I’m really not coping
Feels as if I’m hardly floating
Quick someone
I need a roping
To pull me back to shore
Parenting
Feeling Guilty
I find it hard to relax when I have things to do, house work, feed the kiddlet, play with the kiddlet, more house work, paid job work. I feel guilty sitting down reading when there are things to be done and there is always ALWAYS things to be done. All I want for Christmas is a sleep-in and a relaxing day reading preferably by a nice pool – is that too much to ask?
Kiddlets
Kiddlets is a word I use instead of children, a cross between Kids and Piglets. Example – yeah Riley’s good, how are your kiddlets.
It’s always been a me sort of word but when I yelled out to my husband tonight ‘have you got everything’
as we where leaving to go out out he replied
‘everything but the kiddlet’
I laughed to myself, after being together for eight years the only word he has inherited from me is kiddlets.
He doesn’t use my ‘Pudding’ which I use for a variety of things or wombat, which I’ve been calling my son since I found out I was pregnant. Oh I could go on and on with my word substitutes. It’s kiddlets that’s crossed over, must be my most ‘normal’ substitute LOL Made me laugh.
Riley’s First Christmas
This Christmas will be my sons first and to celebrate I’ve put together a post in photos of us putting up our Christmas tree – there is a story behind this old hand me down tree, but I’ll get to that after the photos :-).
Hmmm what is it, can i eat it?
Dad where are you going with my new toy?
My son, Riley proceeded to giggle at me as I fluffed out the fake leaves and rearranged the branches. Riley and his father then just sat and watched me decorate the tree.
Hmmm what is it?
Can I have it?
Hmmm now what should I do with it?
Can I eat it?
Yep! gunna try and eat it!
First Christmas
(this is the ornament Riley tried to eat while I was trying to get a photo of him with it)
My tree & table decorations – while these are probably not as fancy as some of you have and I only decorate one room in my house, the dining room. When I lived at home we only decorated one room, the living room and this tree is the very tree that my grandmother and I would decorate every year with mostly the very same decorations. I’m about to turn 27 so the tree has to be at least twenty five years old (ish) and I love it, I look at it and I’m ten years old again, I look at it and I’m home. It still has a few of the same wooden ornaments I played with as a kid. I can remember going into Grace Brothers with my mother and buying a new angel for the top and I still use her today. About three years ago I inherited this tree and with it a box of old decorations from my mother.
Now back to the decorating ritual – as i remember it – on the first of December every year my Nanma (my maternal grandmother) would come over and we would decorate the tree, mum was doing who knows what at the time, but Nanma and I would decorate the tree and I loved it. I am not sure why or how it started, but i always looked forward to decorating this tree, and i know it was the doing it with my grandmother part that made it fun, cause it’s kinda stressful on your own. This year I did it myself with Riley watching on (OK my husband put the actual tree bit together for me), but I’m thinking next year I’m going to make my mother come over and decorate it with Riley while I go drink some wine and she and he can carry on the tradition.
I am very much looking forward to this Christmas and i hope i can instill in my son my love for Christmas, the real Christmas, being with family and friends and celebrating being together!
Today was a first: I took Ellie and Riley for a walk together
Today was a first: I took Ellie and Riley for a walk together.
Normally when I go for a walk it’s just my son and I and if my husband comes he brings the dogs. I can’t hold onto all three – 1. Riley in the Pram 2. Buster our big old boy 3. Ellie our younger female dog. Today, in light of Ellie’s boredom and recent destructive behavior, I decided to take her with my son and I on our regular walk.
Surely I thought, I can manage one dog and the pram.
Mission One; trying to get Ellie out of the yard without Buster coming – oh fudge knuckle why must these two follow each other everywhere, but at last success.
Mission Two; trying to give the old boy a treat to chew on while we’re gone because I feel guilty he can’t come, Ellie nearly eats my hand, but success and the correct dog ends up with it.
Mission Three; figure out how to walk without pulling the pram over, damn why must this dog keep switching sides, why can’t she pick one, I then decided I was going to try and force her to stay on my left, yeah right. SO we’re walking, we’re walking, it’s all good. I then started to notice she wasn’t being her normal boisterous self, walk past a gate and a dog barks at us, she hides behind me – umm Ellie Girl, where’s my Ellie you normally bark back. We’re walking, we’re walking, little white fluffy dog runs up to us, Ellie try’s to hide behind me, then lays down and cowers on the ground, ummm hello Ellie at home you regularly rough and tumble with a dog twice your size – oh then it dawns on me, Busters not here, she’s only tough when the big old boys with us, hahahahaha.
Damn it Ellie stop hiding behind me I’m not going to save you girl – Well that’s not true there was one occasion before I had my son when Ellie and I went out for an early morning walk and a dog came running out at us, I freaked out and lifted her as high in the air as I could, but that’s another story, and I never walked near there after that.
Mission four; trying to get a descent photo of Ellie and the pram while we were walking . . . . . got two that’ll do.
Come home, put Ellie back out the back and she’s all over Buster, acting like she hasn’t seen him in days lol funny dog, hope she remembers how happy she was to see him when their competing for prime sleeping positions tonight.
So In conclusion I did manage one dog and the pram and I know if I keep doing it she’ll get used to it and it’ll get easier.
Going for a walk
I went for a walk today along the water near where I live for the first time since I started back at work part time.
It had been three weeks and when I’m not walking regularly I forget how much I enjoy it and how good I feel afterwards. It’s rather shocking how much tension we can build up in our systems and I always find a brisk walk helps to ease it – Vodka and Chocolate would work also, but I think the walks a healthier and less hangover inducing option.
In the four months I got to stay at home with my son we’d daily enjoy going for a walk then coming home, having a bath, then a nap. So today was nice, just my son and I doing our thing. It’s amazing how a simple thing like going out into the fresh air and sunshine for a walk can make everything better.
Velociraptors & Babies
I am convinced I do not have a baby boy; I in fact have a little velociraptor.
Remember Velociraptors the freakishly intelligent dinosaurs in Jurassic park, really good at tracking their pray, opening doors and what not.
I came to the conclusion the other day when he was sitting on my lap that he in fact was not a baby boy but a little velociraptor; he was sitting in my lap holding his arms up like the dinosaurs do in the movie and giving me one of his death stares. While staring into my eyes he giggled and with the speed of a striking snake grabbed my thumb, shoved it in his mouth, bit down as hard as he could and then giggled again.
My clever little velociraptor tracks me with his eyes no matter where I go, chews on whatever body part he can get to, my neck, arm, leg, hands, fingers, nose, chin etc. etc.
He just stares at me, with these awesome murderous looks, I always wonder what is going on in his head, I often imagine he is planning my murder and how he intends to cook me.
When he stares into my eyes and stares me down, it often scares me as I wonder if he can read my soul.
Oh how I love him So!!!!!!!!!!
Warning Body Wash & Baby
I have very sensitive skin and so have been playing it safe and just assuming my son also will have sensitive skin.
QV is one of the very few products that does not irritate my skin, so it’s all I’ve used on my son.
Recently I purchased a bottle of goats milk body wash as it was half the price of the QV and on the bottle states its ideal for sensitive skin. I’ve been using it in the shower to see if it affects my skin before I use it on my son, I’ve been using it for about two weeks now and I haven’t gotten any rashes or burns and my skins been ouch free – BUT yesterday I got some in my eye, it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever gotten in my eye, I liken it to the time I got a flying amber from a camp fire in my eye. It took a couple of hours before it stopped stinging. Thank god I hadn’t used it on my son first – it hurt my adult eye so much, imagine a little babies eye coping with it, makes my stomach churn. So only water and QV for my little prince (I’ve had it in my eyes and its fine).
So I’m just going to put it out there people if you buy a body wash or bubble bath for your kids, use it first and put some in your eye to be sure – lovely safe looking bottles can be deceiving.
I Love you anyway Luigi
During the lead up to my son’s birth I was trying to put together a family tree book for him and what followed was destroying my father’s belief that he had Italian heritage, sorry daddy.
My father picked up the name Luigi in his younger days because he looked like a wog. He was rather proud of this and so was I. I love Italian culture and thought it rather nice to have some Italian heritage.
Now my father is a short, active, quiet (unless under the influence of rum or red wine) and rather fit young looking 55 year old. It is really only in the last five years that he started to show his age and get some grey hair etc. When people used to pick on him saying he dyed his hair, he always used the line that it was his Italian blood. Now his vitality IS definitely in his blood, his mother now 85 is still globetrotting and in my memory has only had the one grey patch of hair nearly my entire life and no neither of them have ever dyed their hair. If I’m lucky I’ll be the same.
Now I had always been told by my father that his grandfather was Italian, so when doing my sons family tree I dug deeper. I sat down and asked my father where he got the idea his grandfather was Italian from and he told me a story which is what he believed to be true; that his Grandmother had got up to some mischief with a sexy Italian and thus his mother was born. The sexy Italian then got shipped back to Italy for shaming his family etc. etc. A lovely and touching story, I mean who wouldn’t want to have a fling with a sexy Italian. Now my dad’s story says that the Italians had a store and his grandmother worked there, nope no they didn’t no Italians had a store anywhere near, there is no record of Italians in the town in which his mother came from, on record there’s only French entrepreneurs, Englishmen and aborigines before the time of his mother’s birth.
Now the story of his Grandmother falling madly in love with a sexy dark grease ball and conceiving a child, then the sexy stud being forced to leave his beloved and return home never to see her again is wonderful stuff, someone spat him a rather good yarn as a kid and he soaked it up. I still wonder who told him that story, maybe he asked his grandmother one day why he didn’t have a grandfather and maybe it was his grandmother being cheeky that told him the story – he is rather vague in the memory department as to where he picked up the story from. I quizzed one of his sisters and she’d never heard it before but thought it was rather amusing.
My father is one of my favourite people on earth and I love him to bits. I didn’t want to break his heart and tell him after digging I had found out whom his grandfather really was and that he was plain and had no awesome wog-ness.
Now knowing the truth I’d just go with that back in 1928 my Great Grandmother wanted a baby, so she had herself one and that baby, MY grandmother, grew up to be one of the most amazing women I know.
Actually all the women in my dad’s family are kick arse independent awesome awesome beautiful powerful women. I grew up as a little girl with extremely strong females in my life on both my mother’s and father’s sides. Both of my grandmothers are amazing inspiring powerful women with amazing strength. Now this did instil in me that I can do anything (which is good) but that I don’t need anything from anybody and that no one needs to help me (not so good and gets me into strife from time to time) but never the less GIRL POWER – wait this went from being about my dad to girl power, hmmm well I don’t think he’d mind.
Remember to smile people, it makes you live longer!!!!
Post Ahoy
Sooooooo my mummy told me I had a couple of spelling mistakes in my last blog (I’m sure there’ll be mistakes in this one also, hmmmm, maybe I should send it to her to read first LOL she’s always been my editor and dictionary.
So my darling son has found a new love, pulling my hair and grabbing my glasses. The only hair pulling he used to do was his daddy’s chest hair and that was fine by me – but no Riley has come to the realisation that mummy’s hair is just as fun to play with and trying to pull her glasses off her face is a super fun game LOL.
The other day as my son was Crying and my husband was trying to soothing him, I found myself saying shhhhh under my breath and patting my leg, hmmmmm. I’ve noticed I do this before, someone else will be holding my son and if he starts to carry on I pat my leg involuntarily as I would pat his back if I was holding him – oh dear what has happened to me LOL.
I was delighted recently to find a whole world of people that use the word Blurb. I’ve used this word for a long as I can remember (hey can you write me a blurb on . . .) but on numerous occasions I’ve had to explain to people what the word meant. I had started to think that the word ‘Blurb’ was one of these words I’d picked up from spending five days a week with my grandfather for the past last ten years. I had assumed it was an old fashioned word, as it was always people my age or younger I’d find myself explaining his words to. The same goes for my Nanma (Grandmother) whenever I call myself a ‘silly git’ I laugh and think of her.
I’ve been thinking about going and doing Open Foundation at the Uni, been thinking about it for a couple of years, part time open foundation is approx 20 hours a week (6 on campus for lectures and tutorials at night) bub would be about eight months & I’d possibly be back at work full time hmmmmm, damn it should have done it before, the older my son gets the more of my time he’ll need. Oh Craptacular am I ever going to figure out just what to flipping do with my life. Never the less I’m going to go to the information session on the 10th of December and argue with myself and my husband about only returning to work part time.
I was tiding up my hard drive when I came across a story I had written back in 2005 for a few friends of mine and the spelling was so awful it was funny (but nearly unreadable), I had there for everything, no their or they’re and were was all around. The story isn’t every well written, it was only meant to be a joke between friends, but I fixed up the obvious spelling mistakes and re-saved the file (let’s hope in another eight years I’ll be that appalled that I delete the file lol).
When I left high school in 2002 just finishing year 10, I couldn’t spell to save my life, so it wasn’t a really surprise that the story was so bad. It wasn’t until I left school and got out into the big bad world that I found books and really began to write. I had started writing poetry back when I was fifteen (in year ten) but it’s was very bad and goes on about boys a lot, gives me shivers to read it. I destroyed most of it the other day and just kept a few poems from those days that mean something to me. I had kept all my poetry from then until now, but most of it before 2006 was total rubbish. Here I’m going to give a shout out to my high school drama teacher Mrs Island who encouraged the angry loud mothered fifteen year old Sarah to try reading. I had read as a child, school forced you to read LOL, but seriously some of my fondest child hood memories are of reading with my mum and my Nanma (grandmother) but somewhere in the self-absorbed ‘oh look at them boys’ teenage years I’d forgotten that love. So one day I’m having a conversation with Mrs Island about Wuthering heights (no idea how it started) and she said to me “If you could read that book, I’d be proud” so I did (she had spent the last four years trying to teach me and knew what a proper little beast I could be). So I read it, damn it was hard to read for a fifteen year old of my abilities, but I did and it’s always stuck with me – stuck with me as in I’d found my love of reading again (which has no doubt improved my writing and spelling), but also the book has stuck with me because of the freaky nasty f*#King characters and their freaky mean ways, yeah and there was the undying love part – I’ve never read it again, I still have a copy of and might read it again one day.
I really am still a very bad speller and writer, but at least I have improved, YAY me.
Damn did any of that make sense?
Oh oh oh so I tweeted Miguel Maestre about how I love him (on the living room TV) & his recipes lol and he re-tweeted it, made me smile, cause he must of actually read it to bother re-tweeting it lol I find him kinda adorable – wish he’s come cook for me 😛
Remember to smile people, it makes you live longer!!!!
RIOT’S REDEMPTION 