NappyDaze

All part of the plan? Or is free will guiding your way?

2012-02-13T17:39:00.000+11:00

Are you of the belief that free will rules our lives, or that everything that happens is simply “all part of the plan”?

You may, quite rightly, wonder why on earth I’ve decided to be so deep (and on a Monday, of all days, when let’s be honest, we are all just trying to get through the first official work day of the week!) But I ask as I was told by a world renowned psychic to watch the movie “The Adjustment Bureau” and that when I did, it would all become clear to me.

And suddenly, strike me down with a lightning bolt, I.Could.See.

For many years I have consoled myself with the knowledge that while I have not lived up to my own (probably very lofty) expectations of success, it all boils down to a decision I made almost 15 years ago which changed the trajectory of my world.

A choice still has had the power to haunt me. Until now.

Straight out of high school, and at tender age of 17 I left all that I held dear to me and enrolled in a University based four hours from home. This was even though I missed out by .09 of a mark in doing the course I so desperately wanted to do but felt pressured to enrol in something. My heart was not in it for many reasons – the course I’d be doing didn’t appeal, I was oh so homesick, not knowing a soul in my new home town, and as well, I’d recently started dating a someone who was now destined to be only a long distance relationship. I was smart enough to know the love wouldn’t last the (literal) distance (he told me as much eventually) but not wise enough to know that it wouldn’t also stretch the figurative distance, after eventually dropping out to be by his side. Because at 18 you know everything, right?

And over the years that have spanned since that defining life choice, there have certainly been times I’ve berated myself, wondering what would have become of me if I’d stayed put in University, as I'd planned.

Perhaps I’d have gone on to be a success in the industry I coveted. But the what if’s can kill you if you let them… Or you can come to look at them in another light and see what you have GAINED from that judgement made in your tempestuous youth. If I’d not ~~wasted~~ spent 4 years with that man, I’d never have met Adam, who in turn gave me the gift of my husband. Part of the plan? In the end I’d like to think so.

I always consoled myself with the knowledge if I had to choose between the two options I’d rather have my husband’s beautiful presence (and ergo, my son) in my life than all the trappings of writing success I'd envisaged. And besides, it’s by no means been a wasted life; I’ve travelled, seen some of the world’s most amazing sights, made some wonderful friends, worked in a rewarding industry which has given me great opportunities as well. And I'll say it again, I'd never trade what I have found with my husband for anything else.

Now though, after watching The Adjustment Bureau I’ve decided that much like the ending of the movie (spoiler alert!) I am of the opinion that there CAN be a good sprinkling of both free will and a plan in your world that is open to amendments. And that YOU are ultimately responsible for deciding it all.

I’ll admit I am guilty of coasting along at times, living by the platitude “if its meant to be, it will be” but in reality, that alone can mean not taking full responsibility for making the decisions that shape our worlds.

What this movie has shown me is that if you truly covet something, if you chase it like your life depends on it (literally, in the case of this script!) then your plan will shift to accommodate it.

So, I can no longer comfort myself with the excuse that my missed career opportunities equals happiness in my personal sphere. If I want something so very badly, if I pursue it, desire it, hunger for it, it IS possible to have all that I yearn for in my private life and all that I aspire to in my working world.

I'm not scared anymore. I've gained the clarity I so badly needed. There will be no more what if's, they will be replaced by actions in my plan. And adjustments. If I so choose...

I’m curious to know what your opinions are on this (no doubt) divisive subject – can free will rule our worlds? Are we all just operating to an unchangeable grand plan? Or perhaps its possible to exist with both…

Write on Wednesday - Collections (of memories)

2012-02-09T15:13:00.000+11:00

Image credit

Seems I am again a day late to posting this week's Write on Wednesday activity; but time waits for no woman when her to-do list this week has been as long as mine!

Nonetheless, I am again participating, and offering up a little piece relating to this week's prompt on "collections"

Write about a collection. Write about something you or ,someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction
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She collected memories like other people collected stamps. Every little recollection of her life so far, stacked neatly in the tissue papered recesses of her mind was easily accessible at any moment.

At times, it could bring joy; the beautiful, bursting delight that relishing in a memory of pure pleasure brings. It could be called upon automatically, and spirit her back to that buoyant feeling in an instant. A smell, a song, a scene… Any of these triggers could set it off. Who wouldn’t want to relive their wedding day, the first smile that played of their small child, or what it was like to travel to some of the most amazing countries in the world.

But what about the more mundane memories?

Even a simple date on the calendar would be enough to set the hands of memory in motion. “This day last year I was recovering from that tummy bug”; “It was this day 3 years ago I bought those shoes that were on sale…got my nails painted pink… watched the Oprah episode about…”

You get the picture. It was like living with a movie reel constantly replaying snippets of her life in her mind’s eye…

Of course it should be no surprise then that this collection was both a blessing and a curse…

The flipside? It was a veritable Pandora ’s Box; when opened it was also bound to bring with it bad blood.

A dark and depressing remembrance could send her spiralling back to the depths of despair in lighting fast speed. That old hurt from a decade before could be as real and as raw as if it were inflicted yesterday. The first bitter taste of heartbreak, the day her cherished friend was taken from this earth, far too soon, the searing agony of childbirth… There they sat, as easily accessible as a library book propped up on the shelf, and able to be permanently plucked from obscurity and into reality without a moment’s hesitation.

But even when she weighed up having to deal with the hard to endure again emotions, it was worth it. Because, much like picking a pretty flower from the earth, being able to relive the warm, magical moments was like receiving a second chance to bask its glow once more.

Collecting these memories wasn’t a conscious choice; it was an act that appeared to happen unawares. She couldn’t even articulate how or why it began; only that it had just always been so…

Quite simply, she couldn’t remember a time she couldn’t remember.

Joining the "Fresh Horses" Handwriting Brigade!

2012-02-05T14:23:00.000+11:00

The gorgeous uber blogger Eden Riley has invited the blogosphere to show off your own style of handwriting - as warriors of the keyboard we often are known by our tone and "voice", but never our old fashioned writing style. And as one who adores this traditional medium, I was super excited to get in on the action and document my two distinct versions of writing.

And like I (literally) wrote above, I CANNOT wait to indulge in more of this vintage, old school activity more in 2012!

Check out more examples by clicking on Eden's "Fresh Horses" link up here

Don’t forget about family videos...

2012-02-03T15:40:00.000+11:00

Image credit

As a parent, we feel the natural urge to document our children’s growth. As they bloom before our eyes, we want to capture each moment as they transition through infancy, childhood, adolescence and their teenage years.

But despite technology only making it easier to make, record and edit videos, are family videos becoming a dying art? Gone are the days when the school swimming carnival was a sea of parents with camcorders glued to their eyes.

Perhaps it’s because we can take snippets of film on our smartphones, or document most things with digital cameras - filming has become more discreet. But if you need some encouragement to whip out your camcorder, here are a few good reasons not to forget about family videos:

Memories

There’s nothing like revisiting old memories. Whether they are birthdays, Christmases, family holidays or your kids playing dress ups, family videos are a great way to take a step back in time and relive past moments. And, often there’s nothing more hilarious than seeing the hairstyles and clothes that you once thought looked good. There are sure to be a few shrieks of “What was I thinking!”

Keep your lil’uns entertained

Once your children are old enough to operate the camera themselves, they also make for a great form of entertainment. Hours can be passed coming up with storylines, scripts and costumes for their very own TV shows or mini movie (which of course you will be required to watch!).

Great for future birthdays and speeches

Family videos can be a goldmine when later down the track you might be writing birthday or wedding speeches. They can jog your memory of funny things your children did, or special moments you want to share with others.

So if you don’t have a camcorder or video camera to capture all of your family’s special and funny moments, make sure you add it to your list! If you don’t want to shoulder the cost outright, you can rent a camcorder and other equipment, which spreads the cost of using a camcorder over a longer period of time. And, if you’ve got a few technical skills, you can even use laptop rental to get the computing equipment you need to edit your material.

And one day, when your children have flown the coop and you and your partner are empty nesters, you can re-watch the family videos and reminisce about the times when the house was chaotic, the children were young and see how the passing of time changes us all!

“This guest post is brought to you by Rentsmart

Write on Wednesdays - Nature

2012-02-01T17:25:00.000+11:00

Its time for me to join in with the wonderful Write on Wednesday (WoW) linky; this week's spark being Nature.

"Think about a place in nature that feels special to you. Perhaps it is somewhere you visited as a child. Or maybe you share a special outdoor space with your own children. This place, this space will be your prompt for this week's writing exercise. Write about a particular natural geography, a natural place or space close to your heart. Tell us about the weather, the landform , the creatures who live there, what the place means to you and why. You can write prose fiction, poetry, non-fiction and/or a photographic narrative. You might mix the landscape with a personal story. Wherever the prompt take you...Let us peek into your place."
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It’s the same old scenario of unappreciated love heard the world over – you don’t know how much you cherish something until it’s taken away. Hence I never knew how much I needed the ocean until I moved (15,000kms!) away.

For the first 21 years of my life I lived in a beautiful, coastal town. Growing up, the beach was about a 7 minute drive away. And when I first moved out of home, at age 19, the sea was literally at the end of my (long) street.

Moving to London in 2001, besides many other massive life realisations, brought to my attention how much I missed the sweet, salty ocean, the vast expanses of golden sand, and the crystal clear view of a cobalt blue horizon.

It was 3 months until I was reunited with my long lost watery love and I still recall the day vividly. As we rounded a precarious hair pin bend, suddenly we were greeted with the breathtaking view that was the coastline of the French Rivieria. I let out an audible sigh of relief. My world seemed to level out to its correct axis when I knew there was water near by. And it was in that moment I realised I hadnt known just how much I missed it.

Sure, on the (rare) summery London day I lamented the fact there was no near the sea, not to mention I couldn't grasp the fact that people would traipse to a public park to strip off, settle back in their stripy green and white sun lounges and sun-bake… But it wasn't until that instance above, that I knew I needed the ocean in my life. It was almost akin to feeling quite claustrophobic without it close-by!

And even though I swam along the picturesque Amalfi coast and over on nearby Isle of Capri; I sunned myself in the world's most well known stretches of coastline, where the famous frolic, and the powerful people play on the French Riviera, I’ve cooled off on Greek Islands such as Crete, Santorini and Ios, on the Sicilian island Lipari, as well as the Mafia country itself, none have ever had the same pull as the beaches I had left behind in Oz.

It's almost hard to articulate what it is that draws me to my hometown coastline over any other place in the world; only that when I step foot on it I feel a rush of something pure. I don’t even need to go into the water, I am content to simply sit, stare, contemplate, muse, for hours. Its my happy place. It brings inspiration, peace and, at times, comfort.

I watch the sunlight twinkle on the sea, dancing like a bejewelled ballerina; I witness the majesty of nature with her perfectly formed, foamy waves, and I see a coastline untainted by any imposing over development. It stretches on, as if arms open wide, welcoming me into its fold. And I am home.

Fighting the Festive Flab

2012-01-29T14:50:00.000+11:00

(Warning… I have my whingey whiney pants on for this post)

Image from here

The holiday season has come and come and left with it a few extra (and extremely unwanted) kilos that I am clueless to know how to lose. And before anyone starts bagging me for only wanting to shed 4 or 5 kilos, please note I AM FIVE FEET TALL. That means there aint much space for the excess weight to spread to. Flab at this height is very unforgiving – there is basically nowhere for it to hide…. So in my humble opinion surely that means it equates to the average heighted person’s desire to lose 10 -12 kgs?

While I know the theory behind shedding these unwanted kilos – eat a sensible diet, exercise like crazy –putting that into practice is a whole other realm for me.

Here are the factors I am up against:

Cooking – I am no Masterchef that is for sure. Add in the fact cooking the main meal coincides with Master H’s bath time and the fact I am usually juggling both solo, I don’t seem to have the time to concentrate on cooking anything other than the tried and tested meals we usually eat. Throw in the fact I have a fussy son who sees it as his right to complain about everything I dish up makes me even more weary to branch out.
Time – my gym currently does not have a crèche so I squeeze in workouts around daycare days. Any other days I’d like to exercise means I am at the mercy of my son’s mood. Once upon a time I could put him in the pram and walk places but he isnt the least bit interested in being ferried about anymore. Walking with him is fine, but at snail’s pace it aint exactly calorie burning stuff…
Exercise – I am to exercise what Kim Kardashian is to wedding vows; an unhappy union with a fast approaching expiry date. That being said I am smart enough to understand the benefits; however that doesn’t make me enjoy it any more. Getting sweaty is not something I relish and as soon as I feel that lactic acid I am all “abandon ship”! Yes, I know “no pain, no gain” but in the heat of the moment I am looking for the nearest exit. I can rack up a good hour in the gym but the maximum cardio I can handle is about 35 minutes. Probably not enough to burn the extra blocks of chocolate I so eagerly consumed over Christmas…
Diet - I’ve never really dieted so I don’t know how to deprive myself of my favourite things. And yes, I know this isn’t the key (all is ok in moderation I’m told) but what about if you lack the willpower to last the distance? It doesn’t help when you unconsciously graze like I do for no good reason (comfort and boredom are the main repeat offenders). Not to mention all the good stuff tastes bad and all the bad stuff tastes good. Sigh…

That being said, I am certainly hoping to try and win with war with the excess weight somehow. While I can’t imagine living happily in a world without chocolate I am trying to limit myself. I wont indulge as readily as I did over the festive season but I will make some other sacrifices.

So long alcohol, it was fun while it lasted... The empty calories are something I can live without over losing chocolate from my world. I’ll aim to steer clear of takeaways (though we don’t indulge in them often in any case) but no, I will not give up my lunch time Diet Coke. I don’t drink coffee, and as my son is so fond of starting the day at 5.30am it’s basically medicinal! (There is a real fear I will morph into an unfit mother without it).

I’ll try to remind myself that food is fuel and nothing more, and to drink water instead of aimlessly snacking. Guess it comes down to how badly I want to return to my normal transmission.

So if you have any weight loss, diet or exercise enjoyment tips for this antithesis of a gym junkie and good food guru please, now is the time to impart them! My stomach will no doubt eventually thank you – and me!

“I didn’t die; I’m just frozen in time” - WoW week 2

2012-01-26T16:53:00.004+11:00

Its time for Write on Wednesday (even if yes, it is technically Thursday, twas a bit busy yesterday!...) and the spark this week is the below:

Pay attention to the conversations around you: at the dinner table, in the supermarket, while DVD Returning, wherever. You are looking for one line, one tiny sentence of dialogue. chatter. Write down your line. Use it to inspire your Write on Wednesday post.

My trigger came to me in a dream I had on Tuesday night. It was the line “I didn’t die, I am just frozen in time,” that struck me. Below I have weaved it into a fantasy to fit around this writing trigger (that I hope isnt too long - sorry!).

Image from here

Gleaming white walls greeted her as she stepped gingerly into the lab. It was the stark chill in the air that first took her breath away; that was, until she saw him…

Lying prostrate, in a sealed glass cabinet that stretched the entire left wall of the sterile room, was the man she loved so many years ago.

Choking back a sob, she swept across the tiles as if taking flight, before coming to rest by his side. Tentatively, she raised her hand, hovering it above his enclosure, suddenly unsure what to do next.

“Perhaps you’d like to touch the real thing?” asked the grey haired man with the kindly smile, who appeared at her side. She turned to him, eyes incredulous, asking without speaking, if this could actually be possible?

Ushering her into the next room, she unfurled from her hunched stature, with the heat now seeping back into her bones. And there, basking in the brown hued warmth of his surroundings was her first, and long lost love.

Lounging on a tan recliner, his face lit up with the smile that had waited to be unleashed for a decade. Arms wide, he beckoned her forward.

With a slight, shocked shake of the head she leapt towards him, and lost herself in an oh so familiar embrace.

“How… When…” she stuttered, unable to articulate the right words for such a surreal situation.

“I always was one for the unusual,” he offered with an embarrassed shrug of his shoulders, while inhaling the heady scent of her skin. “They rescued me after the curtains closed”.

He smiled at her then; it was the grin she thought she would never feel on her face again…

“How did I not know until now?”

“My mind’s eye has always followed you, even in the state you just saw me in, in the lab room. But I was told to leave you be. How would you have moved on if you had known?” He kept stroking her arm, as she sat, encircled in his embrace, trying to put the pieces together of this most perplexing puzzle.

“I can’t live a normal life. I only appear out of my sleeping shell for a very small amount of time each day. And there is no possible way for me to survive outside of this room, without any technology." he explained.

“So… are you alive or dead?” she asked meekly, unsure if she even wanted to hear the answer.

“I didn’t die, I am just frozen in time,” he explained gently, stroking her skin. Suddenly, his eyes began to glisten with tears. "The experiment is almost complete and I have to let go... This is their gift back to me, a chance to say a proper, and final, farewell." she went to protest but he silenced her with a kiss. "Don't ever think of me as dead, just frozen in another place and in another time."

Moments later she began to feel him fade from her grasp. And instead of mourning once more for the man she loved so many years before she felt herself fill with gratitude for that one last chance to feel the warmth of his skin and his eyes on hers; an image that she would eternally keep frozen in time.

To Tweet or not to Tweet, that is the Question…

2012-01-23T20:12:00.000+11:00

Image from here

I’m all in a twitter over Twitter. Sometimes I just don’t know if the blue bird is really beneficial or just one big time suck.

Perhaps it boils down to the fact I’m still not sure how to use this medium to its best advantage. Or perhaps it is possible to be too shy even in the realm of social media!

I first aired my hesitations about it at the 2011 Aussie Blogger Conference. In front of the crowd I stood and asked the expert panel if there was any sort of online etiquette when it came to Twitter. It just felt so foreign, so fast paced, so brutally open and well, at times, downright rude. Intruding on other people’s conversations felt completely impolite and so for a long time I basically lurked, willing only to interact with those who’d first interacted previously with me (schoolyard revisited, anyone?)

Even now, with a year of practice under my belt, logging into the Twitterverse can be like walking into a room where everyone already knows each other and you are but a lone wallflower, looking for a way in. You spurt out a few short, sharp sentences, and hope to God that someone decides to throw a conversation lifeline your way. Otherwise you are basically left looking like the loony who is holding a not so riveting conversation for one.

Or you feel like one giant eavesdropper, willing to listen in on the conversations whizzing by you, but unwilling to participate. And that feels equally as ill-mannered!

But, I have experienced the blessings of Twitter too – without it I’d not have won the Sealy Sleeping on the Job competition, or got to make a dream come true and meet the divine Deb Webber. Best of all, it can also help you connect when you might just need it most (even if from a veritable stranger!). Sometimes just putting a little plea out there into the big black hole of cyber space can reap rewards. Suddenly you are not the only one who has a feral anti sleeping child, who refuses without hesitation to clean his goddamn teeth... Or the times, when you are home alone, and it’s too late to phone anyone, and you just feel the need for a bit of social interaction. Twitter is an insomniac’s paradise!

The fact it brings the rich and famous into a much more accessible hemisphere is also a plus. I do enjoy being nosy and having such celebrity interaction at my fingertips. Being retweeted by the good people at Oprah ranks right up there with one of my highlights of 2011 (don’t judge – she is my Everest of celebrity crushes!).

Or it can bring down the big guns who were once upon a time untouchable (yes, Vile Kyle, that means you) and keep businesses accountable for their slips in customer service towards your husband (hi Virgin Mobile!)

What it comes down to is the realisation Twitter is a necessary evil of sorts. If you blog, there is a self-imposed pressure to maintain a presence. To best spread the word, build your brand, engage, interact, you need to use the blue bird. Some Masters of The Twitterverse make it look effortless, but I struggle to sound witty in 140 characters or less. And I do loathe the random rudeness I’ve seen unleashed (not to mention the mundane). On the flip side, there are some genuinely awesome tweeters whom I love to engage with (hi Jenn!) and closing the gap between we mere mortals and the celebs of the world is a kinda cool thing to see played out.

For now, as long as I blog, I will tweet. So if you have any tips to make twittering an altogether more manageable pursuit, or your go to guide for online etiquette, feel free to espouse them here! I am all ears and eager to embrace the power of the big blue bird.

Operation "Wipe Your Own Bum" has begun - plus Kleenex Cottonelle giveaway!

2012-01-19T12:07:00.000+11:00

I’m about to commit the ultimate mummy blogger sin and stereotype than many have fought to banish from this blogging genre and talk about toilet training. Or to be precise, that after almost 3.5 years, and a solid 6 months of rather successful toilet training it’s about time Master H started to learn the art of wiping his own bum.

What a blessing then that the good people at Kleenex have come to the ~~poo~~ party and offered me the chance to trial their fabulous Cottonelle flushable kids wipes!

Now, my son does not always readily take well to change. So when it was announced that we’d be learning this most essential life skill, I wasn’t met with much enthusiasm on his part. And the home truth that he surely didn’t want his own mum still wiping his bum when he was in his teens was of course lost on him at his 3 and a half years of age…

But upon showing him the cute Kleenex Cottonelle pop up tub (complete with also adorable puppy on it!) and how easy the wipes were for his chubby little fingers to access, we began to make a little progress.

Made from Aloe Vera (and containing no alcohol for that still so sensitive skin of theirs!) the wipes are the perfect size for them to grasp and begin to learn. It helps to foster their independence and are super safe to flush after use.

Then there is also the cost effective factor to consider. Children seem to have no concept of how much toilet paper is appropriate to use (and let’s not forget the whole scrunch or fold debate but I dare not open that can of worms yet!) so you either find them tearing off one piddly square to clean up with – or the other extreme where only half a full roll of loo paper will suffice!

And is it just me or has anyone else found how bloody versatile wipes can be? Forget other cleaning products – these babies do everything from get stains out of my carpet and clothes to disinfecting one of my son's beloved toy that fell down the toilet bowl yesterday (true story and one I am remiss to discuss further for fear of flashbacks…)

Right now we are navigating the road-testing of this new skill by taking it in turns (one wipe from him, one from me) but the gradual exposure seems to be working. Or let’s put it this way – there have been no foot stamping tantrums of refusal to use them so I’ll take that as a green light we are good to keep going!

Kleenex have also kindly offered one lucky reader (in Aust. only sorry!) the chance to teach their toddler the all-important art of bottom wiping. Please leave me a comment below with your best bum-wiping- toilet-training tip for the chance to win two tubs of Kleenex Cottonelle flushable wipes, a super cute plush Kleenex puppy and the all-important refill packs (4 in total!).

If you would like to spread the word via Twitter, be sure to include my @NappyDaze handle and come back and leave me an extra comment.

Competition closes Saturday 28th Jan, 2012 at 9am and will be drawn via random.org

Please note my all opinions expressed are my own. I was not paid for this review but did receive a generous supply of wipes to road test. My thanks to the kind people at Kleenex Mums

"Write On Wednesdays" - time to kickstart the creative juices

2012-01-18T09:03:00.000+11:00

One of my writing goals for 2012 is to get back to what I love doing most – like losing myself in the written word.

For me my passion for prose has always centred on creative writing. So the fact I scraped through last year performing the bare minimum of a task I use to treasure is about to be rectified (and eventually, I hope, in a big way!).

In order to do this, I’m finally linking up to a “Write On Wednesday’s” group where we receive a prompt and get to try our hand at being creative.

Its the perfect avenue for me to began flexing a forgotten muscle. And I hope that just like I worked hard to find my blogging voice in 2011, 2012 can be all about rediscovering my imagination.

On that note, I’ll dive on in to Exercise 1 for 2012 with the below picture as its prompt… (Drum roll please….!)

He strolled along the gritty grey sand, shoulders slouched and hands shoved deep into his pockets. With eyes downcast there was no opportunity for him to witness that the hue of the sky now matched the matter beneath his feet. Nor did he notice the hulk of ancient nature looming before him until he became face to base with this woody heirloom of ages gone by.

He had clearly been far too embroiled in the internal slanging match inside his head and the ensuing angst that then permeated his soul.

Yet the fact that he had almost managed to escape seeing such a sizeable chuck of fallen foliage made him pause. Could there be other items and issues, noticeable to the majority of the world, that were also be passing him by without his knowing?

Staring into its intricate web of gnarled and windy roots was like looking into an endless vortex. He had been so fixated on the thoughts that each jostled for his immediate attention that he almost missed a rare opportunity to simply ponder Mother Nature’s power.

With his shoulders now set in a relaxed line and his hand free to swing by his side, the seaside march continued; except this time he was both lighter of heart and pace. Because sometimes a moment spent immersed in wonder of nature has a way of making the seemingly significant suddenly insignificant.

It’s time to play the music; it’s time to light the lights...

2012-01-15T13:30:00.000+11:00

I was in my happy place last night; surrounded by some people I love very much.

There was of course, my sweet (patient) lovely husband, holding my hand as I took this trip down memory lane (and no doubt trying to keep my potentially embarrassing hysteria in check!) You see, I was off to catch up with a gaggle of of some of oldest and dearest childhood companions that I hadn’t spent enough time with in about 12 years.

And I couldn't have been MORE EXCITED!!!

There was Kermie and Fozzie; Scooter and Rowlf, goofy Gonzo and his faithful squeeze Camilla (who was looking a bit hen pecked after all these years), Dr Teeth and his rag-tag band of misfits… And what’s a party without the always vivacious (and on the occasion vicious!) Miss Piggy?

Oh yes, the whole gang was reunited and it felt so good!

To me The Muppets WERE my childhood. So to spend 2 hours last night immersed once more in the contentment and hilarity that combines to create a Muppet Movie extravaganza, might well be the highlight of my year (big call, I know…)

I can’t even pinpoint the moment in time that my furry friend infatuation began. All I know is that it has just always been there… We had all the videos (including the Muppet Babies cartoon!) which I’m sure if we ever tried to play again would have worn out from overuse. Happiness was an hour in the company of Kermit & Co - it shines out as the brightest beacon of childhood joy I can recall.

And even as a grown woman, I still bubble over with unbridled enthusiasm whenever I see them on the screen. Take for instance this recent scenario:

“Quick Mummy, come see; it’s your friend on TV” came the excited shout from the 3 year old. I raced into the room, wondering just who among my buddies he was referring to…

“It’s the frog!” he announced. And sure enough, there he was. My old pal, my Rainbow Connection creating childhood hero, Kermie…

So thanks Jason Segel, for reigniting the Muppet flame. The fact that you never strayed from the premise of not taking yourselves too seriously complimented the Muppet Movies of yesteryear perfectly.

There was the sublime (Emily Blunt’s cameo reprising her Devil Wears Prada character) to the ridiculous (further proof that this is one franchise who likes nothing more than to laugh even at itself - gotta love the concept of “travelling by map”!) and everything in between. The catchy sing-along songs, directed by Bret McKenzie, of Flight of the Conchords fame (and if you are a fan, as I am, you will recognise his heavy influence) inject extra enthusiasm and amusement. But there are also a few lessons too. That sometimes we forget that by having faith in everyone else in the whole world sometimes means you forget to believe in yourself. But when you, you come to see a whole other side of yourself you previously never knew.

The characters still come to life, still crawl into that familiar vacant spot on your heart where you cherish your childhood memories, and still leave you wanting more as the credits roll.

“Everything is great, we’ll live happily ever after,
And well keep giving the world the greatest gift: laughter”

Life is indeed a "happy song" when you have the Muppets back again in the world to shine on!

Back on the Blogging Block

2012-01-14T13:08:00.002+11:00

To steal the theme from the lyrics of Irish lassie Sinead O’Conner, it’s been 5 hours and 24 days, since I took my blog away….

But you can only keep a blogger away from the keyboard for so long… I’m back baby and ready and raring to go in 2012!

I needed this blogging sabbatical so badly; I was weary of words. However when you factor in it was held over the busiest, most social time of the year (plus I was still working, scoring my first ever paid web content writing gig) meant that it wasn’t a true writing detox. But I did scale back heavily on the other side of blogging: the social media demands, the reading and commenting etiquette on other blogs, for example.

However, try as I might, I could not switch off the part of my brain that automatically conjures up paragraphs and posts. And with there being no other outlet to release them too, I fear it’s been a little detrimental to my rationality. Crazy as it sounds, I’m sure it’s why I am not sleeping well. There are too many sentences spiralling around inside my subconscious that previously had a release valve. So for my sanity, it appears I am back on the blogging block!

I have had plenty of time to ponder the direction of NappyDaze, and my writing goals for 2012… After many early morn walks though the tranquil surrounds of my childhood home, with nothing but the sound of my own breath, the twittering of birds and the crunch of country gravel roads beneath my feet, I began to plan.

This would be the year that I vow to only compete with myself. There is nothing to gain (except angst and stress) when you worry about the blogging escapades and successes of others. I find it not only unhealthy, but stagnating to my creative juices. Sure, I am all for gleaning inspiration from other’s achievements but I will not allow it to become the compass for which I set my journey towards.

I remember when my first ever post went live. I was completely oblivious to the fact an extensive blogging community even existed! I wrote only with the purpose of posterity and sanity; to release the overflowing ideas from my mind and record the moments of my son’s life to share with anyone bothered to read. In fact I was not ever sure if anyone other than my husband and son’s grandparents would ever even look at my site!

Since then, it has been a challenge to stretch and discover my writing voice. I adore painting a picture with words about anything that captures my imagination. So I may never fit neatly into one particular blog genre but I am oh so ok with that. I may never reveal the raw truths others can but I am also fine with that personal choice. I’ve drawn my line in the sand and shall stay behind it.

My main focus will always be to clear out the clutter of constantly gathering sentences and potential blog posts that bubble away in my brain.

I’ll also be sure to carve out time to explore other writing avenues in 2012. So if you see less of my online presence it’s because I have other dream gardens that have become overgrown with weeds and need my attention too.

One thing I do know is that I need writing like I need oxygen; it’s an essential ingredient in my psychology.

Here’s to heralding in the new year feeling the most refreshed and focused I’ve felt in a long time – look out 2012, I’ve got some BIG plans for you….

A little NappyDaze Announcement

2011-12-21T08:18:00.000+11:00

Welcome to NappyDaze's "virgin" vlog - hope you will click to listen to my news...

10 things I learned during "Life Swap"

2011-12-18T12:04:00.000+11:00

Life Swap has wrapped up, and while it wasn’t a true switch of our normal lives (the husband wasn’t asked spend his “child free days” trying to juggle work, blog writing or cleaning every inch of the house and my role was not nearly as demanding and deadline driven as he has to endure every single week), I still think we have come through to the other end with a good idea of how the other person lives week in and week out.

To that effect, here’s a few things I’ve learned while swapping lives with my (house) husband this past week gone

1. Yes, you should expect that when 125mls of rain blankets your home town in two hours, there will be flooding. And no, despite your best guilt and principle ridden intentions, coupled with a hapless 90 minute drive in the teeming rain, you will not find a way into an unflooded train station.

2. Yes your only choice is to go home and give up. No, your husband will not look out the back window of his car when reversing out of the driveway, as he is not expecting you home for another 12 hours.

3. Yes, he will hit your car and no, you will not be able to contain the tears.

4. Yes your clothes will be washed and ironed and dinners cooked but no, your floors will not be swept (“but it wasn’t on the list” he doth protest)

5. Yes you will have your second ever asthma attack and of course it will occur between the hours of midnight and 2am on a Wednesday. No you wont have a puffer with you and no, you wont be able to get inside the main house (after staying a night in your sister’s cottage) and yes you will have to text her at 2am to let you in.

6. Yes, you will be a bit heartbroken that you have to miss out on your son's special daycare concert, after putting in all the child hard yards all year long. But no, you wont miss much as he comes down with a severe dose of stage fright and seems more interested in daydreaming than dancing and singing.

7. Yes you will have delivered and made more teas and coffees than you have in the last three years combined and no, you’re not any better at it.

8. Yes the worst thing about Public Transport is still the public (passed out stinky drunk man on the train as I boarded at Tuggerah station at 7.15am I AM TALKING TO YOU). No, the 15 odd hours of having a chance to catch up on your reading doesn’t make up for it entirely.

9. Yes, you will feel a sense of pride when the week wraps, and wonder why you had been so nervous to dabble in this new side of the TV world. But no, saying goodbye to your work friends of so many years still does not get any easier.

10. Yes, you are grateful that you don’t have to do this full time working and mothering gig every week and appreciate your husband all the more for his sacrifices. But no, it wont stop you bitching and moaning when life returns to normal and you wish he was around a bit more…

Have you and your partner ever switched roles? How did yours play out?

The "Oprah" Anniversary

2011-12-14T06:30:00.000+11:00

In honour of the anniversary of "O-Stralia" day 12 month before, when I was one of the lucky few who walked the yellow brick road to see Oprah Winfrey, the wonderful Oprah Winfrey In Oz I wanted to share again the wonder that was an audience with the divine Lady O!

Tuesday Dec 14, 2010 – “O-Stralia Day” - will be etched into my soul for an eternity. I can honestly say, hand on my heart, I was living my wildest dream, to be in the same breathing space as my long time idol, to bear witness to one of her television extravaganza’s was a long term item on my bucket list which I can now officially tick off!

People ask what the highlight was and for me, simply being lucky enough to have secured such a sought after ticket was the biggest prize of all. It disgusted me when I read some online forums that people thought she should have had more giveaways, or wondering why men would have received a pearl necklace, and it actually made me a little ill. This was not what the spirit of the show was about; those who spoke these thoughts should have given their tickets to more deserving, devoted fans, as well all know there were so many who missed out.

While it was something special for my diehard Rabbitohs fan husband to see Russell Crowe, for me it was the amazing Anderson family who secured top spot in my heart. Struggling in the cruel face of cancer, and like everyone else, still trying to make ends meet to pay the bills, thanks to Oprah they are now $250,000 wealthier so that they can take the time out to be together, to heal together. Here is a 34 year old husband and father to two young boys just trying to survive and you’d have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by their plight. I will pray every day for his recovery, as, like Rachel, his wife said through her tears, boys need their father. I only have to think of how utterly adored my husband is by my son to understand just that.

The other A-HA moment for me was something that occurred when I least expected it. Screaming along in pure delight as sexy Bon Jovi rocked our stage, his lyrics suddenly struck me: “it’s my life, and its now or never. I ain’t gonna live forever”. They resonated in such a way I felt instantly altered and reminded me to look again to the Anderson family. It really is time for change, no one is guaranteed a long and healthy existence so why do we waste time existing when we should be living?

Mother Nature must obviously be another Oprah fan, because when you see our stunning Sydney Harbour and Opera House, postcard picture perfect, from the sky, with the 6000 colourful fans dotting the surrounds, you can’t help but suck in an involuntary breath of wonder.

We should be proud that our beautiful nation will be showcased to the entire TV viewing world, where 44 million people a week in over 140 countries will see the sights and delights of this great land, and inject a much needed boost to our flagging tourism industry. Like or loathe the fact that the government helped fund a small portion of this, it will be the most successful tourism advertising campaign of our time. Winfrey, a woman renowned for her Midas touch, lavished such plentiful praise on Australia that we would never be able to repay her. The truth is, in these tough economic times, we need a shot in the arm such as this. And in the form of the most powerful media mogul in the world, we got it!

Finally, thank you to my mum, for convincing me to register the husband for tickets, (knowing how desperate I was to be there), to my sister for playing referee by babysitting my son, and to my husband, who finally fell under the Oprah spell (despite his refusal to “woo-hoo” at any time – but don’t worry, I more than made up for his!). Tourism Australia head honcho, Andrew McEvoy, sat directly behind me so I made a point of personally thanking him for being so instrumental in making this dream of mine come true.

Lastly, Ms Oprah Winfrey – your generosity, your humility and your exuberant spirit of warmth will stay with me forever, and inspire me to surpass mediocrity. Whether it takes 2 years or 10, from now on I am indebted to you for reigniting a light so bright in my heart. So just like Bon Jovi sang loud and proud, I eternally pledge “ it is now or never – I aint gonna live forever, I just wanna live while I’m alive…”

Life Swap

2011-12-11T09:27:00.001+11:00

You may have noticed (largely due to my absentia online) that the real world has been keeping me well and truly busy the last week, and somehow is about to kick into an even higher gear the next... Considering I'm about at my exhaustion threshold I am hoping to dig deep and discover some extra energy levels I've not needed since the early months of childhood where running on empty was par for the course... (if anyone can spare some energy, I'd be so grateful!!)

You see, I'm about to embark on my first 5 day week in the office for about 3.5 years. And before you load your sarcasm guns and take aim, this also entails 20 hours of travel in 5 days. For the mathematicians amongst us yes, that does equate to a 60 hour week.

In order to make this happen, the husband and I have orchestrated a little role playing exchange program. Let's call it "Life Swap"...

For the next week he is in charge of all things child and chore related and I have been charged with being the chief money maker (well, kind of, if you ignore the fact he is still bringing in the bucks thanks to holiday pay).

Still, I'll enjoy coming home to cooked dinners, clean clothes and a (kinda) tidy home (a near impossible feat to achieve these days with Hurricane Harrison around) but the trade off is leaving home before 7am everyday and not returning for 12 hours each time...

I admit I also feel a little sad that after being the primary carer for the year I now face missing the fun festivities that coincide with Harrison's social Christmas calendar, including the daycare Christmas Concert and Playgroup end of year party. But on the other hand I do know it will be nice that his daddy, who has had such a busy year and missed out on so much, will get to make up for lost time and enjoy these special treats with his boy.

So, wish me luck one and all as I return to the fold I farewelled long before! See you on the "Life Swap" flipside!

You gotta have faith...

2011-12-06T13:40:00.001+11:00

Image from here

In the words of the stone wash denim clad, bum wiggling George Michael of the 80’s (whom my sister and I feverishly adored in our sad youth) the thing I’ve had to keep reminding myself of these past few weeks is that I just need to have faith in myself and my abilities. Yet sadly confidence, at times, can be in short supply.

I’ve been working on a massive project (in my day job) which has been a fantastic opportunity, and I have been so happy to be involved. Though closer it got to crunch time, the more my anxiety levels crept up. By Monday night last week I wasn’t sure if I was suffering a tummy bug or just extreme nerves, wondering whether everything I’d worked so hard on was going to run to plan.

Being a worrier by nature doesn’t help. Call it pre-empting or just plain pessimism, it is sometimes hard to not be apprehensive about all the things that may go wrong.

I barely ate for two days, was overcome with nausea at one point, and sleep became a superfluous function.

Throw into the mix I was attending a “blogging university” night that same week and I was a ticking time bomb of fear and nerves.

As with any of these events, I have to work hard on not hyperventilating with social anxiety beforehand. I’ve never been the new girl at school but I fear it’s something like that must have been. There’s nothing quite as potentially personality crushing as walking into a room full of people you only know thru cyber space, but whom all seem to know each other in real life, to bring every insecurity you’ve ever had crashing to the surface of your subconscious. Then I remind myself I am a big girl, I’ve survived the corporate world, I can string together some small talk and pleasantries in order to make a connection. And often while the thought of that is busy quelling my fears, I’ve already found someone I can relate to.

It wasn’t the ideal start to the event however, missing my train to Sydney by 45 seconds which equated me spending another 45 minutes to stew anxiously while I awaiting the next. I very nearly turned around and went home. It would have been the easy thing to do. But an audience with uber bloggers Mrs Woog and Eden Riley awaited, along with the chance to get myself in front of the savvy PR agency Naked Communications would then have been wasted. My husband (my conscience) in his silence told me everything I needed to hear – life aint easy so suck it up Princess. The Universe just wants to see how bad you want something!

It is going to be one of my goals for 2012, to work on believing in myself more. I’m aiming to remind myself, that as long as you do everything within your power and to the best of your abilities, you cannot criticise yourself. And that I am worthy, and have something to offer the world, even if I am just some small voice in the grand blogging scheme of things.

An besides, if I dont believe in myself and my dreams, who honestly will?

He knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for Goodness Sake!

2011-12-04T14:23:00.001+11:00

Propped up at the dining table, eyes as shiny as a delicate bauble adorning a Christmas tree, sits the three year old, alongside his Daddy. A shiny sheath of paper and a pen are perched between them; the task at hand is the first ever letter to Santa.

The letter has come about after a particularly trying shopping outing in which I reserved the right to revoke all Christmas privileges from my overly curious, under attentive son who not only almost got lost on many occasions but also sent my blood pressure through the roof with his constant desire to touch every freakin' thing in every shop we entered.

The Husband (aka the mediator) decided to have a diplomatic chat with the wayward child and state that Santa is always watching, and that they'd best write a letter to the big man and state his case to still be on the "Nice" list, and erased from the "Naughty" one.

After an initial consultation about what the letter should contain, the duo commenced, much like the Defence, outlining the argument as to why one Master Harrison should be entitled to some Christmas gifts. And in the interest of being truthful, (because we all know that jolly big bearded man is omnipotent) it was acknowledged there could be a lot more work done on the listening front and a pledge was made to try harder between now and Christmas to fulfil this often underachieved behaviour. He was told, if he could do that then Santa might see about granting him some Christmas wishes.

This then became the green light for the preschooler to begin reeling off a long list of toy desires. At one point I was quick to interject “This isn’t a shopping list okay? Its something we send to Santa and if you have been a good boy you might get some of them under the Christmas tree”. I was pre-empting my clever kid holding written proof against me on December 25 if all his stated desires weren’t met, as if we’d entered into some sort of binding contract!

Thankfully, the lesson on the spirit of giving began to sink in. He commented that the other boys and girls need gifts as well, which left me relieved that he isn’t under the impression Santa is on his personal payroll. Though that train of thought might have also been handy for him to be aware of two hours earlier when I was diffusing his monumental meltdown in a store when I told him the present I was buying was for his cousin.

After managing to keep the requests to a conservative four, his Daddy asks him if there is anything else he’d like to add before singing off (a closing argument, if you will…)

“Don’t forget to say ‘Merry Christmas’!” he adds enthusiastically, before curling himself into his Daddy’s warm lap like a kitten, and attempting to scrawl his name.

With that, the very first official Letter to Santa has been signed, seal and soon to be delivered… And I have 19 days of leverage in which to play the “You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why ” card to the best of my parental blackmailing ability!

The Business of Blogging

2011-12-02T14:06:00.001+11:00

This week I enrolled in blogging university – “nudiversity”, as run by the fab PR Company Naked Communications and guest hosted by uber bloggers Mrs Woog and Eden Riley, to learn more about the business of blogging.

The theme of the night was a casual chat with a focus on helping “brands and bloggers get it right”.

Without rehashing the entire presentation, I wanted to share the things I took away from the evening, in case it might help anyone else who wrestles with the whole PR/Blogging conundrum.

One of the most hotly debated discussions was the “Media Kit” (a term we all readily agreed we loathed and how we have hereby re branded it to a “position/brand statement”). It really is a necessary evil and you will need to include it in your blogging lexicon if you would like to professionally present your case to PR Agency's. However, Eden is the first to say she has survived this far without one, and even though this has not held her back she begrudgingly admits she will have to embrace this notion soon.

Be sure to create one as if you are cooking a culinary masterpiece. Essential ingredients are required such as your mission statement (preferably in 15 words or less), a snapshot of your readers/interactions via social media and stats, along with brands you’ve worked with. A “brag file” is something easy to create (and we can all thank Ms Styling You for that tip!) and is a great way to keep track of testimonials to include.

When approaching a company be sure to do your research, find out who to contact and never spell out your concrete expectations in the initial introduction. Build a repore, create mutual trust.

Of course, no PR related piece would be complete without addressing the elephant in the room; the old “selling out” chestnut that oft gets trotted out if a blogger promotes or is paid to cover a product.

Personally, I don’t believe there is such a concept unless you do something that goes against your integrity. You always know when something is not right; you get that uncomfortable twinge in your tummy to confirm you feelings. If you don’t do those things, I don’t see you as a sell out at all. We all have bills to pay (or is that just me?) and I believe we deserve to be compensated for our time. Agencies shouldn’t dare view us as simply a free avenue to promote products and clientele. Yes we might get more traffic to our site, but when we know your client has a marketing budget, a small fee is surely not stretching the friendship to cover our time?

That being said, it is still hard to turn down a pitch. If nothing else, it’s a flattering as all get out when someone approaches you – it is like you have finally been recognised for being something other than a bum wiping mum…

I suppose for so long, and for so many, blogging is a hobby. I know that is how is mainly is for me. But I do have an expectation that if I’m asked to do something for a company, that it is recognised that either I, or anyone who reads my blog, will get something in return. I think it just makes good business sense. And I'd be lying if I didn't hope that some day this little slice of cyber space enjoys some sort of regular monetary success.

As I left that night, my head was swimming with ideas and thoughts. It’s all very new territory to me so I am both excited and overwhelmed. Talking about what your readers wants, how to present yourself in “position statements” all sounds so professional and I feel like such small fry.

To be honest I’m not sure what my blog is quintessentially about, I don’t know who reads it. All I know is that I write to empty the words out of my head, and if I did not, I might explode. I love that it gives me an allowance to be creative, to tell a story. All I have ever wanted to do is write and I can do this without a university degree or stack of rejection letters to silence me.

I guess I am selfish in that I write about what I want to and think if I start writing what I think people want to read then its not me being authentic.

(And how on earth I will ever sum up on only 15 words what my blog is about is beyond me - look how long its taken me to get to this point? I am a rambler, clearly…)
But I truly do feel events such as this can help the humble blogger such as myself, who has no idea where to start, to gain an important insight into how the make the most of this burgeoning business in Australia. My thanks to Lorraine Murphy from Naked Communications who gave a fantastic, informative presentation, and of course, Mrs Woog and Eden put their personal stamp on the evening as only they could!

I'd love to hear your thoughts on all things Media Kits/PR Agencies/Blogs working with Brand - do you agree or disagree that bloggers deserve compensation if they work with a brand? And is a Media Kit (aka Position Statement!) essential to prosper in the blogosphere?

Guest Posting today at We Heart Life

2011-11-30T13:49:00.001+11:00

If you are looking for me today you can pop over to the lovely We Heart Life blog and find me regaling my tale of a horse riding adventure through the picturesque hills of Ceske Krumluv (with a hungover backpacker atop). I mean, what could possibly go wrong???

You may recall me sharing it earlier this month on NappyDaze but in case you missed it the first time around, feel free to saddle up and trot on over to lasso it before it races away...

Click here to be redirected

Grateful for Guardian Angels

2011-11-26T18:50:00.001+11:00

If you ever needed proof that guardian angels walk amongst us, let me share a little story about the encounter an amazing man who, without their intervention, would not be here with us today.

It was a scorching hot summery Saturday and my Dad was busily working away on the family Farm, trying to keep it up to scratch while his own father lay ill in a Sydney hospital ward. He began to feel funny and, assuming dehydration was the culprit, started the long walk back through the paddocks bound for my Nan’s home.

Except he never quite made it, collapsing on the side of the country road.

Driving past at that exact moment, on a dusty road that never saw much traffic happened to be, of all people, a nurse. She was able to get him to the house and insisted on calling an ambulance.

Dad, of course, didn’t want any fuss. He thought he could have a long cool drink and sit it out, without the bother of doctors.

Mum arrived on the scene around the same time as the ambulance, and together they convinced Dad that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take a trip to the hospital to get checked out, seeing as though they were here in any case.

And I count my blessings every day that he agreed, that somewhere an angel decided it wasn’t his time to go, because en route to the hospital my beloved dad went into massive cardiac arrest and had to be brought back to life on the side of the Pacific Highway, with my poor mum following in the car behind.

10,000 miles away, on a bleak Saturday morning in London, my sister and I were nursing hangovers when we got an early morning long distance call from my uncle. I still remember thinking it was strange he was ringing and even though I was instantly alarmed I tried to be chatty and light in tone, wanting to prolong the inevitable bad news that was sure to come from this unusual phone call. I’d feared the worst from my Pop, who’d been ill. Never in a millions years did I expect him to phone and tell us we’d almost lost our Dad…

After a hysterical and truly terrifying 40 hours my sister and I managed to get the very last two seats on a Qantas flight home. And I literally mean the last two seats – the very back row – an endured an interminably long flight across the oceans, uncontactable and oh so far from home.

I’ll never forget the look on Dad’s face as we walked into that hospital ward. Despite being hooked up to a multitude of machines, and suddenly so frail and older beyond his years his eyes lit up like a starry night. And I knew then in that very moment we’d made the right decision to be there, even if the worst was over. I’ll never forget that image as long as I live.

The fact that our Dad is still here with us today is, to me, testament that guardian angels do exist. I don’t dare think about what would have happened if he’d refused to go to the hospital, if he’d not been found by a stranger on the side of the road. All the things he’d have missed, walking his two daughters down the aisle at their wedding, seeing his son achieve so much, the three grandchildren who absolutely adore the very essence of him, the amazing holidays he has taken with Mum since then… None would have been possible without the interception of angels who must have seen he’d still have so much living to do…

So on this special day I wish my beautiful Dad a very happy birthday… We are eternally grateful to your guardian angel you are here with us to celebrate another year.

The only way is online, baby...

2011-11-25T12:44:00.001+11:00

Image from here

Recently the perfect storm greeted me, en route to buying groceries at my local shopping centre. It was wet, it was a Thursday, it was five weeks out from Christmas.

And empty car spots were as rare as an even tempered Kyle Sandilands.

I drove round and around that damn car park, at first assuming I’d eventually jag a spot. Until after the fourth loop I began to curse every single shopper who’d managed to secure what I couldn’t and promptly drove back out again, in a filthy mood to boot.

These actions then led me to a momentous decision – it was time to pop my online grocery shopping cherry! I’d give the guys at coles.com.au a gig and see if having my goodies delivered right to my door was actually less stressful than the events that had unfurled that foul Thursday.

Putting in my order was certainly easier than traipsing through the aisles with a wonky trolley and overtired child who demands we stop at every end row display of tempting toys on offer. All that was now required of me was to wait for delivery day and I ensured that I was home at the allocated timeslot.

I’d purposely picked a work from home day to have my goods distributed so that I wasn’t caught out in the way couriers give you that ambiguous “9am – 5pm” endless stretch of time, however I was surprised when I suddenly realised my delivery window fast approaching its limit and still no goods had graced my kitchen bench. Almost on the dot of the three hour mark, I received a call from Customer Service announcing that there had been a delay and I’d not receive my order for another hour. While this was fine as I had no plans to be anywhere else but I could imagine it be a bone of contention for some. The silver lining though was the refund of my delivery fee (which while it is only a small amount, is what stopped me in the past from online shopping) so I was a placated customer.

Unpacking my goods however was a different story.

While I was mostly thrilled with the ease in which I’d now accumulated a fridge and freezer full of food, I did notice I’d received a substitute of one brand of item (even though I was sure I’d ticked no to that, but I could be wrong!), as well as the fact the mandarins I’d requested were not included, yet I’d still paid for them. I’d also not recalled selecting top loader washing powder when I was after the other type, yet that was what I’d been supplied.

However a quick call to the Customer Service gang again saw me refunded my missing mandarin money, but alas I’d have to take the washing powder back to a store for a refund end exchange. Which was fine, except it kind of defeats the purpose of online shopping if you still have to make a special trip to the shops…

All in all though I’d say it wasn’t a bad experience, when you consider it saved me from car park and overcrowded shopping centre rage. And mostly, it had lead me to the overall concluding message below:

Retailers, are you listening? THIS IS WHY CONSUMERS CHOOSE TO SHOP ONLINE! Sure, the prices are tempting, and there is the fact you can do it all from home without the need to extract yourself from your bathrobe and ugg boots. But most annoying of all is the lack of free freaking car spots in your teeny tiny car parks that are adjacent to your mammoth shopping centres. And I can only stand wasting so much time (and petrol) stalking shoppers as they leave the centre, only to be waived away five minutes after they’ve unpacked their trolley and announce “oh sorry, we aren’t done here yet…”

So now I’d love to know your online shopping tips – do you love or loathe the experience? And can you get a damn carpark weeks out from Christmas in your local shopping centre?!

Searching for a stylish Nappy Bag? Your chance to win!

2011-11-23T14:49:00.001+11:00

It’s an age-old quandary for expectant parents the world over – forget your choice of cot or pram purchase. For the fashion savvy pregnant woman, it’s ALL about the type of Nappy Bag you wish to be seen with.

(Or maybe that was just me?)

I still recall the endless mission I undertook when I was shopping for this motherhood necessity. I searched tirelessly for an item that didn’t look so “mumsy”. Sure I know that was exactly what I was about to be, but as someone who’d long enjoyed a love affair with handbags, giving them up for a year while I toted around enough baby paraphernalia to enable me to start selling goods on the street corner, was a tricky task to undertake.

This is where two style conscious Sydney mothers, Megan & Renee, who faced the same issue, decided to swap frumpy for fashionable, creating a practical, yet desirable option you’d be proud to see swinging off the end of your stroller..

Enter “Stylish Little Me”, the sleek, sophisticated Nappy Bag that also serves a sensible purpose. Its light weight (1.2kgs!), has an external, detachable change mat, enough pockets so that everything has a home, but not so that you can never remember where the dummy has been stored. There is also the stunning design feature of the large eyelets, which fit perfectly over umbrella strollers. Never fear if you have a single bar pram – the extra long strap still fits nicely over it. You also have the choice of two classic colours (midnight blue or platinum grey). It comes cloaked in a 100% cotton baby wrap, and arrives beautifully gift wrapped on your doorstep days from ordering.

Best of all – and as my pregnant friend Danielle agreed - it does not look like a nappy bag! Winning!

The RRP of the Stylish Little Me Nappy Bag is $199 (+ p&h) and can be ordered from their website www.stylishlittleme.com.au

Megan & Renee have also kindly offered to give one lucky blog reader of mine their very own slice of Mummy style and are giving away a Stylish Little Me Nappy Bag! Even if you aren’t in the market for one personally, think of how popular you will be if you present this to a friend at a baby shower or under the Christmas tree for an expecting family member! And if you haven't finished your family but dread the thought of dragging out your old sad and stained one from before, consider this a nice keepsake to keep handy for when that time comes again...

All you need to do to be eligible is to make sure you are following my blog and leave me a comment below to tell me what your favourite aspect of this bag is.

For an extra entry tweet this giveaway but be sure to use my @NappyDaze handle so I know you’ve done so, and come on back and tell me in a separate comment.

Winner will be drawn by random.org on Saturday 3rd December at 9am. Australian residents only sorry.

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CONGRATULATIONS TO MELINDA FROM MUMMA IN HEELS WHO WAS OUR RANDOMLY SELECTED WINNER!

One is the loneliest number..

2011-11-21T16:00:00.001+11:00

With the husband away on a ~~holiday~~ work trip last week, Master H decided that he'd like to help make up for this leave of absence by morphing into my silhouette, shadowing my every move.

When I was immersed in that blurry first year of parenting I remember reading all about the dreaded separation anxiety stage, where you baby suddenly begins to understand you are not one entity and that the two of you can actually co exist (even if it is much to their howling disgust).

But not once did I ever read about this notion rearing its ugly head when you child is 3… My son however, is proof it can – because every time I dared leave his line of eyesight it was met with tears and tantrums of disapproval that I’m sure the Husband heard from Melbourne.

Perhaps my Preschooler is just lonely; I’ll grant him that. He does enjoy playing with other children and is usually counted on to be quite sociable. But shouldn't children also enjoy a sense of solitude? ~~Or is that just me?~~

Of course, his requirements for my exclusive attentions occurred at the exact same that I was trying to squeeze in a bit of extra work from home, meaning I needed to concentrate. We had some brief success when I told him to amuse himself while I worked; that was until I realised it was too quiet. Upon investigation I found a maze of green garden string unravelled throughout the house. (And I am still looking for voluteers to re-ravel it, if there are any takers...)

Careful what you wish for, right?

Even trying to perform even the most mundane tasks, like attempting to tidy my messier than a war zone house was suddenly impossible. He literally had to be peeled off my leg while I tried to push the broom to sweep. And don’t get me started on how many times I started to write a blog, only to be stopped every sentence by an insistent little person who demanded my undivided attention be directed solely at him. 100% of the time. Without break. Yes, even when going to the toilet (and heck I thought those days were long gone…)

Even at nighttime, his desire for company still lingers “But Mummy you will make me so happy if you lay here with me for one little minute” he’ll beg sleepily. It tugs at my heart, it truly does. But when your every move the last 36 hours has been with him super glued to your side, you crave, you DESERVE one minute of peace. Hell, I even locked myself in the bathroom at one stage for 5 minutes just to remind myself to bbrreeaathe…

So yes, the obvious issue is that the little man is just lonely. And in lieu of having a brother or sister to play with that mantle has been handed to me. Which would be fine, if I didn't have a million other commitments to get done during the day.

And before anyone glibly responds with the simple solution that we give him a sibling, I'll remind you that is easier said than done.

Now is the time to speak (or forever hold your peace) and impart words of wisdom that will see my son happily ensconced in his own company once more...

The Death Knell Doth Toll for Tiger...

2011-11-17T18:10:00.001+11:00

Death came knocking at our door last week.

The bell did toll for Tiger, the Goldfish.

It was to be Master H’s first lesson is the classroom of life and death.

As with anything that involves either (a) grief or (b) gross-ness I got out of there fast as I could, and let the last rites and burial be left to the Husband and Son to oversee. Plus, fish aren’t really my forte. Perhaps if we had a cat it might be a different ~~kettle of fish~~ story…

As I fled from the scene of the fishy demise, I heard the husband muster up his gentlest, most serious daddy voice, asking his son to sit down and listen carefully. He them began to impart a lesson on all things life and death that has just befallen Tiger the Goldfish. From my limited viewpoint the child seemed more distracted than disappointed, but nonetheless, I thought I’d better be a responsible parent and follow up the occurrence early the next day.

“So baby, you know what happened to Tiger, don’t you?” I asked kindly, lest I conjure up any unpleasant leftover emotions from the night prior.

“Yeah. He’s dead,” came his completely disinterested, blunt reply. He didn’t even glance up from his Weet-bix, and his face was void from all emotion.

I thought I’d try another approach, perhaps a conversational one would get him talking…

“So you know what that means?”

“I tried to touch him and use magic make him alive but it didn’t work. He’s buried.” Again, no eye contact, and certainly no tears. Well, at least I’d be spared to undertake any grief counselling – I’d seen far more reaction to a plate of vegies served up at the dinner table than the loss of one of his pets. In fact, he’d been more distraught over losing his Lightning McQueen car weeks before…

I’d definitely not been so easily placated as a child we lost beloved pets. And oh my, there had been a few… At one stage we had our own version of Pet Cemetery happening in our back yard after a particularly rough trot of untimely demises…. So much so that the emotional toll meant my parents vowed if this next pet didn’t survive we’d had to go back to playing barbies instead.

Churchill the cat then lived for 15 years. I was 23 when he’d died and I mourned him as much as any human who’d been in my world taken too soon.

Perhaps the pre-schooler is just too young to grasp the concept or perhaps my self-imposed exile from the scene made light of the whole scenario, leaving him less than concerned by it all. Whatever the case, we got off lightly with this first taste of pet bereavement. The Husband however, is gratefully accepting all messages of condolence and sympathy, should you wish to send some his way…

How did your first ever pet loss affect you? Have you had to deal with this lesson with children?