of the past in a few weeks. Baby girl is eating food, so, so well. She’s becoming more independent.

And the sun is out. It’s shining, it’s warm, and I’m thinking of all the things we used to do… and I can’t wait to introduce them to baby girl 🙂

I felt like I was in this little world of our own for so, so long. And now, we’re coming back. I’m back.

Watch out world.

Sick

August 10, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

I’m sure as pre-parents we’ve all done it; certainly, I know I have. You see your friend, or family member, and they’re telling you how their child is sick.

‘Ew,’ you think to yourself. Be careful with those germs. You wonder about all the snots, coughing and spluttering that is going on in their house, and then sure enough, your friend gets sick from their child.

‘Be more careful,’ you think. ‘Don’t catch your child’s germs.’

Huh.

Well, then comes the time when you have a child. And all of a sudden, your child gets sick.

My baby girl has been sick.

And what did I do? Did I ‘be careful’ not to catch those germs? Did I stay away from her?

Hell no. I cuddled her, kissed her, engulfed her as per usual, and every time snots flew out of her nose when she sneezed, or she coughed, or she whinged about being sick, I ran to her, not from her. I went “awww,” and tended to all her sickly woes. ‘I don’t care if I get sick,’ I said to myself. ‘I’d rather be sick, and take on those germs, then have her be sick.’

What a difference having a child of your own makes.

Then, you get sick. You think ‘Shit. I forgot how bad this can get.’

I am currently sick.

Every dog has their day

June 25, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Dogs and Days. This idea has been flitting around my mind the last couple of weeks. It provides me with hope for the future, yet reminds me that life has its ups and downs, and to be grateful for the wonderful things that come my way, while they are around.

An old clock my sister used to have said “Good times and bad times have one thing in common. They never last forever.” Quite appropriate being on a clock.

Having to be different, I look at the dog saying in another way – not just in terms of ‘your success will come,’ but the meaning for me personally, has always been ‘every one will get a bad day.’ I know it’s not meant to be interpreted that way, and is probably a rather odd interpretation for a glass half-full gal, but if you just think of the way people say it: it’s always a mellow “every dog has its day,” rather than a chirpy “Every Dog Has Its Day!!!” – complete with cartwheels and a full cheerleading routine.

It depends on which way you look at it. You could be dismayed by the thought of good times ending, or be relieved by the promise of a rainbow at the end of hardship. Having gone through a rather difficult year, which has, as it’s gone on become better and better, especially with the meeting of our baby girl, I have to say that the thought of each dog having their day actually makes me feel ok, and grounded.

As much as I’m loving Motherhood (really, it’s cliché but so true what they say: It’s the best, and you don’t know ’til you’ve done it), I see and hear my friends and family out enjoying their lives, being free from major responsibility, and just generally doing whatever the hell they want to do AT THE MOMENT THEY WANT TO DO IT. And I can’t help myself, but I think: ‘That’s ok. They will have their day.’

I’m not trying to be cruel. I don’t mean it in the way it probably comes out. In fact, I can’t wait for all my family and friends to be in the fortunate position we are in and know what a blessing it is to have a beautiful family you are so, so proud of. I’m so happy, I’m rapt. But I guess sometimes I feel like, ‘they don’t understand,’ and it’s probably what our own family and friends with kids wished for about US, before we had kids, and I see all the childless couples out there living it up, and I remind myself ‘we used to live it up,’ and then I say ‘we’ll live it up again’…

We will get our days too. The good doggy days I mean.

I think what really frustrates me, is that if I’m wanting something else, does that mean I’m not happy now? No. It just means as normal, that we want too much. I want too much. I want what I used to have, while still having what I have now. I don’t think I’m that unique, I think it’s the natural order of things to be thinking like this, especially for us Mums. We don’t get many breaks (every sense of the word) and we just wanna every now and then let our hairs down and out and get smashed on cheap wine because we haven’t had alcohol in over a year but then we still wanna come home and be watching our babies sleep before running off to barf up yellow and green bile in the toilet.

But it’s still annoying. Because, as society tells us, we should be content with what we have, and if we’re not, we’re bad.

You know what other discoveries I’ve made in Mumhood? You really do find out who your friends are. And family. I’ve learnt who really cares, and in the case of my cousins, who would drive across town to come see me and baby girl, time and time again… while that ‘close’ friend I thought I’d reconnect with, because she all loves kids and stuff? Well yeah. Just that.

But you know what I think about her? ‘She will have her day.’

I won’t be a bitch, as somewhat gratifying as it would be. When she has her day, I will be there for her. Not saying “I told you so.” Just being. Because I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt in the past.

I know that Hubbie and I have had a rather big year. A couple of huge ones in fact. And when you go through heavy shit, people tend to leave you alone, and give you space. But they don’t realise that after a little while, you want someone around, you want someone to reach out, and you want to know that someone cares and is thinking of you.

Same goes for having a baby. Apart from the never-ending 1-2 hour visits to meet baby girl, people then leave you alone. They think you need your space – and too right you do. But then they continue giving you that space, past the 2 month, 3 month, 4 month… 7 month marks. And you’re like ‘really? I do still have a life you know.’

And then you realise they don’t yet know. It still hurts a bit, but you realise they don’t know. And that’s ok, because one day they will. They will have their day too.