Where's My Glow?

Letter to Bobbin - ten years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Fri, 25 Aug 2023 17:25:00 +0000

Happy Double Digits, Bobbin! You are TEN. A decade. 3,652 days old.

Smalls, I can't begin to describe what an amazing human you are. Your dry sense of humour cracks me up all the time, and it is very hard to keep a straight face if you've done something you weren't meant to and you come out with an on point, one line zinger. You balance caring, compassion, sass and fierceness. You are strong mentally and physically, and I often wonder how I got so lucky to have this badass, bird-flipping firecracker in my life.

You took up Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu this year on top of your usual Mixed Martial Arts, and you've really taken to it, learning all these new moves. You entered your first BJJ competition last weekend. I wasn't sure what the look on your face was because it seemed to me you were bored or didn't want to be there. Turns out, that was your game face, trying to psych out the other competitors into thinking you weren't going to try, because the second the match started you were ON. I told Dad about it and he said "Oh yeah, didn't you hear what she said as she walked on? No mercy".

You won each of your three matches by submission in the 7-10yo mixed category - and each with an arm-bar, your absolute fave to bring in when you see the opportunity. You were racking up points, and I won't lie, I didn't understand them very well. No one managed to score any points against you, and you won your first round in 23 seconds - which freaked me out because I thought it ended because you'd accidentally hurt your opponent. Nope. She was fine. You managed to see that arm bar opening early and she couldn't move, so she tapped out. You were thrilled to get the gold medal and stand on the podium.

Another martial arts thing you started is Leadership. You have been hanging out to be old enough to join! You are learning how to be an instructor and each week you are the assistant in the Ninja Ru program for three and four year olds. You were nervous to begin with, though you're really starting to get the hang of it now. Hearing you use strengths based language and using modelling and praise of attitude and effort to get these tiny tots to follow along shows such maturity and spirit.

You started cello this year! We were so excited to hear you got accepted into the music program as the rest of us all play an instrument - but you're our first string instrument (I don't really count the one year I played cello because I was terrible at it). It was hard to get you to not play when you didn't know how to adjust the bow properly, and a string did manage to get snapped as you 'discovered' how to tune it. It just shows how eager you are to do everything. When you're focused, it's like a laser, and you can be there forever. You have put in SO much effort and practice a lot, producing a really lovely tone. You even got an A on your first report card! A testament to all your efforts.

A big hair cut was a change of pace for you. It started with wanting a super blunt fringe which you were so happy about, and then, after years of saying you wanted hair as long as possible and it getting all the way down to your hips, you wanted it above your shoulders. And you wanted it done NOW. You had to be patient for a few days before we could get there, but when we did you sat there, told the lady how short you wanted it, and closed your eyes to stop the few tears that were forming from rolling down your cheeks. She cut it below your shoulders to start, you opened your eyes, smiled, and said "shorter". You LOVE it. And you've asked to go shorter still - which is tricky because it still needs to be out of the way for sport, so we're looking at clips and different styles so you can get it cut shorter soon. The short hair accentuated your changing face, and you look all grown up all of a sudden. You're not a little kid anymore, babes.

The intuitiveness and compassion you have towards others is astounding. You wrote me a vision board on neon pink, heart shaped post it notes because you thought you could be a good mental health worker. You would be, actually. You accept everyone for who they are and strive to understand the people around you. You invited me into your office (the play room) and said you'd put lots of thought into this and I should quit my job because it was making me stressed. It also said I should eat more chocolate. And give you chocolate. So I've done all three. Because you are right. Life has been really hard for us as a family these past two years, and you helped me realise I wasn't prioritizing us.

We celebrated my new found freedom (unemployment?) and took time to reconnect by staying at a hotel overnight - a girls mini staycay! I got you GOOD! You had NO IDEA. I took you around part of the city and showed you where Dad and I got married, and said "let's go inside and see if we can find the things from my wedding photos". You were a bit nervous, thinking we were breaking the rules... but you listened intently and recreated a photo of Dad at the hotel. I'd given you a special code to crack that would leave you with a three digit number and told you to find the door with that number. You found it, and whaddyaknow the key unlocked the door. We went inside and you said maybe we could stay for a few hours and relax? I invited you to look around; you saw the massive bath and said "I'm totally getting in there!" then you ran and jumped on the bed. When you looked in the cupboard and found your suitcase that I'd dropped off earlier, your face was priceless. So THAT'S where your missing pink bag went! Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from you and squirrel away your belongings without you noticing? It was impossible! I had to lie to your face saying maybe you'd put it in the dress up box. We had a gorgeous time galivanting around the city, dressing in pink to see The Barbie Movie, meeting a friend for coffee, having the biggest bubble bath around, ordering room service, staying up late, and meeting up with Nanna and Pop for lunch. It was brilliant making memories with you, Babycakes, and I loved reconnecting with you.

You are still utterly obsessed with art and will happily spend hours hyperfixated on all things crafty. Whether it's creating polymer earrings, colouring in, painting, hydrodipping, digital art on procreate, or sculpting with clay, you want to be doing it at all times. You have filmed yourself, pretending to be a TV presenter or YouTuber, giving step by step instructions for others to follow. You get so into it you even forget to eat sometimes.

You have dealt with some grief these past twelve months with the deaths of two great grandparents with trips to Albany for their funerals, plus the death of my friend, who you'd met a few times on picnics and shopping trips. Each time you have written a beautiful goodbye letter for them saying you loved them and thanking them for being in your life. It has been beautiful and heartbreaking to watch you process grief for people that you weren't particularly close to, but meant something to you. Hearing you ask questions about death and life, meaning and connection, is astounding. I remember saying you were a brand new soul when you were little because you never stopped, you wanted to know everything and asked so many interesting questions. It seems like you're trying to learn the secrets of the universe - I think I'm the wrong person to ask.

Upside down or rolling around continues to be your default mode. You have so much energy and unless you're in art mode (or binge watching the same TV series over and over again on screen day mode), you never sit still. Nanna calls you a fart in a bottle.

It's not been the best year for you at school, and you've been extremely bored, coming home covered in texta and pen up and down your legs. You tell me you do it there because it's mostly hidden and you don't get in trouble that way. That spicy brain of yours needs stimulating and if you aren't interested you just drift off into your own world. It frustrates you a lot, and you sometimes say your brain is broken. I wish you could see how brilliant it actually is. You've developed a great number of skills and techniques to help all by yourself and it really impressed me. You will turn anything into a fidget, and turn everything into art to keep your brain focused. You've come up with all these systems and structures to help with the areas you struggle in, and I'm just amazed. The things you do like about school this year are cello and art (and now your new classroom teacher that you've had for a week). You come home talking about art class and how much you love it, how you wish it was every day, and how great your teacher is - she thinks you're pretty special, too. I wouldn't be surprised if you followed in her footsteps and combined your love of art and teaching.

Pain is a major issue for you, and we're working with your specialist to find the right balance of medication and activity for you. It's tricky because you are SO competitive and sporty, but your body falls apart and you end up paying for it. We're working on listening to your body and stopping before it gets too bad... and it's a work in progress. You won the interschool throwing competition last year after breaking the school record, and this year you've been really disappointed in yourself for not being able to throw as far due to your shoulder subluxing. Your 'wings' pop out on demand, but also sometimes when they're not meant to, and combined with a default mode of 'push as hard as you can' this means trouble. We'll continue to work on it together, Babycakes. You went on an amazing camp for kids with chronic pain - away for seven days and loved it all with not a hint of homesickness. You made some great friends who get what it's like to have a body that doesn't always do what you want it to do.

You are ten going on sixteen, my strong, determined, tenacious, fierce one. You're determined to start your dog walking business this year (because I've been saying no for two years now), and I have visions of you spending all the money on Squishmallows and slime. It's a tricky time with a teenage sibling, and your own world expanding into tween-hood and discovering who you are. You still absolutely must do our special kiss when we're separating (I kiss your left palm then right palm, you kiss my left palm then right palm, we rub noses, kiss and cuddle), and I can see you're starting to not want to do it in front of others, feeling it is too baby-ish. But I know you'll get through these hard years of change ahead and focus on the connection and joy around you. As you say, you've got this, girlfraaaand.

I love you.

Mum x

Letter to Bobbin - nine years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 25 Aug 2022 23:14:00 +0000

Happy Birthday Bobbin!

Another year around the sun, and another year of being a super cool kid.

It's hard not to lead with the coolest brag ever: you managed to become the youngest Black Belt our dojo has ever had at the age of 8. You absolutely nailed the grading; you were SO ready. I was anxious watching your katas because in the mock grading you got a bit nervous and you forgot some of the moves (that you could usually do in your sleep!). The Shihan reminded you that it's not about getting everything perfect, it's about how you recover from a mistake - funny that I can say it and it doesn't count but when the dojo crew say it, it does! Doesn't matter which way the message gets in, it helped take some pressure off, and on the grading day you sailed through the katas.

Your pushups were on point and your sparring was an absolute joy to watch. You dominated against people older than you, but the moment I was most proud of was when you pulled back a bit. A boy your age who was going for his brown belt was a bit intimidated by you; you advanced and connected some great shots, and it was a bit much for him and he cried and wanted to stop. You downshifted your momentum, made sure you didn't connect any more head shots, and moved to be more defensive than offensive, giving him an opportunity to rise. I was lucky enough to be filming you when it happened and I've rewatched it so many times - both to see how focused and determined you were in the first half of your bout with him, and to watch that gentle shift and see your compassion shine through in the second half.

You even came away with two nominations for gradee of the day, which for a tiny little eight year old is impressive! Well, it's impressive to your mum at least. After over two hours of hardcore grading you went to a trampoline centre for a party and then spent the afternoon playing... your energy level is mindblowing.

You've always had a wicked sense of humour but your wit has developed so much in the past twelve months. I am forever laughing at the funny things you say; always using a biting wit with a touch of sarcasm to get your point across. Some of your one liners are so fast that it won't be long before I won't be able to keep up. The other day I said "Wow, what did I do to get such an awesome kid?" and you raised an eyebrow and said, dryly, "You had sex." I nearly keeled over laughing so hard.

Upside down continues to be your natural go-to position to be in. Handstands and bendbacks galore, and since you perfected your splits you usually do some combination of all of them with a flourish at the end. You're such a performer, singing and making up dances with your friends (or just in front of the mirror- half your time is in front of the mirror). I know you're getting a microphone from a friend this weekend, and I cannot wait to see you light up when you unwrap it. You're having a Dance Party that goes until 10pm and I can't decide whether I'm a cool mum or an idiot for doing it! You've asked for a Party Llama cake and have helped me create the Llamas party hat, and want to have a go at doing some of the icing. I'm so excited for you to give it a whirl.

You've been filming yourself creating all sorts of things, pretending you've got a YouTube channel. Sometimes it's you teaching people how to make different shapes with magic sand, or your own cooking show, or dance academy. The commentary is absolute gold to listen to. Recently you spent a weekend in Albany and used the GoPro to film yourself on the bike track with full commentary including a "oh crap, yeah careful on that corner, nearly fell off there". You have a passion to share knowledge and whilst you still talk about becoming a police officer, teacher is now firmly up there when you're asked what you'd like to be when you grow up.

I received the most amazing feedback from one of your teachers. She approached me to say you were an amazing human, wise beyond your years and a fantastic role model to your peers. She said you are the instigator of brilliant conversations and have educated your classmates about the LGBTQIA+ community. She said you inspired her. I was so blown away. I've always thought you were sensational, but I'll admit I'm biased so it was genuinely lovely to hear such glowing feedback. Your strength as an ally and advocate to your sibling makes me ridiculously proud. So much compassion and kindness in a tiny little package.

You helped create a placard and marched alongside Tricky and I to fight for LGBTQIA+ rights earlier this year. It wasn't your first protest, and I'm sure it won't be your last. You've created signs and posters to hang around the house and an 'all genders welcome' sign that you've proudly hung on the front door. It's fitting that your birthday falls on Wear It Purple Day this year! You make everyone feel welcome and that Social Justice streak in you is mighty strong.

Alfie is never far from your sight and you continue to smother him in cuddles at every possible moment. He still lets you dress him up and play, and even snuggles on your lap for a "bottle" (a spray bottle that he loves to drink from) that makes you melt. A few reminders to leave him be are needed because we all need personal space, even The Floof. You're desperate to grow up so you can walk neighbourhood dogs and even dog sit... maybe start by walking your own dog more often though, babes?

You continue to amaze me at all times. You never, ever stop, and are bouncing off the walls, cracking your knuckles constantly, talking a mile a minute, and can never sit still. That brain of yours works super fast and it's both beautiful and chaotic at the same time. You're an intriguing mix of confidence and reluctance, smart and silly, competitive and compassionate, strong and vulnerable. You're a beautiful imperfect whirlwind and I love you just the way you are.

Have a brilliant year, babycakes, it's double digits next time.

Love Mum x

Letter to Bobbin - eight years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 26 Aug 2021 04:15:00 +0000

Hey Smalls,

It's your birthday! EIGHT YEARS OLD! How did that happen? In my mind you're about four years old, and when I look at you I honestly don't know where the years have gone.

You continue to be ridiculously independent and love to do everything yourself. You like making snacks for yourself and for Tricky and his friends when they come over; you're a great little host. Your favourite thing to eat right now is two minute noodles, and even though you are a bit scared of using the stove after a little burn on your arm, you use really long tongs and stand a bit further back. I can see how proud you are of pushing through that fear of being burned again.

This morning you woke up and the first thing you did was run to Alfie. Yep, we got a new dog. After the pain of losing Sprocket last January, we surprised you and Tricky with a puppy in April that you had already named Alfie. You had already created a bed, too. You'd already done everything, actually, in preparation for a dog that you didn't know about. It was love at first sight. You squealed and later even cried because you were so overwhelmed with happiness. You and Tricks immediately introduced him to Sprocket's portrait and ashes, and you're both very careful to say that he's your favourite living dog, or favourite Groodle, to honour that Sprocket still has a huge place in your heart. In fact, you still bring flowers to a little shrine you created, and a few nights ago I found you sleeping with his ashes wrapped up in a furry jacket, secured with his collar. He's still so much a part of your life, and I love that.

Alfie is very patient with you (most of the time) as you dress him up in outfits and tiaras, play vets and groomers, and constantly pick him up and snuggle him. He's an excellent snuggler and you love it when he's on your bed, curled up with you. You asked for a wedding outfits for both of you so you could get married, and baby girl I delivered. A white fluffy dress for you, and a prince outfit for him, complete with crown. So now you're planning a wedding.

You absolutely nailed your brown belt grading! You powered through the katas and your sparring was excellent, I was so proud. But what made me even prouder was the way you were with Tricky, who attempted his black belt grading on the day but didn't get to finish. You were a gracious winner, and whilst we all still celebrated you with a special dinner, you didn't rub it in, and were always checking that he was OK, knowing it would be hard for him. The maturity you showed was astounding.

You're now only a few months away from going in to black belt prep classes! It will be interesting to see if you can keep up with pushup requirements for black belt because of the way your muscles and joints are. I have no doubt of your sparring, and when you remember to practice you can get the katas, but the fatigue that sets in with your bendy body will be a challenge for you. So you might be a black belt this time next year, we'll have to wait and see!

You've recently started tennis lessons on a Saturday morning and are loving it. Though you do appear to enjoy going around and picking up all the balls more than hitting them. You use the racquet to see how many you can do at once, a competition of sorts, and end up with so many you can only shuffle forwards without spilling them.

I'm surprised you didn't pick dance as your second sport. You are always singing and dancing at every opportunity. You make up songs and medleys and sing, sing, sing as much as you can. You spin and twirl around the place in leotards or fancy dress whenever you get the chance. Sometimes you'll be out the front on rollerblades and wearing a tutu, making up a song and dance routine on the neighbour's driveway. There's always time for a performance with you.

You are super creative and the craft trolley is always out while you create all sorts of lovely drawings and art work. Your favourite thing to do is to make personalised cards for people; your current teacher, your pre primary teacher, the neighbours, friends, me, Nanna and Pop... the list goes on. There's always a card or letter being written. You love playing teachers, too. You get out the whiteboard and line up your teddies to teach them. I even heard you recording in funny voices of your teddies saying "Good afternoon Miss Bobbin" so that you could have a more authentic classroom. You still want to be a police officer, but a teacher, a mum and a dog walker have made your list now.

Your Lego skills have shot up sharply these past twelve months, and you've started creating your own pieces; some from instructions that you find then modify, and some that you make up yourself. I'm so impressed with your NPU - nice part useage in Lego Speak. You love creating dioramas and, ofcourse, they always have dogs in them. You got a doggy daycare lego set today from your Albany Nanna and Pop and you flipped!

You have adjusted well to not having me around as much as I'm studying and working six days a week this year. It's tough on you when I'm not home to tuck you in to bed, but luckily two nights that I work you're allowed to stay up a bit later for mum cuddles in bed while we watch cute dog videos on Instagram together. I do love our cuddles, and our special not so secret handshake/kiss when I'm leaving or dropping you at school: I put a kiss in each of your hands to take with you, you do the same to me, then we touch noses, a kiss, and a hug. If I'm dropping you at school you then say "see you in the window" and you go to the front passenger window and make a loveheart with your hands, kiss your hands and then blow little thumb and finger hearts to me. It's been our routine for years, slowly having more bits added, and the heart hands are brand new this year. I have visions of it being ten minutes long by the end of primary school!

You are such a joy to be around, my girl. You're fabulous, funny, smart, creative, adventurous and sporty. You are exhausting in the best possible way. Keep planning your mammoth yes day that has been postponed yet again, and hopefully we'll get it and your birthday party organised and done soon.

Love you, cupcake.

Mum x

Letter to Tricky - eleven years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 03 Jun 2021 23:02:00 +0000

Hey Bigs,

Happy birthday, my gorgeous kiddo.

What a year, hey? I wasn't sure if I was going to write this letter or if I was closing it off after ten years, but here I am. I think this might be it though? Rounding out your last year of primary school with your last letter? Who knows? It will be a hard tradition to give up because I love reading the old ones before writing the new one; adding another chapter to the book of you.

You've been a very independent kid for a few years now; roaming the streets on your bike, getting to and from school yourself a few days a week, and so forth, but the last six months in particular, you've increased this and taken on responsibility of taking Bobbin to and from school a few days a week, while I'm studying. It's been mostly good because, well, you're siblings, and sometimes you ride too fast for her!

I love the little messages you send me from your watch or Messenger Kids. Sometimes we'll talk in just silly emojis, but most of the time you're saying how you love me and think I'm an awesome mum. It makes me feel so good that you think so highly of me. I think the absolute world of you and your poo emojis.

Your black belt grading was rather contentious. You were runner up gradee of the day for your brown, and we knew you could kick butt for your black. You were super nervous though and didn't have that same energy from the last time. But you still did OK, or at least we thought so, until they sat you down. We were all so confused. We couldn't understand why you were being sat down when you were doing OK, and doing better than some others who were still going. I had heaps of video footage and even showing your instructors they did not understand why you'd been sat down.

It was really hard for you, and the half dozen or so other kids that were also sat down. Your sister graded to brown that day and you did a bloody marvellous job of still celebrating her even though the wind had been knocked out of your sails. There was celebratory dinners booked, and I was so impressed with how you were able to balance your feelings.

All the kids that were sat down were from our dojo, and being graded by another dojo... that seem to be not on the greatest of terms. A bit sus. Even the organisers thought it was an unfair decision and instead of making you wait three months to try again as is the norm, you all were allowed to try again during that week. That's unheard of.

You felt really sick on the day; I thought it was just nerves and sent you along, even though I'd been a bit sick and wasn't well enough to come watch, I still thought it was nerves for you! You did a massive spew during your grading and that's not unheard of so we STILL didn't think it was sickness. But when you were sick as a dog for the next two days we realised you'd just done your black belt grading with gastro. Unbelievable! My ten year old black belt.

You've also started doing the leadership class at the dojo. You were asked to join years ago when they didn't know how old you were, because you would be focused and follow the class really well and they hoped you'd be able to guide others... but you were too young! We forgot about it a bit and then a few months ago we realised that hey, you're old enough now, and finally you stepped in. It's still new for you but you're getting the hang of being an assistant instructor. You like to help the orange and blue belts with their katas the most, and you're getting better at projecting your voice to award badges.

Grade six is an interesting year. You like your teacher, though you miss your teacher from last year terribly. You've got a nice group of friends and when you all get together it's fabulous, fun, and loud. Things are progressing and we're sending off high school applications! You were encouraged to apply for the GATE music school but decided you wanted to go where your friends were going, and since change is really hard for you, I think you made a great decision.

You're still loving trumpet, and we all swelled with pride hearing you sound The Last Post at dawn on Anzac Day on the driveway (those Covid hiccoughs have mostly gone away for our state, but there are a few here and there, and we were all in lockdown over that long weekend). You are still teaching yourself more and more songs on the piano, and have started creating music electronically, too. You have such a gift for hearing something and then playing it! Getting you to practice is not always easy though, mister.

In the last school holidays we got a new furry family member, Alfie. I surprised you with him and though you loved him instantly, it did take a while for you to adjust to having a puppy in the house. You are very protective of Sprocket's memory, and within about 20 minutes of having him home, you and Bobbin introduced him to Sprocky's portrait and ashes, telling tales of his "big brother". You are very cautious to say "best dog right now" not "best dog ever" because you worry about hurting Sprocket's feelings. When Alfie laid in the same spot in the garden that Sprocket loved, you asked me if maybe Sprocket's spirit was there? That maybe Alfie could feel it and was drawn to that spot because of it. I love how your brain is working and you're figuring out your own spiritual path.

You've dropped Muay Thai and taken up skateboarding instead. You spent your own money on a cool board and have been going to a nearby club to learn a few tricks. You were very timid and wouldn't drop in at the skate park; you would stand near the edge for ages, contemplating, weighing up the pros and cons, and then you'd step down, really annoyed with yourself. But after your second lesson you shouted "Hey, mum, watch me drop in" and suddenly you can drop in and do all sorts of things. You don't like some of the tricks though because you watched one kid break their board attempting it and you're convinced the same would happen to yours, so you just flat out refuse to give it a go. Not chancing a broken board that you worked so hard to save for.

You are still obsessed with games and aren't very happy with me that you're only allowed to play them twice a week. What can I say? I'm anti-screen. But you get online and play and chat with your friends; I love that you can use it to connect with the boys from your old school, and the bond you have with them is so strong.

We are still discovering how amazing your brain is and I can't wait to see what's next. You have some challenges ahead of you in the next six to twelve months, my gorgeous boy, but I promise I will be right here, helping you, advocating for you, pushing you along when you need it, and being your soft place to land when you fall.

I love you with every fibre of my being. You're my favourite Tricky ever ;)

Mum x

A Vuly Good Backyard Makeover

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 05 Nov 2020 05:43:00 +0000

Hasn’t it been the absolute weirdest year? Like so many people we have been spending more time at home, and even now with restrictions almost completely gone in WA, we are still little homebodies. It’s my socially anxious idea of heaven. Ahhh.

Staying home so much and looking at my tiny little boring, dust bowl of a backyard was a bit depressing though. It was brown and sandy with a few pot plants about the place. A little makeover was necessary.

MG ripped up all the old, very dead grass, injuring his wrist in the process. He plays a full contact sport and injured himself gardening. Top effort, mate. He had to rest it for a few weeks and then compacted the ground and laid some pavers while still in a splint - shh, don’t tell his doctor.

I chipped away old mortar from our back fence with a chisel and hammer, and spent eight hours scrubbing with acid and a wire brush before I re-pointed the fence. I’m extremely thankful for podcasts and YouTube instructional videos! Saving money and sanity one DIY tutorial at a time.

Annoying delays by the company laying the grass were sending me batty (seriously people, measure, don’t eyeball things!) but were all but forgotten though when it was finally time to set up the best trampoline for a small yard.

She's a beauty!

We were extraordinarily lucky to be gifted a Vuly Ultra trampoline. We chose a small to fit perfectly in our little space. Even though it’s the smallest in the range it’s still big enough for two kids under 10 to play on. I fit on easily, too, able to bounce away with the shade in place since it’s 40cm taller than the nearest competitor. Yes, I jumped on it, why are you laughing? MG being over 6 foot tall hits his head on the shade if he bounces too high, so he’ll have to be a reserved jumper or take off the shade and bounce in the sunshine.

I love that the net has an envelope opening instead of a zipper that could accidentally be left open for someone to tumble through. There’s no calling out “close the flap!” and worrying someone is going to fall off. It’s also a very tight weave, meaning the kids can’t poke their fingers through. Because we all know that the second they put a finger through it becomes a larger hole and within a few days they’ll be seeing if they can fit two fingers and then a tennis ball. No chance of that happening here at all.

The kids haven’t gotten off it since it arrived. When she was absolutely exhausted from bouncing, Bobbin ran inside and reappeared with an armful of toys and a picnic set. Trampoline tea parties are the absolute best. It was a really hot day and the trampoline made the perfect setting with the shade cover over top and the breeze coming through underneath.

Physical fitness is really important for my two. They are both eyeing off new belts in martial arts soon so some extra cardio work is needed to get them through a gruelling 1.5-2 hour grading- bouncing on the trampoline provides a solid workout without the pounding of joints that running can bring. Plus it’s MUCH more fun!

Hearing that a friend has had a Vuly in their yard for eight years that looks almost new makes me think I have many, many years of sending the kids out to play ahead of me. Thank you Vuly!

Vuly Play is a leading designer of outdoor play equipment. From swing sets for kids, to monkey bars and trampolines, trust Vuly when it comes to quality and safety.

For a list of our TOP 5 Games on a Trampoline visit us at Perth School Holidays

Letter to Bobbin - seven years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Tue, 25 Aug 2020 16:39:00 +0000

Hey there Baby Cakes,

You are waking up to $2 from the tooth fairy and another year older today. In the future when you're looking back, I think the first six months of 2020 will stand out as a pivotal part of your childhood.

But let's go back a bit first and get a few highlights. You came first in all three of your events in the ISKA tournament, sparring, sword fighting, and sumo. There were only three competitors in each event so it was a round robin style and you won each of your bouts. On paper it makes you state champion yet again, which I will never not find hilarious. You went on to absolutely nail your green belt grading, being one of only a few who knew it all on the day and didn't need the instructors giving hints or demonstrating. You're now up to your last tip on your green and will be heading for coloured tips next - I wonder if you'll be a brown belt for Christmas? Maybe the new year? You might be grading on the mats at the same time as Tricks!

Or maybe you'll take up a new sport? You've been getting in to rollerskating and rollerblading lately, after being gifted the coolest pair of pink sequined rollerskates from our friends. You will be having your first out-of-the-house birthday party at Rollerdrome on the weekend with a few of your friends and you can show off your new Rollerblades then, too.

You attended your first official concert with us as family at the ACDC Highway To Hell Tour extravaganza along Canning Highway. It was proof that bogan pride can in fact be genetically inherited. You. Did. Not. Stop! We joined in on smashing the Guinness World Record for the most air guitarists playing along at once, so don't forget to add that to your trophy cabinet - it's an air trophy so it won't take up much room. As the trucks rolled by with each new act you were on someone’s shoulders singing at the top of your lungs with your horns up, rocking out HARD. You got SO in to it that I could see flashes of your future (it was a bit scary). I thought you might get tired or bored but you did not stop the entire night, and partied all the way home too.

You started year one and it’s been a bit hit and miss. The work is easier because your last teacher saw how much you liked to be challenged and pushed you to go far. This year the assessments for IEPs only happened half way through term two and by then you were already bored and had gone backwards, and then a lil thing called Covid happened.

We did some awesome homeschool activities, went on mini adventures (before everyone else pulled out of school - so we had Perth to ourselves!), and played a lot. You and your brother came up with the most creative games. A favourite of mine was when your house was the swing set and his was the driveway - he came over, knocked on your door and asked if you'd like to hear about god! I guess you guys overheard me singing Book of Mormon songs.

You really quite liked isolation. You wrote letters to your friends and we delivered them on bikes. You and Tricks made rainbows on the driveway with chalk like every other kid in the world, and then spotted teddies on the 168 walks around the streets we did each week to escape the house. You found great amusement in watching your grandparents learn how to videocall, and of course, the whole Nanna throwing chocolate off her balcony to you shenanigans that I wrote about in Tricky's birthday letter.

There were many other things, but they have all been dwarfed by the death of our beautiful Sprocket. You two were inseparable from the moment he noticed you as a strange new lump of flesh in the house when you were barely 24 hours old. You are driven towards all animals, but Sprocket, although technically a family dog, was yours. You were the last of us to meet him and yet he became yours, and you his.

As his pain grew you would write him endless get well soon cards and shower him in even more attention (if that was even possible). There were a few times in the last 18months that he had been unwell and we thought it might be close, so you and I had many conversations about death and dying.

We all went to the vet to ask how much longer they thought he had, and the vet said if we were thinking of it enough for us to have all gone in together, it usually meant that the time was right. I had said we were just going to talk to the vet and then all of a sudden it was happening in a few hours - I regret it. I feel like I lied to you, even though I genuinely didn't think it was something they would just do. He was in pain, and it was the right thing to do. I'm so sorry.

You used your pocket money to buy a little yellow dog charm for Sprocket and we put it on his collar. It tinkled as he walked and you were so happy to see it there. Your favourite colour, your favourite animal on your favourite pet. We set about creating and cementing in memories in the few hours we had left with our boy. You walked him around slowly as his legs were very sore. You sat and cuddled. You shook hands. You fed him a naughty final meal, his first ever cheeseburger. You laughed. You cried. You would smile and then a sadness would wash over you as you realised these were all 'lasts' and you were about to lose your shadow. Your best friend.

We had spent many hours talking about death in the months leading up to this, so you knew what was happening... yet at the same time, you didn't. You pointed out that it was good we sat where we did because when it was time to go, the car was right there and he wouldn't have far to walk on his sore legs... but he wasn't coming home, my love.

You patted and snuggled him gently as he drifted off to sleep and you told him how much you loved him. When his heart stopped you climbed on top of him, sobbing, leaving tear stains on his fur.

After a while you sat up and started shaking his head, slowly at first then more insistent, as if trying to wake him. You jiggled his legs; checked his eyelids; lifted his face to yours and examined him. When he didn't respond, you climbed back on top of him, wrapping your arms and legs all the way around and would not move.

Dad and Tricks left, and it was you, your Perth Pop and I still there for a while; stroking his soft fur and trying to commit everything about his physicality to memory. After half an hour it was time to go. As long as I live I will never forget how tightly you held on to him. As soon as I'd get one arm off you'd cling back on, not wanting to leave your best friend behind. I had to physically pry you from him as you wailed. With your legs wrapped around my waist and your arms reaching over me for him, you screamed for him as we left the room.

In the car park you had what I can only describe as a panic attack. You were clawing at your throat and gasping that you couldn't breathe. I held on to you and cried with you, sheltering you from some of the comments being made by another person there. I showed you a photo of Sprocket on my phone and you calmed. In the tiniest voice you sang "Sprocky Sprocky ding ding". It was barely audible. Over and over again you sang it. You didn't say much else other than some yes and no answers; it felt like the only way you could communicate right then, so I just sung it back to you.

You created a shrine with pictures, cards and letters, all saying how much you love him and wish he would come back. Every single craft item you made was a dog. Every game you made up was about dogs. You made him from cardboard and brought him back to life in endless puppet shows. You made him from stacked kick shields and attached his lead. You wore his collar for weeks afterwards, sometimes even on outings, the little yellow dog charm you'd bought him tinkling as you walked. And you kept singing your soft, mournful Sprocky Sprocky ding ding song.

When his ashes arrived home you placed his collar around them and would not let them out of your sight. You fell asleep hugging them many nights and I still find them in your room sometimes. To this day he features in all your art work. You have asked me if you'll ever forget him and I can't imagine you ever will. You have a bond that not even death can break, my love. You carry him in your heart at every moment and I think you always will. Your heart has a dog-shaped hole in it, and you really want it to be filled. One day, baby girl. I promise.

You are smart and sassy, and much more sensitive than you make yourself out to be. You are as loud as can be and go one million miles an hour. You can’t stop talking, can’t sit still, and are distracted by anything and everything, particularly your own reflection! You make the silliest faces and half of our photos of you are so ridiculous it’s fantastic. You astound us daily with your vocabulary and understanding of the world around you. You are strong and resilient in the face of complicated medical issues that cause you to be in pain every day. You are confident and headstrong, kind natured and laugh-out-loud funny. You push all of my buttons and you make the world a better place. Happy seventh birthday, my pocket rocket missy moo.

Love Mum x

P.S. You're probably wearing glasses or contact lenses right now when you're reading this because with your genetics it's practically a given. They're annoying, right? I need you to know you chucked a little tanty the other week when you had an eye test and got 20/20 vision. You have worn fake glasses on and off for years to do important work and reading, and lately you've been wearing them as much as you can. You were so envious that Tricks was getting some and you weren't!

Letter to Tricky - ten years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Wed, 03 Jun 2020 22:38:00 +0000

MATE, YOU ARE TEN!

Two whole hands. Though it's been a few years since we've counted in hands, isn't it? You're a tween now and as I look back on photos, it is so hard to believe we have spent an entire DECADE loving you.

The last few months have been very strange. By the time you're reading this you'll probably go "oh yeah, that was the Covid19 year". We isolated early to protect you, your grandparents, and the community. You were sad to leave school as your teacher this year is amazing and has been the first to ever "see" you.

We had three amazing weeks of homeschooling. I genuinely adored it. You became pen pals with your friends down the road, baked, learned all about climate change, did amazing art, AMEB music, and went on socially-distant adventures. You rode your bike, played make believe, read books, did martial arts, and never have I been happier that your Dad and I have strict screen rules. You barely touched a screen (outside of education things like Reading Eggs and Mathletics) the whole time, instead using your marvellous imagination.

Our school holidays were unlike any we've ever had. Instead of going out every day to do an activity, we stayed home. And much to my surprise, you said you like it better. So I am keeping it in mind for next time. After a few more weeks it was time to go back to school... and you didn't want to go. Which was weird because your home teacher was very sweary and a bit shouty and your school teacher (your favourite teacher EVER) is never like that ;) But it was a lot safer now, and, well, after seven weeks with us all crammed together, I was hitting my limit. You and your sister can be annoying as fuck sometimes, either besties or bickering and picking on each other - but that's your job, you're a tween (but seriously, stop picking on your sister).

I hope you remember this strange time fondly. There has been some real shitty moments - being home all the time, in each other's faces has put a strain on everyone, and martial arts online has been VERY hard for you (and me). But there has been so much good. Like secret adventures, camping and bonfires in the backyard, picnics in the park and tying string to a bag and hoisting up presents to your grandparents on their third floor balcony. I really hope you remember Nanna saying she'd throw some chocolate down and us all shouting out no... only for her to do it and it land on the bloody awning below (a nice man got a ladder and rescued it!).

You have gotten in to body boarding - and it seems like we're at the beach every week now. You used your own money to buy a lime green board, even splurging for quick shipping (are you even my kid?). When you found out one of your besties body boards too, well, it was even more fun then. You are unrecognisable from the kid you were a few years ago. The kid who refused to get water on his face. Who screamed at every hair wash. Now? You're getting in the waves, getting dunked and loving it. A few times you've gotten out of the water and I've asked you "Hey, where did that kid go?" and you positively beam with pride. BEAM.

Your hair is past your shoulders (this week you were proud to have it long enough for a man bun). When people meet you for the first time, most of them call you a girl. "Girls, can you bring your books here" or at Christmas time "Did you want a photo of your girls with Santa?". You've shrugged it off. You and your sister have been raised as feminists and know that gender is displayed in myriad ways, and sometimes people make assumptions.

This time last year I said you were near your brown belt and now you are over half way through and nearing your black belt. You have four tips on your brown and despite this hiccup (the afore mentioned online classes being awful for you), it's likely still on track. Your Muay Thai grading is all over the shop thanks to continual administrative errors, and different people telling us different things – it has thrown you, but as it’s not your main discipline, you’ve been able to move on pretty quickly.

You entered two events in the latest ISKA tournament, coming first in traditional katas (Lull Before The Storm) and second in sparring - it was controversial, quite a few people thought you should have won, but things have fallen in your favour before when it came close to the line and this time it didn't. So we chalked it up as experience and focused on the fact that holy shit, you came second in a field of twelve in your "weakest" area, against a kid who had a good 10kg on you. You nailed that second and deserved your place on that podium.

You were chosen to be a part of the music program at school and selected trumpet, just like your dad. You wanted cello but I didn't want to lug one around - you can do that one later. For Christmas Dad passed his trumpet down to you and it's really cool to have it in the family. I always feel so proud when I hear you play, but dude, I’d love to hear it more. You HAVE to practice, mister! You've taught yourself piano... a friend showed you a piece he'd been learning in his piano classes and you copied him. So, that was, um, interesting. You watch YouTube, learn the pieces you like in a day or two, and commit them to memory. I'm astounded. You have musical genes, but bloody hell, mate.

Your perfectionist tendencies are still there, stronger than ever, and whilst they reflect very positively on your report card (almost straight As except for the C in sport which is hilarious since you're a brown belt), it causes you a great level of anxiety if you mess up. You like things to be right and pick on your sister if she gets things wrong, even though she hasn’t learned what you’ve learned yet. The mantra we say together now is “does it matter?” and you are getting better at thinking whether this grievance actually matters in the moment or if it’s something you can let slide (again, stop fucking picking on your sister - and don't you worry, I say this to her, too).

Our old boy, Sprocket died in January and it was an incredibly sad time. You were so brave. You patted him and said your goodbyes despite wanting to run away as far and as fast as you could. I was so proud of you for making the choice to stay in the room so he could be surrounded by his favourite people as he took his last breaths. Sprocket was older than you and you didn’t know a world without him in it. You weren’t besties with him like Bobbin, but you loved him, you loved him being around, and you miss him.

I wonder, as you’re looking back on this (are you 18? 19? when you’re reading this?) if you remember your toy giraffe Jeramy (yes, that’s how you spelled it). Jeramy was lost. You were absolutely devastated. You made him years ago at a school holiday bear workshop and had celebrated his birthday every year since. He was the only stuffed toy you ever paid any attention to, and when you realized he was gone we moved heaven and earth to find him. We pulled the house apart. Three times. I emailed local shopping centres and put out the call over Facebook in case anyone had found him. But he couldn’t be found. You wrote him a letter and it was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever read. You hoped he was safe; on an adventure instead of wet or burned or laying in the dirt somewhere. You apologised just in case you had done something to make him leave. You wrote about how he brought you comfort and held your secrets, and signed off saying you were his dad, that you’d always love him and that you’d never give up hope of finding him. You knew he was a toy and yet he was so much more. We still celebrated his birthday with a cake. It was a bittersweet day. After four months of him being gone you asked for a new soft toy and chose a Zebra, because it was the type of animal to hang out with giraffes. You called him Smartie. He sleeps in your bed and has brought you comfort as you’ve transitioned through these periods of grief and isolation stress.

Your resilience, in light of your struggles astounds me. Getting back up after the falls is what true resilience is, and whilst you might see it as being knocked down more than others, I see it as getting back up more than others. Many things are not easy for you, and you keep trying. It’s amazing. You’re fucking brilliant and I’m in awe of you. I know that you will continue to try and I will help you along the way as much as I can.

The next year will no doubt bring just as many highs and lows as this year. You’ll probably be roaming the streets with your mates, zooming around the bump tracks with Dad with your brand new bike (it’s red, it goes faster). Playing Rocket League and asking for more screen time. Kicking your way through the tips and ranks at martial arts. Powering through school and trumpet. Reading like there's no tomorrow and engineering some wild and creative construction with Lego. I am so privileged to be able to watch you grow. My kind, funny, thoughtful, smart, sensitive, sporty, focused, beautiful boy. I love you more than you could ever possibly know.

Mum x

Letter to Bobbin - six years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Tue, 27 Aug 2019 05:28:00 +0000

Hey Smalls,

Another year around the sun! You are six years old today. Another year stronger, smarter and taller.

It's been an up and down year for you (but that's usually the way for everyone, so that's ok).

You have developed a perfectionist streak. Your mother's daughter, hey? You are very focused on doing everything right and getting upset when you spell words wrong. I adore phonetic spelling, it shows that you understand sounds and we can all figure out what you mean - plus English is a stupid language where cough, through, plough, though and hiccough don't rhyme. So we've all been working on making it OK to make mistakes. I mean, you're on an IEP (Individual Education Plan) (yeah, your mama just used her blog to brag a bit then) along with a few others in your class because you're streaks ahead of where you should be for your age. You're reading proper books and you're not even in year one, mate. You're nailing it, kiddo, we just have to always remind ourselves that we don't have to be perfect.

Martial arts has been both amazing and scary for you. You're a blue belt and very close to green. You got a black tip in class today and now you only need your red tip to graduate. It would be very tricky to get that in the next two weeks, so you'll probably grade in December. Your pushups are killer - knuckles and toes, and you're very proud of the six pack that is starting to develop. You want to be strong and you are, always volunteering to lift things (including your friends).

You participated in the ISKA tournament (International Sport Karate Association) twice. The first time you took home a first in sword fighting making you the state champion for your age group... there were only two of you in the category but it sounds good! You ended up with two trophies at that one. Then the next tournament you got first in sword fighting again - defending your title! Again, only two people in your category but back to back state champion sounds better haha! You ended up with five placings over those two tournaments and proudly stood for photos with your trophies and medals.

Earlier this year, just after Mum was having a hard time with her brain misbehaving, you got very scared of going on the mats at the dojo. You didn't want to perform your kata in front of the group and the parents. It terrified you. No amount of convincing you that it was just like the tournaments would placate you. You would get on the mats and be fine until the end when you had to perform. You refused to get up. This transitioned to refusing to get on the mats and the beginning of class. You cried a lot. It took instructors, Sempais, Senseis and even a Renshi to get you on the mats. It was the same every time for almost two whole months, refusing to get on the mats. You even hated in the in-house tournament and took a lot of convincing to get on. You did, and I was so proud of you. You didn't place, but you did your absolute best that you could on the day, and that's why I was so proud.

The struggles continued at the beginning of class, but once you were on the mats, you were completely fine and would smash out the session, trying so hard and nailing it. And you even filmed a pep talk to yourself after one lesson because you would come off the mats beaming. I started filming and it was like you were a TV presenter - straight in to it! I laughed so hard. If I'm honest, I think the tears became a habit for you. You worked hard with your instructors and you got through it. You're back on the mats now without issue... but you don't want to do the next ISKA tournament in a few weeks. And that's OK. Life can be tough and we don't always have to win... we don't even have to enter!

You continue to exert your independence. So much so that one day earlier this year you decided to walk to school. By yourself. You usually wait at the bottom of the bridge for me when we walk, but you didn't this time. You kept going. The thing is, I didn't know which way you'd gone. I looked everywhere for you. Up and down the small streets, and then the bigger street. I was so afraid I'd find you squished by a car as sometimes when you're excited you forget to look both ways. We did finally find you. One kilometre away. In your classroom. By then I was crying and you didn't know what the fuss was about, but when you saw my tears you cried too, giving me the biggest of hugs and promising you wouldn't do it again.

You love to make your own food. Whether it's sandwiches, wraps or just cutting up fruit, you insist on doing it yourself. Up until recently you were scared of being burnt on the frying pan, but you got past it and flipped your own pikelets - the look on your face when you did it was just brilliant. You were unbelievably proud. I admit to still worrying that you'll slice your hand open, but so far so good.

Crafting absolutely anything is your go-to activity. Give you paper, scissors and sticky tape (lord, so much sticky tape!) and you are happy. In fact, you got sticky tape as a birthday present and you were SO HAPPY! You make me the most random creations and they are divine. Giant posters with bits stuck on. 3D castles with entire packets of stickers over them. Then you head outside, jump about playing "Jumanji", zoom up and down the street on your bike, climb the nearest tree, flip up and down on monkeybars, and climb on the roof of any playground structure, terrifying other parents watching. I just shrug and know you'll get down safe because climbing is what you do.

Your obsession with all creatures great and small continues. You've gone off your original Spiny Leaf Insects (they are apparently too spiny to touch now so you don't), but you don't mind their babies that are small. Other than those, you pick up or pat everything you can. Catching frogs is your favourite thing to do so sometimes we go down to the local lake at night with our headlamps on and see how many we can find. You are quick at catching them, hold them for a moment then release them, usually after naming them.

You are bloody funny. You make me laugh so much with your weird antics. Whether it's quick retorts with the beginnings of sarcasm (that's my girl), a raised eyebrow, or a silly story, your sense of humour is developing rapidly. The fart jokes are still popular, as is you introducing your farts. As in you say "Here comes Frank" and then you fart loudly and laugh your head off. It's a different name every time.

That Queen Bee tendency is still there, but you have such an empathetic soul that it has balanced out to a nice assertive quality. You like to get what you want, but you also take care of your friends. And I'm not gonna lie, that's been a weight off my shoulders. Not to say you can't be a little turd sometimes when you don't get your way, but you're not mean. PHEW!

You care deeply for your family, and you express it bringing flowers, cards and any trinkets you've found as gifts. You are thoughtful, and always share willingly with Tricky, even halving your own things with him (y'all fight a lot, too, it's not all rainbows). When I was bed-bound after my ankle surgery you would come and check on me, give me a cuddle each time you walked past, and bring me food just because you were hungry and thought I might be, too.

I was trying to explain Harmony Day to you, and how racism exists and I did a really poor job of it... so for a moment there you thought it was a day to exclude your friends according to their skin colour. You were very upset at me, saying you didn't want to not talk to your friends that day because they were darker than you. A quick explanation later and you were so relieved- and I could not have been happier. Every day we talk about what's important, and you always reply "it doesn't matter what you look like or what you do, as long as you're kind". Because we've repeated it to you daily and it's a Pavlovian response now! Ha! I hope that stays with you. Both for how you treat others and how you treat yourself.

I hope you have a brilliant year of being six, my chickadee. I promise you'll have your mermaid party soon, when I'm back walking properly. Your sass is still there, just sometimes hidden under a thin layer of self-doubt. We'll keep working on that. You'll make some amazing mistakes this year, and over your whole life, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Love Mama x

Letter to Tricky - nine years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Tue, 04 Jun 2019 03:11:00 +0000

Hey Bigs,

Your mama doesn't blog anymore, but the idea of not writing you a birthday letter just did not sit well with me. So here goes.

You are nine. You are so big, and wise, and worldly, and yet, at the same time, you're small, meek, and naive. It has been fascinating watching you navigate this inbetween stage. Giving you more and more independence and watching you navigate the world by yourself. You're not a little kid anymore, but, well, you are, actually.

Martial arts continues to be your passion. You have dedicated so many hours to it, training eight times per week right now, getting each tip on your green belt at the first possible opportunity, and you've now progressed to Grading Prep Group to get you ready for your brown belt grading in September. It's gonna be big, and you're very nervous, but you have the support of us, your instructors and your dojo family. You have started Muay Thai to improve your sparring confidence, and each class you get in there and try so hard, despite being absolutely terrified. We haven't managed a class without tears yet, and I am amazed at how much resolve you have, to keep getting back in there. I think this time next year I'll be writing about how you've started preparing for your black belt.

You entered the ISKA tournament again, participating in three events; extreme weapons, traditional katas, and traditional weapons, taking home a first, first and fourth respectively. You've qualified again for the national championships - we didn't go last year but we'll see what we can do about getting over to Sydney this year since you placed first.

Our house continues to be the place to meet for the kids in the street and each time the doorbell rings I don't even bother getting up because it's almost always for you, and when it's not, it's for your sister. It's a ragtag bunch of kids with different age groups from different schools, but you all seem to get along pretty well; whether you're riding the streets, doing tricks on the ramp in the front yard, or playing computer games.

You are a voracious reader and are zooming through anything Paul Jennings at the moment. You love going to the library with your Dad, but most of the time he ends up picking the books while you play with the retro gaming machines and smart board. You love to play all the Retro Rewind games, Minecraft, Lego City Undercover (against Bobbin), and whatever else the games are called. You even play Race Day against me and you manage to hide your frustration at how bad I am pretty well. The one time I beat you, you were so happy for me. If Bobbin beats you, that's another story. We'll work more on losing this year, bud.

You are doing well at school, being awarded Aussie of the Month by your peers for being a kind and approachable friend, nailing NAPLAN to get in the pointy triangle for most of the sections and band 6 for the other one. You've taken to music with much enthusiasm and have played countless pieces on a tiny electronic keyboard that you got ages ago as part of a science wiring kit. Oh, and let's not forget that fucking recorder. Hot Cross Buns at any time after 8am. I don't want to stifle your musicality or creativity, but sweet jesus I will if you play a loud instrument when I'm barely conscious. Today you were given a big electronic keyboard and your face just lit up. You want piano lessons but you're not willing to give up a martial arts day just yet, so we'll see how we go later in the year after you've graded.

There just isn't enough hours in the day to do all the things you want to do! Skateboarding, scooting, bike riding, martial arts, gaming, drawing, music, LEGO, reading... and let's not forget annoying your sister. That takes dedication, too.

Anxiety can kick your butt sometimes. You are your mother's son, after all. So we have worked hard on growth mindset talk, and I bring in cognitive behavioural therapy tricks at every opportunity - I figure you learning these now can only be a bonus. We sought professional help as I was very worried you'd end up just like me, but they were pretty good at allaying my fears, letting me know that yes, you are a bit or a worrier and a huuuge perfectionist, but that doesn't mean you will go down the same path as me, mental health wise. You have a strong sense of self and a strong connection and trust with me, so you have a much better starting off place than me.

I am trying my hardest to model making mistakes and pushing through the tough times, and I really hope the message gets through that you are enough no matter what you do. We are celebrating your failures more than your successes right now to emphasise the message. "You went to martial arts and cried and got back on the mats even though it was tough? YEAH! WELL DONE!". Of course I'm proud of the times you do great, but I know just how hard it is for you to push through those self doubts, so that is what I'm focusing on. The strength and bravery you show to keep pushing through your doubts and anxieties is truly inspiring.

You are responsible, caring, goofy, resilient, silly, smart, creative, strong, dedicated and amazing. I can't believe how lucky we are to have you in this family. You bring so much joy to my life, and whilst I roll my eyes that I still sit with you for you to go to sleep, I know one day I'll miss you asking for "mum cuddles" every night. I hope I continue to be your safe space and soft place to land.

Love you, bud.

Mum x

19 Resolutions for 2019

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Mon, 31 Dec 2018 05:38:00 +0000

I haven't done any New Year's Resolutions for what seems like forever. Nothing official, anyway. There's always the same ol' "do better" bullshit that lasts a few days, but I'm going to toy with the idea of writing shit down to see if it magically keeps me accountable.

But my Resolutions are not going to be the type that shame the current me (or you, which I ridiculously have to say because INTERNET - just because I'm saying I want to do something doesn't mean I'm automatically judging you for NOT wanting to do it. OK? Are we clear? Because the hate mail that comes with a blog is a HUGE reason why I don't update this very much).

So, where was I? Ah, yes. Resolutions. Things to hopefully tick off as another year zooms by.

19 Resolutions for 2019

1. Stream of Consciousness Journaling
I have done this before years ago and recently restarted after a little mini yoga retreat. It was confronting, cathartic and empowering. Setting the clock for ten minutes and just writing out all the rubbish in my head.

2. Weekly Scheduling
It is boring AF but I want a washing day. A clean sheet day. I want it all planned out and I want to tackle it in a no excuses way. We have sports days and library days already, so it isn't a lofty goal. The issue is my champion procrastination skills getting in the way. A super pretty calendar will help, yeah?

3. Meditate and Breathe
I've been using Headspace and Kardia a little bit over the last few months and I want this to continue but in a more regular fashion. I introduced it to my little stresshead Tricky, too, so perhaps we can set aside time each week to do it together. With Bobbin in full time school in 2019 (wait, what?) I can do it solo too.

4. Yoga
I have dipped in and out of the Yoga pool over the years, doing it through pregnancies and in between, and always found that because I'm so bendy I tend to overstretch to feel anything. So I'd like to start doing Yoga, even if it's just joining in with the Cosmic Kids Yoga I make Tricky and Bobbin do, and listen more to my body as it is happening. Don't over do it just because I can.

5. Martial Arts
I have been doing Freestyle Martial Arts for 18 months now. Woah. Did anyone think I'd stay at it this long!? Not I! I had a few months off with a torn calf muscle (OUCH!) that saw me on crutches and off to physio for a while, and I'm out right now with torn ankle ligaments but I am aiming for my green belt this year. The belt is more psychological for me than anything because I still don't feel like I deserve to be a blue. I'm not a great blue belt, but I have passed every test to get there and train twice a week, yet I can't shake this imposter syndrome. Not giving up, training harder... that's gotta help, right?

6. Buy Less Shit
I'm a frugal gal by nature. I don't buy expensive clothes or shoes (my sandals are seven years old), because I'm just not in to fashion. I can look at the beautiful people and appreciate their aesthetic, double tap to like their frock, but I generally don't go out and buy it. I find it such a waste of money. My downfall is cheap shit. Bargains that I don't need. I'm aiming to make more conscious spending choices this year, which may end up meaning the things I do buy are more expensive but higher quality and will last.

7. De Clutter
I haven't gone through the kids' wardrobes since we moved house. Bobbin has a bunch of crop tops that look on trend, but are actually just two sizes too small. Getting to this before winter is a must.

8. Organise The Garage
There isn't too much in the way of storage in our house and that's a good thing because it means less crap. We have had to be ruthless and I love that we don't have as much "stuff" anymore. I've added a little storage; some shelves here, a hook there, but I want to tackle the garage. I need shelving for the long term no touch items - like Christmas decorations, seven years of tax receipts and that sort of thing. I have a drill and I'm not afraid to use it. It will be done. There will much Instagramming of me holding said drill.

9. Sleep
I let y'all know that I had a sleep study recently and the results were absolutely atrocious. Well, the good news is I've got a sleep apnoea machine now. My Continuous Positive Airway Pressure or CPAP machine sits next to my bed and I am vowing to use it every night. The only night I have missed so far was when I didn't actually go to bed, so that doesn't count. I have so much more energy, and my circadian rhythms are even starting to even out. I do have about twenty years of sleep debt to catch up on, so I'm still a little bit tired, but waking up feeling refreshed is EARTH SHATTERING AMAZING. After the first night I said to MapGuy "I can see in colour now" and I meant it. Everything is brighter. I am hoping it continues to improve from here too. I'm still embarrassed, but I need to keep going.

10. Get Closer To Nature
The past twelve months I've been booking the kids in to nature camps and trying to facilitate their love and respect for the environment and as a result it has encouraged MapGuy and I even more. We've always been big recyclers, but now we are better recyclers (making trips to the local recycling centre to take all those things that don't go in the general recycling bin), have two thriving worm farms, and of course the beloved Spiny Leaf Insects. But I want more! I really want to head out to the lake more often, to cycle around it and just see what is there; how it changes over the seasons. Visit the beach and watch the sunset just because. The kids play outside a lot, but I'm always inside. I need to get out.

11. Less Phone Time
I have my head buried in my phone too much. I use it as a distraction tool when I'm feeling overwhelmed, which is fine, but then it becomes habit to pick it up. Randomly scrolling through Facebook turns in to clicking an article, then another, and another. Looking at Instagram is no big deal... but then I'll log on to my work accounts to check them and get distracted doing work things when I should be present in the moment. My phone is usually always on silent and most notifications are off - only text messages get through, so I just have to PUT IT DOWN.

12. New Pet
I don't know if this really counts as a resolution, but I definitely want it to happen! I have had my eye on a new pet for about twelve months. It's a Bearded Dragon. They are the cutest little things and I was lucky enough to hold one recently and it absolutely cemented my love. They are cute and quirky, which puts it right up my alley. I have to get a license, so that is the first step. It's pretty down there in terms of priorities, so if it doesn't happen it won't be awful, but it is on the list.

13. Finish The Home Office
Our master bedroom in the new house is a big one with a small walk in robe, so to better use the space we added a wall of wardrobes and I've turned the walk in robe in to a little office. I have a desk and some drawers, plus some organizational tubs just crying out for new stationery, heh.

14. Become More Active In The Buy Nothing Community
I'm an admin on my local Buy Nothing page because I love the concept so much. Making community bonds stronger while clearing my house of unused bits and pieces. Win win! I want to put more things on the page to give away after the big de-clutter works.

15. Go To The Dentist
It's been a few years. Oops. With all the dental work MapGuy needed after his bike crash, then finding out this year that after zero issues with his baby teeth that Tricky's adult teeth are coming in without enamel and will need ongoing work (and has already been under GA to have a crown to stop any further deterioration of one tooth, the poor thing), I put myself on the back burner. Because mum life amiright? I WILL GO THIS YEAR. Just as soon as I save some money.

16. Eat Less Meat
I'm not becoming vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination, but eating less meat is great for the environment so I want to do that. We generally try for Meatless Monday, but I think we need to throw in a few extras, too. I'm not the head chef here, so this suggestion was MG's as he's the one who will be doing it. I am boring with food and he likes it a little more exotic, so he cooks!

17. Shout Less
I am a shouter, I admit. I can keep my cool, and very nicely discipline my children most of the time, but at least once a day I can get a bit shouty. I parent a lot with sarcasm, which is probably not fabulous either, but let's focus on one thing at a time. I'm hoping the meditation can help with this, and the CPAP machine is already helping because a tired Glow is a shouty Glow. I went to a parenting seminar last year and it was very reaffirming in that I'm doing a pretty good job in the non-shouty times.

18. Eat More Mindfully
I'm not going to promise myself to eat less sugar or carbs, or just less food, because hello it's me. I did give up sugar once and the results were fab, but food is also a huge tool for me when I'm stressed so just saying I won't eat xyz anymore is not an option. I want to eat more mindfully though. Recognize when I'm stress-eating or binge-eating and instead of beating myself up, perhaps bring in a more appropriate coping mechanism. A bad day will end in me eating an entire block of chocolate, so this year I'd like to have a bit of chocolate, then stop, recognize the thoughts, whip out the journal, flick on the meditation app, have a bath, do something other than finish the entire block. Even if that means only having half that will be a win.

19. Cycle More
We are so lucky to live less than 2km from the kid's school and whilst we can't cycle every day due to needing to go straight from school to sport after school, but we can do it twice a week and I'd really like to make that a priority. Tricky rides his bike all around the suburb to his friends' houses but Bobbin is too young to go out solo, so I need to lift my game and go with her either on the bike or the scooter.

So there we have it. 19 for 2019. It's a challenge but also very doable. I figure if I can get through the shit of the past few years then I can get through at least some of the things well, and maybe even half arse the rest.

Do you make resolutions?

Names on bank accounts don't matter. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 13 Dec 2018 04:54:00 +0000

I have a story to tell you. It's been twelve months in the making because it's taken me this long to get over the trauma.

A combination of time and my go to coping mechanism of humour means I can now make bad jokes about it, but I can tell you at the time I was rocking in the corner.

Lemme take you back to December 2017...

via GIPHY
They say buying a house is one of the most stressful life events and I can 100% confirm this.

We had been looking at houses on and off in our preferred high school catchment. Our record was 13 houses in one day, expertly scheduled by MapGuy. We were having a weekend off looking while we did some Christmassy things and checked out Santa's Enchanted Wardrobe. Spoiler: it was Narnia and it was awesome. While we waited for the kids to finish the last of their play, MapGuy was checking his phone and saw a house in the suburb we were eyeing off was having its first home open... if we left now, with a 25 minute drive, we could get there five minutes before it closed.

Lock and load, baby, let's do it.

We got there and raced in. We liked what we saw. It ticked a lot of boxes. Great, quiet street. Close to public transport. A bit of yard. Four bedrooms. Modern (after renovating we didn't want to do it again!). It was 1.5km from the primary school and 1km from the high school we wanted the kids to go to. It was small and didn't have a pool - tick, tick and tick. We don't like giant houses where you might not see each other for days, and we didn't want a pool because of the hassle and expense, but, you know, feel free to invite me to yours.

A few days later after double checking finance we put an offer in and the agent was pretty dismissive of it, thinking it too low (well duh, it's her job to get them the highest price) but rang back that night to say it had been accepted. That was twelve months ago this week.

It was time to get the finance locked down. This is where shit gets cray. Try to keep up.

My parents had sold us our previous house (they had built it in the 1970s and I grew up in it - you should click this for super cute pictures of Bubba Glow) and our loan was through them. We had about $100k left owing to them. They had just sold their investment property and their home was on the market getting ready for their new house that they'd move to in the new year. So they had a chunk of cash sitting in the bank and my Dad offered to loan us $50k to put a deposit on the house, go toward all the fees, and to get us over the line with the bank loan that wouldn't quite cover the cost of this house we wanted. He'd be repaid the full original loan plus the new loan on the sale of our house, which was expected to be (and was) in early Feb.

With me?

So I told my Dad our bank details and he set about transferring a head spinning FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to us for this super short term loan.

The transfer should have been pretty quick, but the money wasn't showing up no matter how many times I refreshed.

So we double checked the account number.

You guessed it.

I told him the wrong number.

I was out by one digit.

I can honestly say I have never felt such terror.

My mind started to spin, the room grew dark and I fought off fainting. I could feel my body flush with adrenaline. I retched over and over, standing in my kitchen with my Dad as he too was processing that he'd possibly just transferred a shit tonne of money to a stranger.

I fell to the floor and struggled for air. It was all very dramatic and if I'd started beating my chest no one would have been surprised.

Tricky and Bobbin, had come running on hearing the commotion, and asked what was wrong.

I tried so hard to hold it together.

"I've just lost some of Pop's money so I'm a bit upset."

Bobbin ran off somewhere and Tricky rubbed my back reassuringly and said as many comforting things as he could think of as I sat on the ground with a few tears down my running down my cheeks.

Bobbin came back and handed me the 20c she had gotten earlier in the week.

"Here, Mum, you can have this."

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Yep. All the ugly crying you can imagine. I cried so loud I scared them.

My Dad was holding it together, saying it would be OK, but I could see from the tension in his jaw that he was pissed. And rightly so.

It was past 5pm so I couldn't contact the bank. Even the emergency numbers couldn't help me at all. I texted my bestie and let her know what happened, needing to share the burden with someone. She rang me back immediately (possibly our second ever phone conversation since we are text peeps) and all I could do was sob in to her ear. She spoke quickly but calmly, saying that she was going to put her husband on as he's an accountant.

He reassured me the likelihood of the number being an actual account was super low. He told me all the times that people write down the wrong number on a form, or key it in wrong, and it bounces back after a day or two. Even with garbled replies between sobs, he kept repeating how it was so extremely unlikely that it would go through. And it is unlikely. I'm told the way accounts are set up they generally don't have consecutive numbers, so getting the final digit wrong by one like I did, should be cool in most cases.

There was much crying and wailing over how stupid I was, but this is already going to be a huge story so I'll fast forward to the next morning.

At 5am I rang my east coast Bank #1 to find out what I could do from this end. I needed to know if it was a real account or if the money would ping back like it does 99% of the time. For privacy reasons they couldn't tell me anything and much to their credit they listened to me cry about it. On hearing how much money it involved the person on the phone asked me to tell her the number that had been entered accidentally. She typed it in and I'll never forget what she said:

"Privacy laws prevent me from telling you if this is an account... but I'd get Bank #2 to stop payment IMMEDIATELY if I were you."

Cue breakdown in 3, 2, 1...

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I rang Bank #2 (my Dad had been doing the same thing over at his place) to be informed that that I couldn't speak to anyone in the Accidental Idiotic Internet Transfers Department because they had closed for the Christmas break, but would I like them to call me back on the 6th of January?

The most awful noise I've ever heard escaped my lips and I started to violently shake again. The person on the phone tried to reassure me that it was illegal to spend money accidentally put in an account to which I strangled out between sobs "that.... never.... stopped..... anyone..... beforreeeeeeeeee" at which point I successfully became his weirdest phone client ever.

All I could think was that someone would get a nice $50k bonus in their bank account, withdraw it all, spend up big and we'd spend years trying to get it back and end up with a random $2 a week pay back scheme set up by the court.

Every person I spoke to was genuinely trying to help, but no one could. One even called me back later just to check on me. Which OF COURSE meant I cried some more.

At the same time that this was happening, our loan had not yet been approved because most of the staff at Bank #3 (there are four banks in this story) had gone on leave already and it hadn't even been marked as received yet. The days were ticking away and the day to have finance sorted by was zooming toward us. We had an emergency meeting with our broker who advised us to put in a brand new application with Bank #4 because it was obvious that Bank #3 just didn't give a shit at this time of year.

Thank fuck for that because Bank #4 got on it right away and we had pre-approval in hours and full approval in a day... but without that $50k, we wouldn't be able to do anything.

Insanely, my Dad had another $50k in the bank (if you remember from up the top he'd just sold his house and wasn't buying the new one until Feb, so he had a super healthy bank account for a while there) and said he'd transfer it over.

At this point Bank #2 called me and said "the money has gone in!!". Is that not the best customer service? He'd been monitoring the account, probably out of morbid curiosity. At which point I had to explain it was a different $50k and he no doubt went away mumbling about rich people problems.

Because who has $100,000 that they can just transfer around willy nilly? Usually we don't, it was just this random set of circumstances that meant we did.

I spent my birthday in a pit of despair. I was helping ticket sales for a school function and even pay pass transactions made me nervous. If there was a way for it to go wrong, I'd find it! I would over charge people. Or refund people that weren't meant to be. You name it, if it was bad, I was thinking it.

I was responsible for losing more money than I had ever contemplated. And it wasn't even my money to lose. I'd lost my Dad's money. I forced myself to put on a brave face for the most part, and threw myself in to advent activities for the kids.

The next week I had to transfer money to a friend and I had a genuine trauma reaction when putting the numbers in. Nauseated and trembling I quadruple checked, then quadruple checked again, sweating bullets as I hit transfer on a piddly $20. Thankfully this reaction hasn't continued.

Christmas day came and went, and whilst I do think I faked it well, it was always the first thought I had every morning; the last thought every night; and at least half my waking thoughts each day. It consumed me.

Finally, in the second week of January, when were packing up the old house getting ready to move in a few weeks time, I got the call I'd been waiting for. My Dad informed me the money was back in his account.

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If you take anything away from this, I want it to be that you should not try to buy a house at Christmas time; always check the account number at least fourteen times before you give it to someone or hit transfer; and to never, ever, under any circumstances, lend me money.

I just won the "I'm tired" competition

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 29 Nov 2018 11:54:00 +0000

So much for the year of content, hey?

Not long after being all "yeah, this is gonna be it, I'm actually gonna blog" I took on a few new social media clients. And then I decided I really wanted to make a go of the new side hustle Perth school holiday project. And we moved house, yaddah yaddah yaddah. You know, life.

I was so exhausted by April that I was struggling to keep up with everything. I am so bone achingly exhausted that it is effecting all my day to day interactions and my stress levels. Plus I've fallen asleep driving more times than I care to mention. If it's a 15 minute trip I'm good... any longer and I need toothpicks to prop open my eyelids. All our Albany trips we make? I never drive. MG has always done it solo.

I had all the thyroid and iron tests and asked a few times about sleep studies because I'm a massive chainsaw snorer and have been since forever. Side note: when I travelled to Bali with my bestie, I recommended separate rooms because I snore SO LOUD and she was all "we'll be fine" thinking I was exaggerating... she had to go buy ear plugs the next day and I'm pretty sure she'll never travel with me again. An "I told you so" was forthcoming.

My tiredness was put down to my depression and anxiety. Which is a pretty fair call, to be honest. But I was annoyed that even when pushing so hard with martial arts (my version of "pushing hard" is not necessarily the same for others), and doing all the sleep hygiene, and getting my head sorted with meditation, counselling etc, that I was just getting more and more tired every day.

For years I put it down to Tricky's sleep habits; always coming in to our bed or wanting me in his. The constant disruptions would of course mean constant tiredness. Then we got him sleeping better with the help of paediatric sleep specialist and melatonin... and while he still wakes multiple times a night, he's better at getting himself back to sleep and will only come to snuggle a few times a week now. SO why am I still so tired?

I pushed for a sleep study again. Without any high blood pressure or heart disease, they don't really wanna know you, but I pushed nonetheless, knowing I was likely getting a lil hypochondriac stamp on my file.

Last week I wired myself up for an at home sleep study. If you'd like to feel like a cross between a radio and a bomb, then I'd highly recommend it. Ironically, it's not easy to sleep during a sleep study.

View this post on Instagram

Dude, I blogged my sleep study results. 😴 This lil sleep study vid got so many giggles in my stories so I thought I'd share it with the rest. Live link in bio x

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@wheres.my.glow) on Nov 29, 2018 at 4:02am PST

(Look at that half mo, coming along. You can donate to MG's Movember fundraiser here)

Fast forward a week from my sexy wired-for-sound study, today I got the results.

It's normal for everyone to have a few sleep apneas a night, where you stop breathing for at least 10 seconds. Less than five an hour is fine. 6-15 is mild, 16-29 is moderate, and anything over 30 is severe sleep apnea.

I had an average of 51 episodes an hour over all positions, and 60 episodes an hour when laying on my back. Some of them lasting up to 40 seconds each time.

Yep. Once a minute. Knocking my oxygen down to the mid 70% range and making my heart go all over the shop, spiking and plummeting so much the graph looks like a rollercoaster.

I felt like shouting out I TOLD YOU I WAS TIRED!

Instead a few tears sprang to my eyes for three reasons:

1. It's me. I always fucking cry.

View this post on Instagram

"Why do you always wear tshirts with writing?" "So I don't have to talk to people" 🤷‍♀️

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@wheres.my.glow) on Nov 15, 2018 at 12:28am PST

2. I had this strange sense of validation; a triumphant "I'm not lazy!" despite having to have more rests and naps than anyone I know.

3. Because it is SO treatable. CPAP and weight loss. And funnily enough, I'm told with CPAP comes weight loss because your body starts working like it never has before. But that remains to be seen cos I really like Malteasers. And chips. And nachos. And icecream. And everything else high in sugar and fat and whatever it is that is evil this month.

My consultant passed me a tissue and said she was blindsided that the results were so extreme. Someone my age and weight/neck circumference would be expected to have a mild sleep apnea at worst. Well hoo-fucking-ray for my soft palate going above and beyond expectations.

I walked out of the appointment with a hired CPAP machine to test out and I start tonight. I wonder if MG will find me as beautiful with a long tube pumping air up nostrils as he did when I had electrodes spot welded to my head?

I'm nervous and not looking forward to the physical side of sleeping with a mask on, but I'm genuinely excited. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I have no idea how the world will feel in a body that isn't exhausted. This has been me as long as I can remember. Perhaps my chronic pain levels will lessen? I'm apparently getting zero sleep in the repair your cells bit and I'm over here like no shit. Maybe my mood will be become more stable? And global warming will cease and Trump will be impeached? One can only hope.

It's still thought of as an old man's disorder (or a preemie baby disorder - nothing like going for extreme ends of the spectrum), and you know how I feel about stigmas, so I'm sharing it with you even though I'm a bit embarrassed. Got your own apnea story to share? Tell me!

Letter to Bobbin - five years old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Sun, 26 Aug 2018 14:57:00 +0000

My little Bobbin,

You are FIVE. A whole hand. Wowzers.

It has been quite a year for you, m'dear. You are still the most strong willed, persistent and independent kid I've ever met. Your tenacity challenges me daily, and yet I wouldn't have you any other way.

If there is a something that can be climbed, you're right at the top... and if there is something that shouldn't be climbed, well, you're right at the top then, too. You are most at home hanging, swinging, climbing, and generally being a daredevil. Which came in handy when Tricky left his scooter at school one weekend and you climbed over the fence to get it for us. Your first felony, at only four. Oh dear.

A few months ago you learned to ride your bike without training wheels after begging me for ages to take them off. You'd always leaned over on them quite a bit, so I wondered how you'd go... but I needn't have worried because you just zoomed off. Stopping took a bit of extra practise though. Then when that was mastered twenty minutes later you were off down the ramps, up the kerbs, and pretended to run me over. Such a sweetheart you are.

You have being doing martial arts for a year now, and as of today you can officially join junior white belts... except you joined eight months ago because you found the Ninja Ru class a bit boring and wanted more. So you're an orange belt! The youngest in the class. You zoomed through white and yellow, but you're realising that orange is a bit more hard core and are having to put in more effort. You've been doing shoulder throws and usually once a week I hope you don't use it at school. It will be a great skill to have for the career you STILL want, nearly 18 months after first mentioning it - police officer.

You're in kindy! Hooray! You love it so much and have made some lovely friends. You go five days a fortnight and have been learning letters and spelling small words, and each day you demand we play the alphabet game and that I give you addition and subtraction sums. We are working hard on that Queen Bee streak in you, making sure you don't become Regina George of your school! You are trying so hard, and have a strong sense of justice, but you do not suffer fools gladly. If you are bored with what is being taught or what one of the kids is talking about you show it - but tact is learned, and you'll get there.

You are obsessed with animals. All animals, but especially dogs. Sprocket is your best friend and he knows who to come to for extra cuddles if he needs them. You will make a bee line to anything furry and smother it with affection, the world gentle is said many a time, because you are so full of love for them. Smooching and cuddling whichever poor unsuspecting pet is nearby. You adore bugs and will pick up any creepy crawly you come across after checking it won't hurt you. We have had a play with a friend's Spiny Leaf Insects a few times and you got two for your birthday today! You were SO excited and have got them out of their enclosure to crawl all over you countless times today.

Because of your love for dogs, your birthday party today was a Puppy Pawty, where each guest made a stuffed toy dog - you and stuffed toys, oh boy, you can't get enough. We made collars for pups, weighed and measured them for their birth certificates, and enjoyed a game of Pin The Tail On The Puppy, and Pass The Parcel before delving in to Pup Corn, Pawtato Chips, Pup-eroni Pizza, Hot Dogs, and a bloody amazing Puppy cake (if I do say so myself!). We could only invite a few people (budget!), but you declared it the best birthday party ever and even talked about it in your sleep when I went to tuck you in just now.

You love to make people feel better, and the way you know how to do that is to make them a card. If anyone is upset you RUN to the craft trolley and start feverishly writing a card for them (usually with drawing of you and the person, hearts and the first letter of their name). You even wrote one for Sprocket when he hurt his leg, and laid with him to show him... you cried at the thought of Sprocket being unwell and laid with him, crying big, fat, silent tears on to his fur.

You nudge at boundaries at every opportunity. Never usually a hard push, just a little test nudge, to see what will happen. You're like the Raptor testing the fences! You are so determined, often singing "just keep trying" to yourself when you fail, so I admit to loving it when you nudge those boundaries.

Keep pushing, my pocket rocket, because those boundaries will be glass ceilings one day, and you'll have all the know how and experience to shatter them.

Love Mama x

WIN Disney on Ice Tickets Perth

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 07 Jun 2018 01:54:00 +0000

Celebrate the legacy of Disney when ‘Disney On Ice celebrates 100 Years of Magic’ at Perth Arena, June 15 - 17

I am giving away 2x 4 A Reserve tickets to the opening night: Friday, June 15 at 7pm at Perth Arena (each x4 tickets being valued at $180 at date of posting comp)

For your chance to be there as Mouse-ster of Ceremonies, Mickey Mouse, leads a parade of beloved characters in this new show, simply:

Head to Facebook and Instagram to enter!

You can purchase tickets to the show through Ticketek: http://premier.ticketek.com.au/shows/show.aspx?sh=DISNEYIC18&v=WPA

For more info on the show visit http://disneyonice.com.au

T&Cs:

You must be a liker/follower of Where's My Glow to enter.

Name your favourite Disney character

Tag three friends who love Disney!

Winners will be drawn on 13/06/18 at 7pm AWST. Winners must collect their tickets from the box office at Perth Arena prior to the 7pm show on Friday the 15th of June 2018 (photo ID will be required). Applicants must be over 18 to enter.

Tickets cannot be exchanged for other performances or cash/credit.

Letter to Tricky - Eight Years Old

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Mon, 04 Jun 2018 01:50:00 +0000

Oh, my sweet, gorgeous, amazing boy, today you are EIGHT!

It has been an up and down year filled with changes for you, and more often than not, you've faced them head on and come out triumphant on the other side.

This time last year you were a yellow belt about to graduate up to orange. Well you hit orange and in the time that followed you were asked to join the elite training squad, the Black Belt Club. All blue belts get invited to BBC, but only a few orange belts, so you were pretty chuffed to be invited early. You adore BBC - they do all sorts of weapons training and fancy kicks. You have a bo, tonfa and sai now. You also have a nerf gun now because I figured my "no guns in the house" rule was pretty hypocritical if I was giving you actual weapons.

You went up through orange, and though not many people reading this today will understand, when you're bigger you'll know what I mean when I say you "double tipped" to earn your final black tip and red tip in one week, meaning you could graduate to blue belt a bit early. Right now you're trying to do the same thing for green belt. I'm not entirely sure you know just how full on green belt will be, but you have it in your head that green is THE BELT to get. For you it signifies that you're more than just a kid mucking around in the dojo; it's a sport that you take seriously.

Twice you have participated in ISKA tournaments now. The first time you were super nervous and we signed you up so that you could get an idea of what these tournaments were like. In my mind I was thinking you wouldn't do that well and it would be a great lesson in failing - I think kids need to learn how to fail, sue me! It pushed you in ways you'd never been pushed. You loved parts of it and hated other parts (sparring), but from three events you came home with three trophies. So much for learning to fail! Three third places haha! And because it was the first time the event has ever been held in WA, you were technically ranked third in the state for your age.

In your next tournament the competition was much more intense; there were more entrants and you were up against higher ranks (even up against a black belt), and because of when you're born in the year you were in the 8-9 category despite only being 7. You practised so much and came up with a freeform kata that you were SO PROUD of. You nailed it and came home with two third place trophies and a second place trophy. Well done, buddy!

At the beginning of the year you changed schools. I was concerned with how you would cope because you are a shy kid, and, well, I'm your mum and I worry. When we first said you'd move schools you looked unsure until I said one of your martial arts besties, H, was going to be there. Then you were all "seeya old school!". A playdate the day before school with some kids in your year helped, but walking in to class to find you knew a few of them from martial arts put you right at ease. Plus with H there waiting to give you a hug, you settled in within the first week.

Not long after that, we moved house. You LOVE the new house because from the very first day there have been kids in the street playing and you have gone out and played with them - I can't image the you of a year ago just going up and talking to random kids but you do now, and I credit your increase in confidence to martial arts. These days it's a daily occurrence for the door bell to ring and someone ask if you can come and play - to the point where when the doorbell rings I ignore it because it is ALWAYS for you.

You get on your bikes and you're off. The sense of freedom and responsibility you get from it is obvious, and it is becoming apparent that you have your Dad's spatial awareness because you look at a map or go somewhere once and know exactly where you are and how to get places. I did lose you once though because you lost track of time!! I drove the streets (the ones you're allowed to ride to your friends' houses) looking for you and finally found you (thank you, kind neighbour, for huggign me while I cried on your doorstep) almost an hour after you were due home. It was an honest mistake though, and you haven't done it again since.

You want to marry one of your martial arts besties, L. The two of you are peas in a pod; you are both sensitive souls who focus hard on the task at hand. You announced proudly that you would get married but at the ceremony there would be no kiss (because EW GROSS). Instead you'll give each other a thigh kick. I love that you're comfortable in yourself and happy to share with us your hopes and dreams, and my aim in life is to make sure that you always feel this way.

We've had some success in getting you to sleep this year, but it is still a bit of a struggle and most nights you're up two or three times. Your brain is so busy it wakes you up. I wonder if after all the things we've done to get you to sleep that maybe you don't need as much sleep as other people?

Thank you for an amazing year, my bud. You have shown such courage and determination, maturity and resilience in all that you have faced (including having a bit of a crazy mum). You continue to amaze me and inspire me to be a better mum.

I love you to Pluto and back (because the moon is close).

Mama x

If you feel like a trip down memory lane, you can read the each Letter to Tricky here.

Winner Winner Chicken Tattoo

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 31 May 2018 03:48:00 +0000

I've found people to be very divided when it comes to tattoos. There's a few different camps out there, of which I belong to the "I would be covered in them if I had the money and I wasn't so indecisive" group. If you're not in to them, or have nothing nice to say, you might wanna go watch cat videos or something and skip this.

Recently I entered a competition on Instagram to win up to a full day sitting with Darcie Kapor, the legend who did the tattoo on my foot - the one that Tricky chose at the Kustom Kulture Festival. Because doesn't everyone let their 7yo choose a tattoo design on a chocolate wheel? You know, the one Bobbin keeps copying?

"I got a bird tattoo just like you, Mum!" Naw, my kid is so bogan 🤘🐦👩‍👧

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@wheres.my.glow) on Feb 21, 2018 at 3:47am PST

I was so pumped when I found out I won. Because a) a new tattoo from Darcie, and b) free! I had an idea based off the designs of artist Jason Freeny, who makes sick AF anatomical sculptures. I follow his social media channels and he had mentioned he was cool with people using his designs as a starting point for their tattoo art. I gave Darcie the brief: Rosie the Riveter, as a LEGO person, with the anatomical cut out ala Freeny.

She nailed it. She came up with this full upper arm piece that included elements to represent my love of galaxies, plants, the mother/child bond, and love. It was insane. The second I saw it, I was lost for words and replied to her in heart eye emojis only. It was booked in and everything was hunky dory.

Narrator: But everything was not hunky dory, for Glow had a midnight freak out.

A few nights before I was due to go in, I flipped out. The piece was in effect a half sleeve, which I have wanted for ever, but being face to face with the prospect I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Was I just getting it big because I wanted it? Or because it was free? Or because I'm a bit manic? An arm is not as easy to cover as the tiny tramp stamp on my back I got when I was 18!

Darcie was so lovely, and said we can just leave the background pieces out for now, and if I want they can always be added in later to make a sleeve.

So with my anxieties calmed I headed in, and we got down to business on my fifth tattoo.

I generally don't find tattoos too painful on the day (hit it when it's fresh and I'll cry though). They're not fun, but I have this insane pain threshold and it comes in handy sometimes - tattoos and giving birth come to mind. This tattoo design didn't have much combining of colours (ink over already inked skin gets a bit ouchy), so it was a breeze compared to my galaxy on my other arm where all the colours overlap and swirl together - with that I was trying hard not to squirm.

At a few points I had this weird as fuck referred pain in my opposite arm! I have never felt that before! It was as if I was having a tattoo done on both sides at once.

I read a few chapters of my book, ate chocolate, made slow motion videos and generally laid about chatting to Darcie about how awesome dogs are. It was basically a four hour, one armed break.

I am SO happy with how it turned out.

Wyldstyle Rosie the Riveter Anatomy Tattoo - a bit bloody and puffy

It's Wyldstyle wearing the Rosie the Riveter shirt and headscarf, with anatomy cut away. I couldn't decide if I wanted lips on her or not; on the drawings and stencil it looked perfect but now that it is on my arm, I think she needs lips and the edge of her eye poking out from under her hair. Darcie said I can think about it and come back in a couple of weeks to add them if I still feel that way.

What do you think? A friend said it was "weird, unusual and quirky... much like you... I like it" and I have to say that has to be one of the best compliments I've ever gotten!

IPL and the Chocolate Starfish

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 03 May 2018 06:18:00 +0000

In my latest reincarnation I'm a Social Media Manager. I'm finding there are certain downsides to having a few clients for my social media management gig these days (I'm in house for one, and freelance for four others), namely that the "Year of Content" has quickly taken a back seat. Because this blogging shit isn't paid, while faffing about on someones Instagram account is, and I have a mortgage to pay.

But it's not the daily grind that you think of when people mention going to work. It's pretty cool and there are the great perks that come with my job. Namely, that I can be in the office, tap tap tapping away on my laptop and then pop in to the next room for some IPL hair removal.

Such an event occurred the other day, and since it involves nudity and genitals I thought "I SHOULD TOTALLY BLOG THIS!". Because embarrassing myself on the internet is part of my very specific skill set.

Now I am not a fan of the look of a Brazilian wax. In my mind it looks pre-pubescent, and that gives me the heebie jeebies. But I figured it might be a good idea to have one session of IPL the full South American way to reduce the amount of hair, and then just get my standard bikini line done from then on to actually permanently remove ALL of that straggly hair that usually sticks out my bathers.

I'm no stranger to having people between my legs. You dirty bastards are thinking "oh yeah, I bet!", but what I actually mean is that I've been waxed before, I've had kids, I've had operations down there, so quite a few people have been exposed to my undercarriage. Plus I'm of the age where my giveashit factor is rapidly declining. It's just a vulva, yo.

I prepped for my IPL the night before by briefly considering the whipper snipper for the inital stage, but instead opted for the clippers (that will never be looked at the same by MapGuy mid beard trim). Wrapped in a towel, I lugged the trimmers, and the hand vac (because my Lady Garden was more Lady Hedge) to the bathroom, past MG who piped up "Need a torch? A headlamp perhaps?". Fucker.

As it turns out, I could have used one. Or a hand mirror.

I'm super bendy, but even with my attempts at contortion I couldn't see everything and did my best to feel my way around when I got the actual razor blade stage. Feel fanny, swipe swipe, feel fanny, swipe again, smooth, next bit. And on and on it went for seventeen hours until I just about blunted the razor. I'm not kidding - I have the fabulous, and not uncommon quirk, of all my pubes being "double pluggers" or even "triple pluggers"; two or three hairs growing out of each follicle. You're welcome for that visual.

You have to shave before IPL because the light is distributed throughout the pigment, so having the pigment just under the skin in the follicle means you'll get a more power packed punch where it really needs it. Also, it's super heating that pigment and those hairs will singe. Legit catch fire if you're not careful.

I head to work the next day and after an hour or so of Professional Facebooking, it was my time to go and get the actual IPL done (yes, we're this far in to the story and I haven't had it yet).

I hopped on the bed and my lovely coworker, D, quickly did my underarms first - and a few little microscopic hairs that had popped through a millimetre from the night before singed. See, you thought I was joking about catching fire but I'm not. And we don't want a CROTCH FIRE, ya hear? I ripped my pants off doing the whole hide your undies thing - OMG why do we do that? She's about to see my vag but oh dear don't let her see my delicates! - and jumped on the bed legs akimbo.

I was scared it was going to be super painful, but I'd witnessed (and filmed - you HAVE to watch it!) the gorgeous 1MotherBlogger having her IPL Brazilian and we chatted throughout the whole thing. Surely if you can have a bit of a chin wag it's not that painful... and she was right. Whilst it wasn't fun, but there were only a few really ouchy bits and I too was able to chat away the entire time while D manoeuvred the handpiece all over my bits, zapping my follicles to kingdom come. My underarms actually hurt more, which means I obviously have Labia of Steel.

Aaaanywho, it came time for me to roll on my side so D could do my butt. Yes, they go ALL THE WAY.

But wait, it gets better. Because I heard the horrifying words "Oh, you've missed a bit shaving. It's OK, I'll get a razor". At which point my colleague, a woman who is so lovely and I enjoy working with, SHAVED MY ASSHOLE.

She proceeded like it was nothing (because she's a nurse, a consummate professional, and has done this exact thing hundreds of times), and zapped my chocolate starfish. On the pain scale, it was only about a two to three, but on the embarrassment scale of 1 to FUCKING KILL ME NOW, it was right at the top. It's one thing to have your lady lips treated, but it's a whole new experience for a colleague to hold up your buttcheek and go to town. Or, I don't know, maybe it's not for you. You might have a very, err, progressive workplace?

As the treatment finished I was relieved both that I could put pants back on and that it had barely hurt at all - honestly waaaaay less painful than waxing. In pondering how awkward it would or wouldn't be to look D in the face and think "you've seen me naked", I considered that it would be worse if she'd treated over the hair; I would be left explaining to the Fire Department and Emergency Room docs just how it came to be that my ass hairs caught fire and burnt the office down.

Now with bonus crutches

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Sun, 04 Mar 2018 08:46:00 +0000

In what is a sure sign from the universe that I have to slow down and stop taking so much on, I have hurt my leg and have been on crutches since Tuesday night. Woe is me. In lieu of flowers, please send chocolate.

But the way in which I have injured myself is so fucking unlikely for me. It might be normal for other people, but having my name and this injury in a sentence will make some people do a double take.

Instead of coming straight out and telling you what I did, I've come up with a list of things MORE LIKELY to see me on crutches than the actual event that caused my hop-a-long status:

Getting my big toe caught in my pants leg as I walk. No, really. It is ridiculous how often I do this; I fall, my life flashes before my eyes (kinda boring on reflection), and I somehow unhook the offending piggy and stop myself faceplanting... well I have so far.
Slipping on a puddle of my own drool as I stare through the glass at the local bakery. I need to carry one of those 'Slippery When Wet' cleaning signs with me whenever I go past.
Getting run over by my own car. Oh wait I already did that! But it still makes the list, because it happening again is still more likely.
Sliding down a hill. This was most recently attempted in February and I'll be honest, there were a few close calls. But who doesn't see a grassy slope and a sheet of cardboard and immediately think SLIDE TIME?! The kids had no idea what I was doing at first, but I led by example and hurtled myself down that hill and then gave them a turn. Because safety schmafety. It was disappointing to look up and see everyone else actively discouraging their kids from joining in our fun... keeping a huge part of their culture from them. I mean, skin on knees is important BUT AT WHAT COST?

No one would blink an eye if I turned up on crutches and said "I got run over in my own driveway again" but when I drop the bombshell that I have a genuine, bone fide, 100% legitimate SPORTS INJURY from doing REAL SPORT it is shocking.

If my highschool had a "Most likely to never ever be injured playing sport" vote, I would have won it right after I won the "Most likely to never ever play a sport or do any physical activity" vote.

But then the whole martial arts things came along and I got bitten by the bug and I'm all sporty and shit now, complete with motherfucking TORN MUSCLES AND TENDONS.

Yep, landing after a switch push kick (a super simple kick that I did properly) my calf decided that the half hour of warm up and activity was not enough and riiiiiiiiip. I looked up at my sparring partner and said "I think I just hurt my leg?". The questioning was because it didn't hurt, but I had felt a ripping sensation that I had never ever felt before (and never ever want to feel again!). I went to walk off the mats and found I couldn't. Ah fuck.

I hobbled off, being held up by two people, and my leg was elevated and iced within a minute or two. It didn't hurt, but it felt really strange.

My instructor said that if I'd torn it, it would probably start hurting real soon. He went back to the class after making sure I was OK and then the pain started to hit. I came soooo close to crying, partly from pain and partly from how bloody disappointed I felt to be out with an injury when I was really getting in to my training.

At the end of class I tried to stand up to hobble to the car, but it wasn't happening. I couldn't put any weight on my left leg at all and had to be carried, piggy back style, to the car that MG had brought down as close as possible to the door (we train together - nawww).

I've kept the standard RICE routine going and been for an ultrasound that shows two tears in my gastrocnemius muscle and one tear in my plantaris tendon. They were thinking it was a grade three tear, but now it looks like three grade two tears instead.

It had stopped hurting on rest and would only hurt if I moved my leg or put my weight down on it, but now, in a somewhat backward step, it has started throbbing all the time. Add sore arms and hands from crutches, my period, and the fact that I cannot unpack the new house or clean the old house, I'm really not a happy chappy right now.

I start physio in the next week, because if anyone touches me now I will swat them with my crutches. I want to get back to martial arts as quick as I can, because I'm really loving it, and also because I don't want MG to get too many ranks ahead of me.

Priorities, people, priorities.

The end of an era

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Wed, 14 Feb 2018 07:58:00 +0000

Photo by Jamie Templeton on Unsplash

I keep randomly bursting in to tears.

"So what's new?" I hear you ask.

Yeah, I admit, I cry over bloody everything (except my kids starting school for some reason). But these last few days I have been in floods of tears as it is the last week I will ever live in this house. We are saying goodbye to Casa de Glow.

While we will still technically own it for a month or so (anyone wanna buy it?), we are bidding a very fond farewell to a home that is full of so many memories.

The memories are not just these past eleven years that we have lived here, they go back much further.

See, the house our children were brought home to, and took their first steps in, is also the house I was brought home to and took my first steps in. I will go so far as to say the house my kids were conceived in is also the same house I was conceived in... and now you have that visual in your head, you're welcome. Ew.

My parents built this house in the 1970s, and when we moved out in the 1980s they kept it as a rental property. Thanks, War Services Home Loans.

When MG and I were looking to purchase our first house, my Dad suggested we buy this place off them. In all its 70s glory; purple tiles, yellow benchtops, and brown wallpaper. So we did. It wasn't the best house, and it wasn't in the best suburb, but it was going to be a foot in the real estate door.

I have memories of birthday parties here; of playing bicycle taxis in the backyard; of Santa coming up the street every year and throwing lollies from the back of a ute; of first day of school photos being taken in the backyard; of sitting on my Nanna's lap at the dining table; being with my other grandparents outside at Christmas. Sure there are some not so fabulous memories, but the passage of time has firmly cemented rose coloured glasses over them.

Over the years we remodelled the whole place. It no longer looks like it does in my memories. Firstly, we ripped out the kitchen and bathroom to put in a more functional (and yes, waaaay more aesthetically pleasing version). We overhauled the bedroom with a fully customised his and hers walk in wardrobe with hidden shoe storage that would make many a clotheshorse foam at the mouth.

Then four years ago, we added a major extension. We got the call telling us of our final council approval as I was labouring in the dining room (though I didn't think I was in labour at the time), and the bobcats rolled in when Bobbin was only four days old.

The little cupboard sized house with cardboard box sized bedrooms was transformed in to an open plan home with generous bedrooms, an extra bathroom (complete with bathtub so big I could almost float in it), toilet, and a walk in linen cupboard that was the envy of everyone who saw it... and a lot of people saw it because I would squeal "YOU HAVE TO SEE MY LINEN CUPBOARD!" whenever we had visitors. You know you're an adult when you place a high value on a fabulous linen cupboard.

We added a massive patio. And I mean massive. Because the house was still technically small (although it now felt huge to us!), the patio became an outdoor room. The kids would be out there no matter what the weather was like because it offered so much protection, and with the big screen MG installed, it was the perfect place for outdoor movies nights with friends and neighbours.

Bit by bit we transformed the back yard with turf, veges, natives and trees that are now established and bearing tonnes of fruit. We poured our hearts, souls, sweat (mostly MG's), tears (mostly mine) and a fuck tonne of money in to this place. And now we're leaving.

My mind swirls so continuously these days I'm reaching for sea sickness tablets. Was it a waste to renovate this place? Are we making a terrible mistake by moving? What privileged worries I have.

But I keep packing. Because, well, it's a bit bloody late to change our minds now with settlement due, oh, TOMORROW!

I am not the only one who is sentimental about crap like this, but I've never done anything quite as momentous selling my childhood home, so other than stopping to have a cry every now and then, I'm not sure what else I can do. Any suggestions, including taking a teaspoon of cement, would be most welcome.

For now, I'll keep packing, and keep my fingers crossed that after complaining right now about how I'm sad to sell it, that it will actually sell fast! So, um, yeah, anyone wanna buy a house?

Good Vibes

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Fri, 09 Feb 2018 06:06:00 +0000

I try not to embarrass my kids too much when it comes to the online world. I'm very aware they have not signed up to be "blog kids", so I have always tried to not share things that could come back to haunt them. Having said that, I'm all for an embarrassing story or two that would not increase the chance of them being bullied or influence a future employer (one of the reasons my two have online monikers). Though I'm not sure if this is more embarrassing for Bobbin or me...

Tricky and Bobbin are now of an age where they don't need 24/7 supervision, and I must say, it's lovely to have come to the light at the end of the high dependency tunnel. I can go to the toilet and not worry she's climbed on top of the four wheel drive like she did when she was just about to turn two. I can do some work in the study and not have to stop to wipe a bum.

So after MG and I had a particularly late Saturday night a few weeks ago we thought we could just stay in bed on Sunday morning and let the kids entertain themselves. I mean, what could they possibly get up to?

Famous last words. Here's what went down:

I was in bed, my eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep and I could hear the kids playing. In my memory of this, my hair falls in tendrils around my serene face as the slightest smile plays on my lips, and I dream about running in to Chris Hemsworth at the shops and having a chat (because in my dream we're old friends). In reality my face was smooshed on the pillow, with a little puddle of drool, and my hair looking like a bird nest.

They were playing so nicely and I was thinking of how, in that very moment, life was pretty good. I love recognising those little times. The boring moments that are somehow magical because I'm surrounded by the people (MG, Tricks and Bobbin) and things (my bed) I love.

After about an hour or so I thought I should probably get up. Again, in my memory it's like a movie. I stretch lightly and slip out of bed, placing a silk dressing gown around me. In reality, I yawn so wide my jaw cracks, my eyes are puffy and I am wearing an old, stained maternity singlet with one boob threatening to pop out (and not in a good way). And right now I'm wondering how on earth the romance is still alive in my relationship.

I headed to our bathroom and found Bobbin looking at herself in the mirror, pretending to put makeup on with my brushes.

"Oooh what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm a famous singer, I'm getting ready for another concert. I'm Libby" she said, referencing a LEGO Friends movie.

"Excellent. Can't wait to hear it, Bobbin."

She glared at me.

"Sorry, I meant Libby!"

Appeased, she continued on as I leaned over to give her a kiss on top of her head. When I stood up I noticed that our towels had been taken off the rail and were in a pile on the floor.

"What happened to my towels?" I asked, still half asleep.

"I couldn't get the microphone to stop buzzing so I covered it." she replied.

OH. FUCK.

No. No. No. No. NO!

I knew exactly what this meant.

Immediately wide awake, I lifted the towels to find the still-buzzing star of the aforementioned late night for MG and I: my, ahem, "body massager".

My sweet, innocent Bobbin had been pretending to be a purple haired LEGO rockstar, singing in to my vibrator for god knows how long. In her defence, it really does look like a microphone.

I had accidentally left it on our bathroom sink after washing it and then passing out asleep the night before, so there is the tiniest sliver of a silver lining here in that it was at least squeaky clean.

I switched it off, mumbling something about how it must be broken and I'll get rid of it. So far, she hasn't asked for her 'microphone' back and I'm hoping it stays that way!

Have your kids ever found something they shouldn't have?

Arbonne 30 Days To Healthy Living Review

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Fri, 02 Feb 2018 06:06:00 +0000

I was gifted this program, but the review is impartial

I got to trial the Arbonne 30 Days to Healthy Living program in November and as with everything I do, I'm going to share it all with you. Because oversharing is my thing. As with any review it's straight up truth, so you'll find me talking about things I loved... and the things that I didn't.

My consultant, the lovely Angie, contacted me on a day when I'd just inhaled a standard Glow-sized serving of chocolate. Which translates to an entire block. Because why buy a Mars bar for $1.50 when I can get an entire block for $2.50, amiright?

I looked down at my gut, and though I'm feeling pretty good about what my body is doing lately (all that martial arts is making me stronger and my mindfulness training is helping with chronic pain), this belly fat that hangs over my pants is more than just a muffin top. It's a bit of a bakery top. It means my hip to waist ratio is all buggered and that is associated with a higher risk of heart attack and stroke.

With smudgy chocolate fingers I typed out my reply. "I'd like to try it. Because something has to change."

I wasn't just the block of chocolate. Because in the scheme of things, one block of chocolate isn't an instant heart attack. But one of those a day? I'd also buy two packets of mud cake truffles so that I could finish off one before I got home and then look better when I shared the remaining packet with others. I was eating drive-through chips every few days and finishing ~~half~~ a jar of Nutella in one sitting. I just food shamed myself. Oops.

I received my goodies and got started with the help of Angie and the online support group. I was cutting out alcohol, dairy, sugar, gluten, caffeine, and as far as I was concerned, anything delicious. They're not cut out forever, just the 30 Days until you reintroduce them and see how you feel.

If I'm on meal replacement shakes, you better believe I'm drinking them from a skull glass 💀💀💀 #30daystohealthyliving

A post shared by G L O W (aka Trae) (@finding_my_glow) on Nov 5, 2017 at 3:04pm PST

On day one I added the shake powder to water and it tasted freaking horrible. I'd read so much about the program and everyone raved about the shakes tasting good. I'm certain they all lied. I choke down as much of it as I can without gagging. Not the best start, but at least it was a pretty skull glass.

By the late afternoon of day one I had a raging sugar withdrawal headache but hadn't murdered anyone so I thought I'd have a Fizz Stick. I have been known to vomit my guts up when headaches get bad, and as I sipped on the drink and noted that it in fact tasted quite pleasant... bleeeuuuurrrrgghhh. Yep. Spewed up my first Fizz Stick. Nice.

In the evening I was craving a cuppa as I usually have one in bed before I go to sleep, so I grabbed a herbal tea and washed down some paracetamol.

Safe to say, day one kinda sucked balls. But I wasn't hungry, so that is a plus.

Day two was much better (don't panic, I'm not going through every day in detail) by the simple swap of water to almond milk in my smoothies. It tasted less revolting, but it still didn't taste good. It wasn't until day four or five that I was knocking back the smoothies with ease and actually enjoying the taste.

I'm pretty sure I was so used everything being coated in a fuck tonne of sugar that the smoothies tasted like cardboard in comparison until my tastebuds had gotten over the initial assault. And get over it they did. I stopped adding berries and the like to the smoothies and had them plain.

I was hoping these 30 Days would be a way to reset my thinking, my tastebuds, my habits... hell, reset my whole bloody brain if possible.

By the end of week one, I'd lost 3kg, wasn't feeling hungry, and felt like I had more energy.

In week two I was confused over the nutritional content of the shakes and was asking questions all over the place about the sugar percentage. Now I'm no sugar nazi (OK I am a bit), but I didn't understand the whole don't eat sugar thing if the shakes had sugar in them. A whopping 20% sugar, at that.

I was shown articles on cane sugar and it's nutritional benefits; claims it was good for everyone from pregnant women to diabetics because of the essential nutrients in it. But, um, newsflash, you know that white sugar you use at home? 100% cane sugar. I'll wait why you go check. It's just milled in to a finer powder, that's all. And if you're claiming that cane sugar helps with all sorts of things, then, well why am I meant to be cutting out sugar for the month? It made no sense to me.

There was lots of talking back and forth and I have the feeling I was not very popular in the private Facebook group with the other people doing the 30 Days. A lot of my fellow 30 Day-ers seemed really in to woo, and that's fine, but I'm more of a science gal myself. My consultant was quick to help out and was very gracious, even when I was ready to quit.

It became obvious that other people doing the 30 Days didn't have any idea on how to read nutritional labels. One participant even told me that because the ingredients didn't add up to 100 grams I couldn't do a percentage calculation. Umm, yes I can. Or, just quietly, I could look in the very next column where they've done it for you in grams per 100 grams. Perhaps one way to improve the program would be information on understanding labels. If you can't read a nutritional panel then there is no way you can figure out what is going in to your body. Don't rely on the marketing, the claims of "fat free" and "5 stars", actually READ the label and find out exactly what is in it.

By the end of week two I was liking the way I was feeling. I wasn't needing a nap every day (still needed them sometimes because of some other stuff going on with my iron and B12 - don't read that link if you're eating, BTW), and I was able to focus more. I had only lost an additional 1kg, but I wasn't here for rapid weight loss, I was trying to jump start my food awareness.

I found myself craving sugar again in week three. All dried fruit is off the table for the 30 Days, but I bent the rules. Because if eating two dates is going to satisfy my craving and I can move on and not obsess about chocolate until the point where I crack and eat a whole block, then I'm going to do it.

Week three also included some meals out, so I tried my hardest to make choices that would fall in to the majority of the 30 Days rules. At home I was cooking as many of the meals on the plan as I could - I told the kids that I was cutting out some food for a while to see how my body reacted, because they are impressionable and as much as I would like to shift a few kilos, as far as they are concerned, I love everything about my body and THEY love my squishy tummy (to the point where they like to pull up my shirt and rub their faces on it). Teaching body positivity is hard, yo!

Week three was probably the trickiest because I was just bloody over it! But I buckled down and tried as much as I could to keep to the rules. Well, the majority of them anyway. I had to eat later at night than was recommended because my martial arts classes don't finish until 8pm and I'm not eating before them or I will chunder everywhere. And that's what is good about it, that you can be flexible with it if you like, or 100% committed if you are a hard and fast rules person.

Week four was the home stretch and I did have a sense of "this is it, you're nearly there!". People were starting to notice I had lost a little bit of weight, and that of course is a great motivator, a massive "SEE, IT IS WORKING!".

At the end of it all, I had lost 6kg, curbed my sugar cravings, and I had gotten much better at actually listening to my body's hunger and thirst signals.

But what about now? What about after Christmas and New Year and OMG THE STRESS OF BUYING A HOUSE?

I have reintroduced all the foods, and nothing made me feel bloated or unwell, so I'm happy about that (any icky feelings could have signified that I was sensitive or intolerant to something). I am pretty sure my stomach shrunk because I'm still not as hungry as I used to be, and I get fuller quicker.

I haven't stepped back on the scales because I am generally not a fan of them, preferring "non scale victories". I can tell you my clothes are looser (the bum in my jeans is baggy af), people are commenting that I'm looking slimmer, and I feel pretty damn good.

Food wise, I am back on the Coke Zero, because I don't do drugs or smoke so I gotta have a vice, OK? And I still crave sugar... but I don't give in to it anywhere near as much as I used to. Some cake for morning tea yesterday meant I was full until after 8pm and a massive training session. That is unheard of previously!

I've also worked on my portion sizes a lot, because as a card carrying member of the clean plate brigade, I was always wanting to finish everything served up after having it drilled in to me that leaving something was wasteful.

Overall, it helped me reassess what food I was using to fuel my body. How much food I was consuming, and why - I was very used to eating because it was "lunch time" as opposed to eating when I was hungry.

Is the 30 Days to Healthy Living for you? Well it all depends on your own goals and priorities. For me, it was enough to kick start my better eating choices so it did help me find my glow. I'll leave you with my final likes and dislikes about the program:

LIKES:

Supportive nature of the Facebook group
Motivational posts in the Facebook group
The taste of the shakes (eventually ha!)
Most of the meal plan and recipes
100% money back guarantee
Weekly call from Angie to check how I was going
There was no hard sell to sign up again or join as a seller

DISLIKES:

Lack of peer-reviewed science based nutrition information
Promoting of untrue nutritional claims in the Facebook group (alkaline diets changing the pH of the blood etc)
The taste of the Greens Balance vegetable concentrate

You can contact Perth Arbonne consultant Angie here.

Would you do meal replacement shakes?

Bobbin is starting school and yes I'm ready

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Sun, 21 Jan 2018 06:50:00 +0000

This post contains a product I was sent for review

It's January, and that means parents all over Australia are counting down the days until the new school year starts.

I've been asked quite a few times if Bobbin will be in year one this year, but I have let them know she won't be in year one until 2020! She seems a lot older than she is because she's confident, headstrong, and has a vocabulary that surprises us all (like when she drops the F bomb - that is really a shock to the system). She is a typical second child, ticking a heap of stereotype boxes.

This year she is heading to kindergarten five days per fortnight. Unrelated: did you know that Americans don't use the word fortnight? Bizarre! But I digress.

Day care drop off and pre-kindy drop off were traumatic events for her, right up until the last few sessions last year (where bribery may or may not have featured), so I am filled with trepidation wondering what it will be like now. Tears? Refusal to let go of my hand? Will she almost dislocate my finger like she did once when they had to peel her off me at day care? Will she be THAT kid? Will I need a shoe horn and a valium? And who gets the valium if there is only one?

Her kindy classroom moved location during the holidays (it was down the road from Tricky's school but will now be on campus), which meant that there was no orientation day. The poor suckers are being thrown in at the deep end!

In typical second child fashion, Bobbin already knows her way around the school, so I don't think the lack of orientation day will have much of an impact on her. More like the lack of mum being by her side.

The new location means the existing fences have to be heightened to comply with state regulations. When the principal mentioned it at a P&C meeting he said it was because the kindy kids can't climb over the higher fences, looked right at me and said "Don't think they'll stop Bobbin, though!". They already know her so well, ha! Perhaps they need a Bobbin readiness program?

To make it as painless as possible on her (and me) we've been doing lots of "big kindy girl" preparation like writing her name, choosing school shoes, selecting a gorgeous unicorn school bag, water bottle and lunch cooler from Crocodile Creek, putting on her uniform that almost reaches her ankles, and practising school lunch times! It is the cutest thing ever.

She adores unicorns and I'm happy that it's all BPA and phthalate free, the bottle is impact resistant (we have gone through so many of the cheapies grrr!), and the backpack has reinforced pockets and zips that are hard wearing. Plus it isn't a ridiculous size that will dwarf her (unlike her uniform).

She is as ready as she'll ever be, and I'm ready, too.

I don't think there will be tears on my part as I don't usually cry at these times. I'll cry watching a movie, if I'm angry or if I burn dinner - you know, things that don't matter. But I rarely cry over milestones. Having said that, this is my last babe. The last "first day of school". Oh god, I'm crying already. Where's that valium?

Clean out mode: activated

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 11 Jan 2018 02:27:00 +0000

Casa de Glow is about to shift a few suburbs over (hold me), so to prepare for the upcoming move, we are in full clean out mode.

Which means my house looks like a total disaster as random shit gets pulled from the cupboard it was hidden in years ago when I couldn't be bothered finding a real home for it or I had some strange sentimental attachment to it.

I have always been overly attached to physical things (no, not like that, you dirty bastards). I don't mean cars and jewellery, I mean weird things like a doorbell that no longer works because it was my grandmothers and she's been dead for thirty years but I CAN'T GET RID OF IT BECAUSE IT WAS HERS type of things.

Who keeps a broken doorbell?

Me. That's who.

So I am doing the biggest cull of my entire life and actually throwing out things I have held on to for years. It is less "ritual cleansing" and more "I don't wanna have to pack all this crap". Years of therapy and I couldn't throw these things out, turns out all I needed was the looming threat of having to move all this shit 8km west.

Part of the clean out is going through the kids' toys and turfing all the broken bits and pieces that they just HAVE to keep (gee, where do they get this annoying trait from?!) and figuring out what they don't play with anymore.

In my newly mega-debt state, I thought it might be a good idea to sell a few bits and pieces that were still in good condition so I logged on to the Facebook Marketplace to see what I could get.

A fucking headache is what I got.

Let's pretend this was my ad:

"Elmo and Big Bird doll. Great condition. One small stain as pictured. $7 each or both for $10. Pick up Suburb A"

See I thought that was enough information for most people to figure out if they wanted to buy something but apparently not. Instead they have to send a bunch of messages asking me questions.

"Will you sell separately?" - Uh, yeah, I said that.

"Is it $10 each or $10 for both?" - You don't read so good, do ya?

"Are they in good condition?" - Yup, even included a photo. Use your damn eyes.

"Where is Suburb A?" - Seriously? Heard of Google?

"I'm in Suburb B. Where is Suburb A?" - Dude, we are practically neighbours. How can you not know this?

"Could you deliver to Suburb Z?" - No. You're 45km away.

"Would you take $1 for both?" - Mate, just fuck off.

SERIOUSLY! How are these people even alive? I knew there were dickheads out there, I mean, the 'contains dairy' warnings on cartons on milk are obviously there for someone, but I never knew they all hung out in the one place before now.

But all my hair-pulling and teeth gnashing was calmed when the most beautiful grandpa came to buy a gorgeous little pull along Brio toy. He pulled up on a loud AF motorbike, all chrome and sleek burgundy. He chatted to Tricky and Bobbin, who were staring in awe, telling them it looked like Harley, but it was a Kawasaki. He even told them he made it extra loud for safety and I was all "yeah pal, safety, you want it loud because it fucking rocks!". Then he gave me $10, popped the toy in his backpack and revved the shit out the bike while the kids stood there, slack jawed, marvelling at how badass it all was.

Cool Grandpa has restored my faith in the Facebook Marketplace... at least until the next person asks me if I will hold the $5 kids pram for four weeks until their uncle's second cousin's neighbour can pick it up.

Do you sell your stuff? Where do you list?

My Shitty Week

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Wed, 03 Jan 2018 07:22:00 +0000

I have always had certain standards on this blog. They were low, but they were still there.

UNTIL NOW.

Because I'm about to talk about my shitty week, and I mean that quite literally. So settle in. Perhaps don't grab something to eat though, OK?

It all started when I went to the doctor to get a script for a lower dose of anti depressants (yay). In my doctor's assessment she was asking how I was going and I was all "still tired, still no energy, but I reckon that's motherhood, yo!" and to be thorough she ordered blood tests and sent me off with a script for half the dose I've been on since THE BREAKDOWN dun dun dunnnnn.

I rock up for my blood test and the phlebotomist was amazing, I didn't feel a thing. She took SEVEN VIALS of blood, all while Bobbin watched and asked about vampires. Awkward. We walked out and down the mall ten metres to the shop where I was exchanging Macaroni Cheese (because the world stopped turning when the incorrect Mac'n'cheese was bought the day before) only to look down and find my arm covered in blood.

Turns out as I picked up my bag, I dislodged the mini clot that was forming and looked like I'd been stabbed. You're all "I don't think so" right now, but I assure you, there was blood everywhere and I was in a dodgy suburb, so a stab wound is the first thing that would have come to mind.

A few days later I'm called back for the test results. I'm extremely anaemic and my B12 is through the floor. So the tiredness may not just be motherhood after all. Whodhavethunkit?

Doc wants repeat bloods (through the giant bruise - ouch) to check for other bits and pieces then casually remarks "and I think we should do a poo test, too".

Ah, shit. Lit-er-ally.

I am so poo phobic. I don't even do poo jokes, which makes living with a 7yo boy quite painful approximately 1,734 times a day.

Now my grandmother died of bowel cancer at 60 so despite the fear, It was time to put my big girl pants on, or rather, take my big girl pants off, and just do it. I straightened myself in the chair, suddenly aware of how many asses had sat on it and asked tentatively "Um, how do I do that?"

"Here," she said, grabbing a couple of tongue depressors, "use these."

What the actual fuck? What am I meant to do, shove these up my butt? You have GOT to be kidding me!

"Grab a kit from pathology on your way out, you just smear it on the cardboard and bring it in, it's just the same as the bowel cancer screening you mail in."

OK. I can handle this. A bit of a self pep talk, and she'll be right. It can't be much worse than seeing skid mark undies of kids who are learning to wipe, right? * clutches at straws *

I head to the pathology desk but instead of some pieces of cardboard she hands me three sample jars.

Dude. No.

Jars? THREE JARS?

They look just like the urine specimen jars except they're white so you can't see what is in them, with brown lids so you fucking know what is in them anyway. Thanks, specimen pot creator, as if this wasn't bad enough already.

The slip with jars says they're for a "faecal occult blood sample".

Err, is my poo joining the occult? Does it worship Satan or is it more of a dabbling in witchcraft? Does my poo like rams heads on the walls and listen to shitty music? Oh dear god, my poo better not be fucking emo. I couldn't handle that.

I have built up a rapport with my doctor and it was hard enough to ask her what I was meant to do, so asking a random pathology chick who had just stabbed me through a giant bruise was just not going to happen. So I did what everyone else does when they're afraid of medical things. I turned to Dr Google.

Dr Google, in her infinite wisdom, let me know that faecal occult and The Occult are, thankfully, completely different things. Well, yes, I did assume that, but it is nice to have it confirmed that I won't be yearning to listen to My Chemical Romance as I sit on the toilet any time soon.

It also informed me that I needed to make a "walnut sized" deposit in to said brown lidded jars on three occasions so that the health of multiple parts of the bowel could be tested in one go. I will never look at walnuts the same way again. Waldorf salads are henceforth banned in this house.

The sample is made, and now I just had to deposit the, err, deposit, back to the pathology desk... which didn't open that day. Fuck me dead, I had to STORE IT IN MY FRIDGE.

"Honey, where is the salami?"

"Oh, just next to my POO SAMPLE, dear!"

Kill me. Just bloody kill me.

Getting ready the next day looked slightly different to usual as I went through my check list and put everything in our bag for the outing:

Water bottles
Snacks
Hats
Sunscreen
Poo sample
Sunglasses

I've had two babies, which means I've had a whole lot of people with their hands up my jacksy, checking it all out, giving me ultrasounds and I've twice had my feet up in stirrups for surgery, and I thought that was pretty undignified. In my books, this was worse. I am such a wuss. I would take a gynaecologist with a cold speculum over this any day.

But (butt?) still, I did it. Because they've seen it all before, and I wouldn't be the first or the last to drop off a sample with a poo brown lid to the lady at the pathology clinic.

I haven't been called for any results, which in my local GP's world means nothing to report, so that means I'm not losing blood in my bowel. So yay for that. But next time can they just knock me out and stick a camera up there so I get a day of sleep?

Top 20 Christmas Presents for Hard To Buy For People

noreply@blogger.com (Glow) — Thu, 30 Nov 2017 06:35:00 +0000

Do you have someone in your life who is hard to buy for? I do. I am married to him.

He's in to lots of things; tech, cycling, maps (duh), martial arts, gaming, and more... but in a way that he would want something VERY specific and I would likely buy the wrong thing. So I can never surprise him with something within those categories.

I've put together a list of awesome Christmas presents for the Hard To Buy For Person in your life:

1. Tile Sport
Do you know someone who loses everything? The Tile is such a cool little device that will play a little tune when you tell it to with an app on your phone. I was lucky enough to be gifted one and it really is very cool. I love that you can also find your phone with it if you press the tile - it makes your phone ring even if it is on silent!

2. Indoor Skydiving
I've done this (read about it here) and it is A-MA-ZING. Perfect for those who are not quite adrenaline junkies, but up for a bit of an adventure. It is much cheaper than proper skydiving, and you can be young or old. Everything is provided including training, flight suits and helmets.

3. Cooking Class
Depending on who it is, this could be an insult, so just be careful! MG loves to cook and is very good at it, so when I gave him a voucher for this he was very excited. There are lots of different cuisines to choose from, and they hold kids classes too.

4. Exploding Kittens Card Game
No kittens were harmed in the making of this card game. Are you buying for someone who likes The Oatmeal and has a crazy sense of humour? Exploding Kittens ticks those boxes. Play the Cheetah Bum card or the Thousand Year Old Back Hair card, and try not to explode.

5. End Poverty
I've always loved giving Oxfam cards for Christmas because it's not just a card, it's a donation that goes towards helping fight poverty. They do good for the world and they are hilarious. Win Win.

6. Awesome Lunchbox
If you follow me on Instagram (and why wouldn't you?) you'll know I love a good lunchbox. Adults need lunchboxes too, y'all, and I can totally recommend the Yumbox Tapas from Little Bento World. It's big enough for a full sized lunch and some snacks for your day. Don't let the kids have all the fun.

7. Float
Perfect for stressed out peeps, a float in an isolation tank with warm water, piped music and low lights could be just what they need. I've floated twice and found it very bizarre but amazing at the same time. You cannot sink because of the magnesium salts, so it requires no effort and you feel weightless.

8. Beard Bib
Now this is a sneaky "for him" present that will also help whoever is in charge of cleaning the bathroom. This ace beard bib hangs on the mirror and secures around the neck, catching all the little beardy trimmings. I am pro beard, but anti beardy trimmings all over the bloody sink. This thing rocks.

9. Ugly Christmas Rashie
These things are awesome! I have always been a bit jealous of the Ugly Christmas Sweaters in the cold climates, so I was chuffed when these rashies came out. There are two designs this year and again, proceeds go to the Cancer Council.

10. Food Safari
The Leederville Food Safari is the ultimate in progressive dinners. It's a three course tour de force of the suburb's most exclusive eateries and restaurants. What makes it so cool? You travel by rickshaw between venues. Hot nights with the cool breeze in your hair as someone other than you pedals along. Delicious and

11. Coravin Screw Cap Attachment
If you know someone who drinks fancy pants wine and already has a Coravin Wine System, you could get the screw cap attachment for them so they can be just as fancy with screw cap wine as they are with corked wine. Or if you are willing to spend a shed load of money you could get the original system for them. It means you can drink one class at a time and the rest won't go yuck. But I kinda don't understand this one glass at a time bizzo.

12. Sweary Stuff
I am a lady who says fuck a lot. So is Cate Bolt. She's the first to tell you her stuff isn't art, it's "sarcasm draped in fabric". Her stuff is great and everything goes to her orphanage where she saves girls from sex trafficking and slavery. So if you know someone with a big heart who likes to say fuck a lot, this is your perfect online shop.

13. Map of the Stars
I don't mean a tourist map showing you where the celebrities live, I mean a map of the night sky on a particular date and time. You could have your wedding, the day they were born, or any other significant date for them, and voila, an image of what the sky looked like that night. Perfect for astronomy nerds.

14. A night at Crown Towers
This is great for anyone you are willing to spend the night with because of course you want them to take you! It could work for some awesome child free time for a couple, or a girls night out. The complex is huge and there is always something on, or you could hang by the pool and order cocktails.

15. Merry Movies
If you hadn't guessed by now, I am a fan of giving experiences as gifts. But that doesn't mean you have to spend a fortune. These themed Merry Movies gift cards from Event Cinemas start at $25. Super cute designs including Coco (OMG death positivity in Pixar form!), The Last Jedi, plus the ones you see below.

16. Golf Lessons
From beginners through to advanced, if you have a Golf obsessed person in your life send them to lessons. Whether they have only ever played mini golf or they are wanna be pros, everyone can learn something from professional lessons.

17. Tea for Two
Know a tea lover? Then head to T2 and you are sure to find the perfect gift. I adore the Tea for Two set because it's nice to share tea out of a beautiful pot and gorgeous cups. Whether it is plain ol' tea or something more fancy and hipster, you'll find it there.

18. Dinner and Drinks
Head to the brand new Whitfords Brewing Company for alfresco dining and a wide range of national and international beers. With regular specials, food events and fun entertainment going on in the complex, there is something for everyone - even the kids if you have to bring them.

19. Amazing Skin
Is your Hard To Buy For person is a skin care junkie? Or are they always complaining about something to do with their skin? For the right person, a gift voucher to Skin Resus would be brilliant. I had IPL photorejuvenation and wrinkle relaxers (click the link for my before and after videos). Full disclosure: I loved it so much I work there now!

20. Gifts for Peace
Buy food for a refugee family. Education for a refugee. Safe midwifery kits. Train a teacher. Support a refugee with a disability. Restore a well. There are so many things to choose from, you will find one that will resonate with who you are thinking of. And you will make a difference!

Are you hard to buy for?