Lots of people have asking me where in the hell Monte came up with Timmet.

I have no idea it’s true.

But, I got thinking and realised that I introduce him to some kooky characters in our day to day lives and maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise.

Take bath time the other night. It is usually bath time when I can relive Year 12 Drama Improvisation class – only this time – to an adoring audience of one.

I knock on the bathroom door.

“Come in” Monte hollers from the bath

“G’day me name’s Jason and I’m a carpenter” I say in a blokey, carpenterish fashion.

“Pleased to meet ya Jason!” Monte greets, then just as quickly “Bye!”

Jason leaves , then I knock and reappear as the next character.

On and on it goes.

I’m not sure who enjoys it more.

Every now and then, a character sticks.

Take Sue-Ellen. The crazy ocker lady who lives in the Jungle with her best mate Pigeon Jack (who quite unwittingly, Cowboy under strong duress was forced to play)

Much to our surprise, Monte has taken such a shine to Sue-Ellen and Pigeon Jack that sometimes won’t perform basic functions unless we bring these characters out.

You can imagine desperate nightly situations when for instance, it is bed-time and we are well and truly ready for a little quiet… sometimes a little Sue-Ellen and Pigeon Jack has to get pulled out to encourage Monte to go to sleep, brush his teeth and put his PJs on with minimum fuss.

Oh it can be draining giving all of my energy to the effervescent Sue-Ellen, and sometimes I feel a little United States of Tara about it all. Especially when Monte seems to take more of a shine to Sue-Ellen than me!

So I am slowly phasing her out of the picture,I don’t like playing second fiddle to this over the top lady from the jungle, so I have sent her back to the  jungle to swing with the monkeys.

Monte still asks for her, but I just tell him that she won’t be back for a long time.

Now don’t quote me on it, but I have a very strong instinct that Cowboy has not felt any pang of regret or sadness that Pigeon Jack has left the building….. but you never know when a future emergency might call for the hero’s return…

My name is Sharni and it has been months since my last blog-post.

Forgive me Father.

A lot has happened in my life since I last wrote. Well, for starters I am pregnant. Almost 17 weeks – with a baby named Timmet.

For now.

Since early on in the pregnancy, Monte declared that the child was called “Timmet” and now refuses to hear anything else. We don’t know the gender, but when he is quizzed — “Is Timmet a boy or a girl?” he replies adamantly “IT IS JUST TIMMET”

We have thrown other names to him to try and take the edge and insistence on Timmet but he reacts quite visciously.

We do not know where Timmet has come from, (just call me Mary) — or why it has been chosen – but one thing is for certain, it is not just a passing thing.

You know with some toddler things, they are phases, they change – they insist, get distracted , then they forget –

Not the case with Timmet.

The teacher at his daycare asked me who Timmet was. He sets the table for Timmet, kisses Timmet goodnight on my tummy – shows Timmet his pearly whites after brushing them.

He includes Timmet in every family conversation and always asks where Timmet will sit when he ‘comes out’.

It is both beautiful and disarming.

I have been going through baby name books, compiling lists, comparing lists with the Cowboy – and feeling a strange sense of guilt when deviating from the name.

We are going to find out the gender in a couple of weeks (can’t wait!) and hopefully name our baby months before ‘it’ is born to get Monte used to the chosen name.

If  all else fails, I’ll start practicing “Oh who is a gorgeous little Timmet,” “Goochy Goochy Goo — Timmet!”

Oh we couldn’t.

Could we????

Today I channeled Bruce but should have been channeling Steve Irwin.

Cowboy parked the Ride On Mower at the front door, he was coming in for a break.

Monte immediately ran out to sit on it. I was lingering next to him making sure he didn’t switch on the ignition. We were all sort of hanging around the mower when Cowboy did a funny leap in the air.

I looked at his face and could see immense fear. “Grab Monte!” he said looking down at the mower.

Immediately I felt like Bruce Willis as I grabbed Monte and ran as quick as I could because clearly the mower, it was about to blow!

It’s funny, in retrospect, what your mind conjurs up at moments like this.

The fear on Cowboy’s face as he looked down at the mower, in that split second I knew we had seconds to escape the enormous blow-out – in my sporting anklet socks I fetched Monte and took flying leaps the hell out of there.

At least 50 metres away we turned back, the explosion still yet to happen – to see Cowboy with shovel in hand saying.

“Get in the Car NOW– Is Monte OK?”

“What HAPPENED????” I asked my nerves now sitting on the outside of my skin. ” A huge Brown Snake was just at Monte’s feet!”

Well holy snapping duckshit. It was just THIS MORNING I told Cowboy how I had never, in my life, seen a live snake. In fact, I still hadn’t. Even though this massive piece of work could have been right at my sporting anklet socks.

Holy Shit why did I google an image. No sleep for me EVER AGAIN!!

We sat in the car. Windows up. Shaking. Monte wanting to go out to Daddy —-

Daddy armed with a shovel, pale — looking for the culprit.

Looking, looking – convinced he went behind our front step.

We waited, we looked — we didn’t see him again.

I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come this Summer. Bring the mice back any day.

This grated on my nerves.

Going so annoyingly just under the speed limit felt…. well… annoying!

Moments of clarity can arrive  at the most unexpected times.

I became acutely aware of the frustration I was feeling. I became aware that I was contemplating the ‘over-take’, I noticed that I was muttering obscenities and then I took a look at myself and said “What does it matter? What’s the rush?”

It’s just so annoyingly under the speed limit. 3kms FASTER YOU IDIOT! JUST 3KMS FASTER!

I consciously decided to not overtake the car. No matter how the frustration rose in me.

I decided I was not going to call them an ‘idiot’ or think unholy thoughts about the driver.

Instead, I was going to see the 97km per hour driver as some sort of teacher.

Yep,  I was going to follow this car home at 97km per hour and I was going to learn a lesson in it.

It soon became apparent I was the only driver on the road undergoing this spiritual lesson.

Hotted up cars with loud engines  zoomed by us, trucks with stuff to deliver overtook us without a second thought.

Then something peculiar happened.

My frustration morphed into a kind’ve smugness.

For what, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was because I was in the moment – I realised that there was no rush, and that the whole hurry up, you are an idiot thing was really so crazy.

So on just another Thursday afternoon, Monte and I travelled home at 97km per hour and life went on. We slowed it down a notch and went with the flow of the spiritual teacher in the car in front of me. (Who I think might have been the bloke from the local servo)

I have decided from now on whenever I feel an irrational desire for things to go quicker – I am going to force myself to go just below my limit and see how it feels.

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Simply (a theme here??) enter Sharni10 as your Coupon Code when shopping at her store.

If you are a Mama I think you will love what she has on offer. You can go here to check it out.

Dear my 90 Year Old Self,

Wow, you made it to 90! I’m guessing you must have finally made some changes to your sugar addiction then eh?

How does your life look from where you are sitting?

I do hope that you are a content old lady, not one living with bitterness or regret. I am sure by now life has thrown you some heartache and loss, that I haven’t experienced much of while I write this letter to you.

I am sure by now you are not measuring your success by whether or not you managed to get a flat tummy again after becoming a Mum, in fact, I hope that those child/ren (??)  you raised so lovingly — are now there by your side, loving you right back.

I hope that you are still finding the humor in things, even when things become difficult. If there is one thing that has served me in life up until now (my 32nd year) it is that. Being able to laugh at yourself, accept yourself and the realisation that the grass isn’t greener on the other side….

You know the rest.

I hope you are still writing, and making sense of the world through it.

I hope you have beautiful grandchildren, perhaps great grandchildren.

This letter up til now has been a bit wishy washy, hasn’t it? A bit generalised, typical stuff you would say to your 90 year old self. Cliched even.

So I’m going to cut the crap and say what I really hope for you.

I really hope that you have finally learned to stop sabotaging yourself. I hope you learned to break free past all the conditioned thoughts that held you back. I hope you were able to change the records in your head that kept you at a certain level, when I know that you wanted to shoot for the stars. I know as you got older possibilities felt less possible – I hope you broke through this and realised that everything was possible.

I hope you still have Cowboy by your side after a long beautiful life together, I hope you have many beautiful life memories, wisdom from the hard times and the ability to laugh.

I hope that you did nurture that spiritual side of yours, wrote and wrote and wrote – and I really hope that one day, you were able to make your living out of writing.

I hope all these things for you.

And as I write it I realise, I have the power in my hands right now, to make these things a reality for you, for me – for us.

I can  begin now, to accept myself as I am and to love and appreciate what I am creating right now, will be a memory for you. And I am sure as you are sitting there reading this you are willing the 32 year old me “For God’s Sake! Stop Worrying and ENJOY!!!!! What you have is precious — you have NOTHING to worry about – go forth and live!”

I owe it to you, 90 year old me, to get on with it and be happy.

See you a lot later,

Sharni xx

I thought it might be a red backed creature

I googled the symptoms

And waited

Cowboy rubbed my foot

While I awaited paralysis

I nodded off to sleep

I woke up alive

With feeling in all parts

It must have been an earwig

Thank-you earwig for saving my life.

That side of myself that noticed dragonflies perching still for too long; had wonderful life lessons presented to me clearly on a daily basis, and noticed gifts from the ‘other side’.

After the ‘pause’ that is new Motherhood – it seems you are again flung into the world of deadlines, punctuality, greed, keeping up with the Jones ‘, while battling with a technology explosion.

Everybody is hooked up, in touch, permanently, nothing is sacred, private – we are deeply involved in the minutiae  of each other’s lives. I am starting to think we are so caught up in the novelty of all this that we have lost touch with our ability to just, be – exist, not have to know everything about each other (says I writing a blog and frantically updating my status).

Modern life is leaving little room to receive a message from the Universe, how could we hear it over our beeping i-phone, the blaring television, or the latest youtube videoclip sweeping the nation.

I am in the thick of it – but the novelty is wearing off. I am starting to miss the pause, the silence, the moment where you notice what ‘is’.

I’m missing my messages from Dragonflies and rainbows.

How about you? Are you in the thick of it? Or do you have a way to access the quiet?

“When you grin, make it ear to ear – having a fun Dad to muck around with will help your cause”

- Monte

The Grandma with the slick one-liners, an independent streak a mile long – and the most caring of hearts you will ever meet. The grandma who gave me a taste for beetroot, walked off in the middle of plays I performed for her, and always had a fridge stocked with ginger beer.

The one that is 30 years older than my Mum, who is 30 years older than me, who is 30 years older than Monte.

The trooper who swears by an apple a day.

She was sent over to Griffith Hospital from the OHT after having a fall. I have been up there the last couple of days hanging out while she has felt so nauseous and yuck.

I took Monte with me a couple of times which seemed to cheer her up and I was tickled with pride when he spontaneously told her “I hope you feel better soon Grandma” and gave her a big cuddle and kiss.

Technically, she is my Grandma and Monte’s Great Grandma — and funnily, her other ‘great grandchildren’ refer to her as “Great Grandma”, it’s pretty special I reckon.

I just hated seeing her in this drab, sterile hospital.

I don’t think anybody likes hospitals, but couldn’t they do something to improve the vibes in the place? Couldn’t they?

I felt so helpless and Grandma was lying there feeling nauseous, unable to eat with a bossy nurse yelling at her “You have to eat sweetheart, ” with Grandma replying “It’s hard to eat when you feel sick” and then zero empathy coming from the Nurse.

The good news is, she is going back to the OHT today, where she will stay in the more familiar OHT Hospital for a bit before returning to my Parents place.

She never ceases to amaze me how uncomfortable she is with anybody expressing care or concern over her.

I have heard there is a certain breed of Grandmother who thinks the world needs to stop to care for her, the type who forgets anybody else has lives to get on with. My Grandmother is the opposite.

She physically squirms if you pay her a visit, or stay for too long, she is convinced everybody else has stuff they need to do, or their own problems to be concerned with sitting with her up in the hospital.

If only she knew, or would really listen when we say:

There is NOTHING more important than sitting there, by her side in the hospital. Nothing.

She is seemingly unaware of just how treasured she is.

She doesn’t see that sitting next to her in the hospital, getting angry on her behalf when the nurses are being bossy, or not giving her as much attention as we think she deserves, it is not a hassle!

We haven’t got something better to do, or something bigger to worry about.

We simply love her to the moon and back and sitting by her side while she is feeling absolutely awful is number one on the priority list.

You hear that Grandma? Can someone read this to her?

We love you and hate seeing you sick.