tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38244987220634651842024-03-13T22:36:13.187+11:00The Mother LoadA journey of parenthood, instinct, opinion, occasional wisdom and more than a little dysfunction.The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-64145076906315534712023-11-10T17:55:00.002+11:002024-01-01T18:01:22.658+11:002023 - Roller Coasters And Rambling Wrap Ups<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">IMAGE: PINTEREST.COM | 2016 - Roller Coasters And Rambling Wrap Ups</span></span></td></tr>
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Ahem. Hi. Remember me? </div>
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Yeah - once upon a time I did a little rambling in the pages below but then I forgot to keep up the rambling cos I felt like I had nothing worthy to say and I got all serious and 'adulty' and too busy to be creative. Yeah - that. </div>
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The meme to the left is pretty much the only reasonable explanation I have for being decidedly absent from The Mother Load this year. What the hell happened to 2023? Did I fall asleep in May and forget to set my alarm for July? Did I pass out from the cold in June and come to in October? I have a vague recollection of a teen starting and completing her first year of high school and another sailing through second grade but admittedly it's all a bit of a blur...?</div>
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Yes, admittedly, in 2022 there were the usual music exams and solo performances with both girls participating equally this year which of course added to the household tension, preparation and anticipation. There were school plays, sports days, coffee mornings, and milestone birthdays but I'll need to refer to the photographic evidence for those details as they are all a blur having passed me by at the speed of light. </div>
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There was the traditional array of personal ups and downs in our lives this year but the scales were fairly well-balanced so it was all about our interpretation of whether the glass was half empty or half full. As it turns out, it was mostly half full - phew. On the upside, along came our beloved new furry family member Teddy the Labradoodle who is
totally awesome and super-loved and who keeps us on our toes stealing more
socks and hair elastics than I thought we actually owned. Although he came along in 2022 it could well have been 2006 given how quickly he's already become part of the furniture (furniture with a few teeth marks, I might add). There have been new jobs, new opportunities, new friendships and new worries, but we're all still here, still healthy and the fresh beginnings that are 2024 is merely days away. </div>
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Seems that the older I get, the quicker time is moving and I don't like it - not one little bit. Why is that? Is the first part of life a bit like a steep, slow climb to the top of a roller coaster followed in the second half by the speedy, uncontrollable white-knuckled descent which, despite all preparations to hold on tight you're never quite prepared for? Truth be told, I think I'm in my descent. I don't mean that in a sombre here-comes-death way, but something about my life, its pace and the circumstances I find myself in recent years makes me feel like I've already reached the tip of the coaster and the wind has started to whistle in my ears as we head rapidly downwards. (I hate roller coasters by the way.)</div>
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With that in mind, is there any way we can perhaps hit the brakes on this roller coaster for a little necessary maintenance? Say - maybe that's what family holidays are all about? Maybe they're just a temporary halt to whichever roller coaster direction you're on where time is allowed to stand still for a bit while you re-group and adjust your safety belt? Maybe? Anyway, just a thought. </div>
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And yep, it seems my rambling is back.....😏</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-5633830445988432872023-11-01T12:00:00.000+11:002024-01-01T17:55:37.617+11:00Closing One Door, Opening Another....<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">MAGE: THE MOTHER LOAD | Closing One Door</span></span></td></tr>
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You know those times when you feel like one of your kids just needs to be cradled through life more than usual for a bit? I feel like I'm doing that currently with my littlest gem as she seems to be in the process of figuring out and accepting who she is and her place in this big, wide world. And I don't mean in a Dr Phil kinda way, but more where she's stretching her little legs and arms out to see how far she can push her unique personality, her creativity, her ability to manage friendships in a tough girl-eat-girl world and how to cope with whatever challenges a healthy eight year old may face (and apparently there are quite a few!) It's a nice time - a time where she needs her Mum to be by her side; to massage her confusion and mixed up thoughts into something that make sense to her and feels right. </div>
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I noticed in recent months that my littlest person was becoming more and more difficult to manage on a day to day basis. Homework time, shower time, and bedtime were always met with a mental collapse of some sort where the gentle negotiation no longer worked and she was getting frustrated and angry a lot of the time. It wasn't her. Her playful, light-heartedness had flattened and she was in constant battle with either her family or herself where she was either beating me up for something or another, or giving herself a dressing down. And that's no good - I can take her beating (as I know it equates to frustration, fear, exhaustion or simply the onset of the sniffles) but nothing good comes from a kid who turns their vitriol on themselves. As it turns out, discovered through simply stopping, listening and allowing her to speak in her own time, she was needing the pace to slow down, the expectations to ease and for life to feel a little bit more like fun. And to my surprise, most of all she was asking for a fresh start where she could test out her eight year old self on new people. Go figure. Yup - my mind was blown. A lot of kids shy away from change - she was running towards it. </div>
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So, after much deliberation and allowing enough time for correct decisions to be made without haste, she's moving schools. She's leaving the pace of the private school where she and her sister have always been, and she's making a fresh start in a new environment where learning is done differently and the pace is largely set by the child. She's driven this move throughout the entire process and has remained steadfast in her choice, eagerly anticipating being the 'new girl' in a new environment. It's a little scary as a parent to have that much trust in a child and putting them largely in charge of their own life decisions, but how do they learn courage and about potential consequences (both good and bad) if we don't take a safe leap with them? Truth be told, I've bitten my nails down to the core but me and change? We're not a great match - I have a lot to learn from my eight year old it seems.</div>
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I figure that if your child has something to say, is crying out to you about elements of their life that they can't cope with, it's our job to listen, to acknowledge and to try and fix things where possible, even if there's an element of calculated risk involved. So changes are afoot! And I already have my little gem back - not surprisingly, she's lighter, happier, calmer and fun again, now that she's been heard and understood. Only time will tell if our decision has been correct but if <i>she</i> can be brave enough to try something new and a little unknown, then so can I, right? Nothing ventured, nothing gained is my life lesson this year. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-41443008973020932672016-03-30T10:41:00.003+11:002016-04-08T05:06:48.477+10:00Friendships In Your Forties - What I've Learned<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE : MORGUEFILE.COM | Female Friendship In Your Forties</span></span></td></tr>
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I've been having lots of wonderful times spent with friends lately. New friends, old friends, new friends who feel like old friends, and friends you don't really know you have until you both step into each others' path and say, "I have always liked you and I want you in my life."<br />
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I seem to have struck that scenario quite a few times in recent years. I've written before about my love of the '<a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2014/01/the-mummy-mafia-why-its-not-all-bad.html" target="_blank">mummy mafia</a>' and how I have been fortunate enough to have had a largely positive experience with the schoolyard interactions. The truth is, I love the friendships I've made in this chapter of my life. I love that at this age if you wish to connect with someone, you just do. No games, no pretense, no insecurity, just a simple desire to connect with someone who is like-minded and maybe makes you laugh, or makes you feel happy. It's as simple at this age as it was when we were kids ourselves because when you have kids of your own, potential friends seem to be all around you if you're willing to put yourself out there. And while as a kid I was always more likely to hang around with boys as I seemed to connect with them more easily than with girls, these days my brilliant, widely-varying female friendships are pure gold to me and I'm so grateful for each and every one of them. </div>
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I had a really special friend a few years ago who I adored and to this day I believe she taught me a lot about making friends and about the simple act of reaching out and being transparent. We connected with each other almost immediately and she provided me with such happiness and joy. My friend had cancer throughout our friendship and while it didn't define our friendship in any way, I think in a small way it helped bring us together in the early days. We weren't friends <i>because</i> of cancer, but I believe that we both knew that there was no point wasting time in making our connection 'a thing'. My beautiful friend, who was experiencing the awful possibility of dying sooner than the rest of us, knew better than anyone how to connect with others who would provide her with that wonderful friendship-y stuff I'm talking about; the friendship stuff that had nothing to do with her illness. She connected with many of us wholeheartedly and in doing so, she taught me how to make friends without hesitation and without the time-wasting notion of waiting to see what pans out over time. Although we had to say <a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2013/03/the-legacy-of-my-friend-warrior-woman.html" target="_blank">goodbye</a> to her some time ago, this lesson in friendship is something I have taken with me to this day. For that, (and for so many other things I learned from her), I'm truly grateful.<br />
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So here's the thing about me in this chapter of my life. These days, if you and I are destined to be friends, it probably won't be me hanging back in the shadows waiting for you to make the first move. In my forties I've learned to step forward, to reach out a hand and to say what's in my heart; about what a friend means to me. My dear friend taught me that too. I really believe we should foster wonderful, deep and fulfilling friendships as though time is not a luxury and we shouldn't allow hesitation and insecurity to get in the way of whatever wonderful things are there to be experienced as a cherished friend. So if there's someone bubbling away on your radar that you know you're destined to be friends with, take that step. Discuss the prospect of coffee! It's the age old caffeine-y glue that binds friends together! You just never know the joy that you may be missing by hesitating. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-14544422124935001762016-03-21T17:59:00.000+11:002016-04-01T12:51:42.183+11:00Costco - The Magical Land Of Bulk!<br />
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Anyone else fed up with spending $200 every time they sneeze in the general direction of the supermarket? I am. Goddamn, my kids can eat - they're like two impatient chimps who have just completed a holy month of fasting. It's ridiculous. I buy what I think is more than enough at the start of the week and surprise, surprise we have a whingey, whiny 'cupboard is bare' situation long before the week is out. It's like living with two Pacmen. So from a family budget perspective, I feel like there's a) the mortgage, b) the school expenses then c) the damn never-ending grocery bill.<br />
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I'm on a mission to shop cheaper and for better quality produce than my local large chain supermarket. *cough* <i>Woollies </i>*cough*. Not only do I feel completely touched up at the checkout whenever I leave there, but I've also found myself walking away with more droopy eggplants and brown avocados than I care to count. Meh. Annoying. So as part of my mission to check out more economical options (you know already of my love for <a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2015/02/aldi-if-you-dare.html" target="_blank">Aldi</a> if you've hung around here for a while) we recently signed up for Costco. I know - sound the trumpets! I had my fourth visit there this week and I can finally say, I'm getting the hang of it. By getting the hang of it I mean successfully walking out of there having NOT spent $600.00 on stuff I really didn't need in the first place - to achieve that takes quite a bit of practice as it turns out. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>From the minute you walk through the (ridiculously oversized) door, it immediately feels as though you've been magically shrunk by some kind of Costco wizard. The trolley is huge. The aisles are massive. The shelves are high and everything comes in a giant box of twenty items, not just one. Just so you know, you don't go to Costco for a packet of this or a tin of that.
Come prepared to buy four hundred of this or that; more than you ever
thought you could possibly need.
Absolutely everything is sold in bulk with the exception of basketball
hoops, surfboards, dishwashers and fridges. Yes - whitegoods. And tyres. And other
weird random shit.</div>
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The first time I set foot into the giant magic land of bulk, I went crazy. I
totally convinced myself that I needed twenty packs of Japanese seaweed and a
cardboard box full of protein balls as though my life depended on it and without thinking of my eski-sized pantry or my modest budget, I
over-purchased. In my two most recent visits though, I've gone through
that giant wizardy door with a well-considered plan. Coffee,
pasta, shampoo, cheese. And maybe more protein balls cos they kinda
worked out. You also need to have your willpower engaged - by
comparison, you know when you holiday somewhere beachy, you always come
home with a sarong you've purchased but you never wear again? Well Costco
can suck you into the same game. My advice is - if you don't need it, don't buy it!<br />
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If you've never done the Costco thing yourself, I should also warn you that if you have zero storage
space in your home, you're going to get all excited while you're there, but you'll have a conniption when you get home as you try and work out where the hell you're going to store your 45 bars of soap and 12 boxes of pearl couscous. Admittedly, I do this every time and yet I still somehow manage to return to Costco on my next visit and convince myself that I have a plethora of magic empty cupboards waiting at home to greet me and embrace all of my bulk purchases. In reality we have NO storage and therefore our garage looks like an NQR
store - currently it's brimming with pallets of passata, large sacks of rice, an endless supply
of toilet paper and vats of fabric softener. But, on the other hand, we have our staple items for months to come
and we've definitely saved some dough in the process. <br />
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So pretty much, Costco is a win if you keep your head down, know what you can store and know what you really need to purchase. <br />
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Have you done the Costco thing yet? If so, are you an over-shopper (like most of us mugs in there)..?! What's the most ridiculous item you ever bought? (Two words - Japanese seaweed. You could never be a bigger idiot than me). </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-89536239201391173882016-02-22T21:33:00.004+11:002016-03-21T21:07:02.796+11:00Cinnamon Scrolls - TaDa! <div style="text-align: justify;">
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I've been doing a lot of cooking lately and I can't NOT share some of the gems here. No kidding, these cinnamon scrolls with a cup of tea will deadset solve world peace I reckon. I think the UN could seriously do with a batch. </div>
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When it comes to baking, there's nothing better than making your own dough - nothing tastes better and if you've never done it before rest assured it's really nothing to be scared about. I found this recipe on <a href="http://www.bestrecipes.com.au/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Best Recipes</a> a few years ago and although I've only made them a couple of times, I can guarantee these cinnamon scrolls are to die for. And while they're super easy (that can be our little secret) you will seriously impress even the toughest audience with your superior culinary skills. Have a go!</div>
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<a name='more'></a><b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>CINNAMON SCROLLS</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ingredients</i></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><b>Dough</b> </i></span></div>
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3 tsp dry yeast</div>
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1 cup warm milk</div>
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1/2 cup sugar</div>
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1/2 cup melted butter (120g)</div>
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1 tsp salt</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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4 cups plain flour</div>
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1 cup brown sugar</div>
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2 1/2 tbs cinnamon (ground)</div>
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1/3 cup softened butter (75g)</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Icing</span></i></b></div>
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8 tbs softened butter (115g)</div>
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1 1/2 cups icing sugar</div>
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1/2 cup cream cheese</div>
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1/2 tsp vanilla</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Method</b></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Dough</b></span></i> - Mix all ingredients until a smooth ball forms and leave it in a warm place until it doubles in size. When ready, punch and roll until it's about 1/2 cm thick. (No that's not a dance it's just a rolling out the dough technique!).</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><b>Filling</b></i></span> - Beat the butter until creamy, then add brown sugar and cinnamon. Mix until smooth then spread it over the dough. Roll it up lengthwise, then here's a nifty tip - to cut, use a length of cotton crisscrossing it to slice the roll into perfect little pieces approx. 3 cm wide.</div>
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Place buns on a greased tray, cover with a towel and leave to sit for an hour or so. (I have no idea why). Pre-heat oven to 190C and pop in for about 12 - 15 mins until brown around the edges.</div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Icing</b></span></i> - While buns are baking, beat the icing ingredients together then spread over the rolls as soon as they come out of the oven. It melts in a most spectacular fashion. </div>
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Final step - devour with GUSTO!!!! (And bask in the glory of being a super impressive Masterchef!)</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-32932220557556434162016-02-17T22:18:00.002+11:002016-02-17T22:32:16.435+11:00Pet Fret! It's A Thing! <div style="text-align: justify;">
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Confession time. I have a serious case of 'pet fret' currently. <br />
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Is there perhaps a support group for those who long to have a furry companion but just can't? Surely there are others out there who also suffer from pet fret? There should be a support group. We need to come together and work through this unfortunate vacancy in our lives!</div>
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I'm all over dogs like a flea-bite rash at the moment. I think I may have a set of doggy ovaries in me somewhere as every time I see a dog something aches inside me and I make a desperate bee-line for the poor unsuspecting animal showering them in over-zealous pats and gushy doggy dialogue. What have I become now that I'm no longer a pet owner? A crazy pet stalker lady - that's what! </div>
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In my lifetime, I've never been without a furry companion and boy, have I had some great ones. Cats, dogs, horses, sheep - I've had them all and they were all significant members of my family (even Betty Bantam did alright at holding her position in our brood). And now, I find myself pet free for the past six months after we said goodbye to our beloved Honey (read my tale of unfortunate farewells <a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2015/09/farewell-old-friend.html" target="_blank">here</a>) and although my hallway is free from the hairy tumbleweeds that used to frequent our entrance and my grocery bill is a little cheaper, my heart is emptier without a quiet wet-nosed companion tangling around my feet as I attempt to move from room to room. I miss the quiet tap tapping of nails padding up and down the hallway checking the status of various family members. I miss the slow, rhythmic sound of dog snores at my feet as I type away at my computer. I even miss flipping over the damn water bowl for the umpteenth time, then slipping in the spillage in clean socks. (Actually I only miss that a little bit but you get my point). <br />
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And while I would like to adopt one (or many) of the dogs I obsessively pore over on Pet Rescue each day, sadly for me and my doggy ovaries there are several reasons why we can't just go out a satisfy my longing for another K9 companion right now. So in the meantime, I will continue my crazy dog lady behaviour and if I happen to run into you and your beloved pet in the street, please forgive the inordinate amount of time I may spend stroking your dog and looking lovingly into its black beady eyes. I'm just soaking up some of it's unconditional love. OK? <br />
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-31960497313221173192016-02-11T19:48:00.000+11:002016-02-11T21:03:50.566+11:00Julie Goodwin's Chicken And Lemon Tagine<br />
How good is pearl couscous?! It's awesome, right?! Sorry what? You've <i>NEVER</i> had it? Good Lord - it's time you did! Why not start with the lovely Julie Goodwin's Chicken and Lemon Tagine? It's super easy and outrageously yum. <br />
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Here's the lowdown:<br />
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<span style="color: orange;"><span style="color: #f7b90b;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><i>Julie Goodwin's Chicken and Lemon Tagine</i></b></span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFhjKCxAaAc/VrwyqGbeDCI/AAAAAAAACec/2VpebY9V4QU/s1600/CousCous.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dFhjKCxAaAc/VrwyqGbeDCI/AAAAAAAACec/2VpebY9V4QU/s320/CousCous.jpg" width="275" /></a><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">INGREDIENTS</span></i></b><br />
1/3 cup olive oil<br />
800g skinless chicken thigh fillets<br />
4 garlic cloves<br />
1 large onion<br />
2 TBS sea salt<br />
1 TBS ground turmeric<br />
1 TBS ground cumin<br />
1 lemon<br />
1 cup chicken stock<br />
1 cup water<br />
1 cup pearl couscous <span style="font-size: x-small;">(this is the kicker!)</span><br />
12 large green olives <span style="font-size: x-small;">(although I leave these out as it's more than my youngest child can bear)</span><br />
1/4 bunch flat-leaf parsley<br />
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<i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">EASY PEASY PREP STUFF</span></b></i></div>
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Cut the onion into quarters, and place the pieces into a food processor (or Thermie) along with garlic, salt, turmeric, cumin and 3 TBS of oil. Zest and juice the lemon into the processor and whizz it all up until if forms a smooth paste. (Have a sneaky sniff! How good does it smell?)</div>
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Cut chicken thighs into thirds, pop into a large bowl and coat with the yummy paste. (Doesn't need to be marinated for any length of time - just well coated). Add oil to a chef pan with a lid, wait until oil is hot then add the coated chicken pieces. Fry without turning for about three minutes or until golden brown on one side. Turn chicken pieces over and slowly add chicken stock and water. Bring to the boil then reduce heat to low. Using a spoon, sprinkle in the pearl couscous spreading throughout the pan evenly, ensuring its submerged in the liquid. Pop on the lid and allow it to simmer away for about 15 minutes (without stirring) until the couscous is cooked and liquid is almost all absorbed. Sprinkle the parsley over the top, gently stir it through and voila! Serve it up. Yes - it's that easy! (And no, I haven't left any steps out as is my usual form in the kitchen).</div>
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* Can be served with your choice of green vegies too, if you want to boost the kids' intake. </div>
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If you want more excellent yumminess like this, you should check out Julie Goodwin's 20/20 Meals Book - it's a total winner for weeknight dinners for under $20.00 and it's completely devoid of any eyeroll-inducing recipes. I didn't even get a fake gag when I cooked this one. Winner. </div>
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Enjoy! (Not a sponsored post, just sharing some Julie Goodwin love).</div>
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<br />The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-23381818893259808732016-01-15T17:28:00.005+11:002016-02-11T19:58:24.171+11:00Starting School - Five Tips For Making It Easy<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Have you got a little one starting school this year? How exciting! No really - it is!</div>
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You may be punching the air with jubilation at the prospect your child stepping into this new chapter, or perhaps you're feeling a little nervous and sad as you say goodbye to endless days spent together having pyjama mornings, morning babycinos at your favourite cafe and daily nourishing day naps. That's okay. It's kinda normal to feel a tinge of sadness; in fact it's kinda normal to feel both excited and a little sad all at once. After all, it was really only five minutes ago that we were wearing our favourite maternity outfits and affectionately referring to 'the bump' wasn't it? The beginning of a little person's school journey is a wonderful milestone and these years will bring them so much happiness, excitement, independence and amazement as they learn all about the world around them. With that in mind, I thought I would share a few things that I think you can do to make the transition as easy as possible for both of you (but mostly for them!). There's no hard and fast rules but here's what I learned from our experiences of starting school all those years ago. </div>
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Firstly, try and start off on the right foot - literally. If your child has a brand spanking new pair of shiny school shoes for the year ahead, have them wear them around the house in the holidays before they go back to school. Whack a pair of school socks on with the shoes and let the breaking in happen at home gradually because those hard leather clod-hoppers can be a bit rough on soft little feet in the first few days. If the odd Band-aid is required, it's better that you're there to sort out the problem before any nasty blisters take hold and in turn, shake their confidence with a worry about sore feet. The shoes will loosen pretty quickly and just a couple of hours each day for a week will ensure that on day one their feet are prepped and rearing to go. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">WALK IT OUT</span></span></b></div>
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If you plan to walk to school, why not do a couple of practice runs? The more familiar your child is with their new daily routine, the more confident he or she will feel once the school year commences. You could even do the walk in the new school shoes if you want to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone? Hello, multi-tasking! </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">LUNCHBOX LATCHY STUFF</span></span></b></div>
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This may sound silly, but if they have a new 'big kid' lunchbox always make sure their little fingers can easily open whatever latch is securing it closed. Sounds obvious but those clasps have broken more of my nails than I care to remember so try and do a few practice runs on the opening and closing to ensure your little one isn't going to starve for the first few days! </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">DAY ONE!</span></span></b></div>
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The first day of school can be a melting pot of emotions both for your little person and for you. There will be huge excitement about wearing a new school uniform and carrying a new shiny school bag but there may be tears and trepidation about saying goodbye to you. Both are normal and none of these emotions will last forever. The tears will eventually disappear as they become familiar with their surroundings and understand the safety of their new routine, and I guarantee that within a week they won't show any excitement about carrying their own school bag regardless of whatever bribe you offer! All I would say is try and remain upbeat regardless of how you're <i>really</i> feeling as you walk through the school gates because they're likely to take all of their emotional cues from you. If they are feeling sad or teary, offer encouragement and reassurance. Say hi to their teacher if you can - a good teacher will always assist your child with their first day nerves by offering a smile and some distraction and reassurance about the exciting day ahead. (Teachers really do know what they're doing with the settling in stuff). When it's time for you to leave, look your little one in the eye, give them a hug and a big smile, say your goodbyes and tell them you'll be there waiting for them at the end of their first day. It often goes against every parenting instinct you have but try not to hang around - your presence can at times make things worse if your child is a little anxious or teary. Then most importantly, once you're outta sight, hightail it to the nearest coffee shop and order yourself something large and strong 'cos you've earned it! (Then repeat this step on day two, three, four and so on!).</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ALL THE ZZZZEDS.....</span></b></span></div>
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In the early weeks and months of school, you won't believe just how tired your child will get. I mean <i>really tired</i> - you know, that falling-asleep-at-the-dinner-table tired like they did when they were nine months old? Yeah - that. All the learning, concentrating and playing is a huge overload for them and you'll be the one to cop the exhaustive results of that at the end of each day. If possible, keep things simple and don't add too many extra-curricular activities or you'll wear them out. Trust me on this one - ditch the ballet, swimming lessons, karate and violin for at least the first term while they get used to being a school kid. These things can always be re-introduced when you see them gaining some resilience as the months go on and there are so many years ahead for all those extra skills and adventures. Less is definitely more in the early months. </div>
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So for anyone who has a child starting school in the weeks ahead, congratulations and enjoy this special time! You've reached a really lovely place in your parent/ child relationship where friendships grow (both for your child and also for you) and your child gains more independence and wisdom than you ever thought possible. And while on your first day these school years seems to stretch ahead of you without an end in sight, there comes a time when you realise that in fact they're flying past at the speed of light as you peel back the years and leave each beloved teacher behind you. All the best!</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-69635136543095544522016-01-12T13:34:00.002+11:002016-02-10T16:19:47.892+11:002016 - A Snapshot To Date<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Welcome to 2016! I hope the year has started well for you - mine certainly has given we've spent most of our time beach side. We're slowly easing back into normality and with that in mind I can't believe in less than three weeks we're back into a new school year once more. Didn't I JUST wash those damn lunchboxes???! Anyway, the school shoes are done and that's enough for now until the books arrive sometime next week. Let's just hang here in denial for a bit longer, OK? </div>
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In January 2014 I was inspired by the lovely Nikki Parkinson at <a href="http://www.stylingyou.com.au/" target="_blank">Styling You</a> to post my snapshot of the year so far. (My original version is <a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2014/01/2014-snapshot.html" target="_blank">here</a>). Two years on, I've decided to repeat the post as it's a lovely way to capture the holiday vibe and tuck away the memories for another year.</div>
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Let's do this<span style="color: #444444;">!</span> </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Soda Stream Love</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><b>Making:</b> Plans. Big ones. I'm hoping I can bring them to fruition. Insert motivational quote here like </span><span class="firstword">"Always</span> chase your dreams instead of running from your fears." Or something. </div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><b>Cooking: </b>As little as possible these holidays. I've lost my cooking mojo and I'm hoping to get it back soon. (Who's for fish and chips AGAIN?!).</span></div>
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<b>Drinking: </b>Soda water. How good is a Soda Stream? I love mine with a twist of lemon. I'm such a cheap date.<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Reading: </b>Too much news - urgh. There's so much fear and hideousness in the world currently isn't there? As a result I can hardly bear the thought of my oldest walking to school this year. Hold me. </div>
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<b>Wanting</b>: Things to be more straightforward and steady this year. Said this in 2014, saying it again. LOUDLY!</div>
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<b>Looking: </b>Forward to seeing my big girl commence senior school in three weeks. Eeek! </div>
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<b>Playing: </b>Fish and Snap. A lot. Actually, it's my mum who's playing mostly but let's just pretend I have the patience for continuous card games with children, OK? (Kill me). <b><br /></b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Card Sharks</span></span></td></tr>
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<b>Deciding: </b>Whether or not we're ready for a new dog in the family - it's been six months since we said goodbye to our HoneyBear. Can't imagine I'll ever be ready to replace her....</div>
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<b>Wishing: </b>I had discovered the self-opening. self-closing rubbish bin years ago. (Hey - I never said this list was going to be ground-breaking). </div>
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<b>Enjoying: </b>No school lunches. Woop! (Although the new bin DOES make lunches a little easier...see above).</div>
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<b>Waiting: </b>For the damn school books to arrive so I can turn myself in knots with contact and name labels. *sigh*. </div>
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<b>Liking: </b>my sleep ins!<b> </b>Late to bed, late to rise is a novelty<b> </b>for now. Back to 6.30am in three weeks and counting. <b><br /></b> </div>
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<b>Wondering: </b>Why the hell my Fitbit hasn't registered more steps by the end of each day cos I'm goddamn exhausted! Hello? Is this thing on?</div>
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<b>Loving: </b>Some decent beach time this summer - we've had some great days on the sand watching the girls surf on their boogie boards. </div>
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<b>Pondering: </b>Renovation vs. selling & buying. I know - doing neither would be the best case scenario but sadly that option is not feasible.<b> </b>Urgh to all options!</div>
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<b>Considering: </b>What I do best and how to do it professionally<b> </b>in 2016. <b></b></div>
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<b>Watching: </b>Lots of funny dog videos. When I spend my summer hols with my mum, it's tradition for us to be hunched over an iPhone sniggering at hilarious pooches. </div>
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<b>Hoping: </b>My professional year ahead will be filled with freedom, balance, joy and goal-kicking. And coffee. Lots of coffee. <b></b></div>
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<b>Marvelling: </b>At anyone who has achieved the above. <b></b></div>
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<b>Needing: </b>To learn how to meditate again. It's a long forgotten yet useful art that I know I would benefit from. <b></b></div>
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<b>Smelling: </b>The pack of mini Katie Perry fragrances I gave my twelve year old for Christmas. They're all smell like the inside of a stale lolly bag. <b></b></div>
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<b>Wearing: </b>Denim shorts, singlet tops and thongs. Every. Single. Day. I know - high fashion. *waves a sad goodbye to the fashion bloggy followers*. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | High Fashion Footwear</span></span></td></tr>
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<b>Following: </b><a href="https://www.instagram.com/dear_melanoma/" target="_blank">@dear_melanoma</a> on Insta and admiring her positive spirit and great outlook. </div>
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<b>Noticing: </b>How quickly my kids are growing up before my eyes. I can literally blink and wonder who is standing in front of me inches taller than five minutes ago. Must be all the food they're devouring. *runs to supermarket yet again*.<b></b></div>
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<b>Knowing: </b>The pretty much anything can be overcome with the right attitude. Note to self: need to rediscover the find the right attitude - I left it around here somewhere. <br />
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<b>Thinking: </b>Waaaay too much, waaay too deeply as usual. Think this will change in 2016? I'll give it some thought....<b></b></div>
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<b>Feeling: </b>The roller coaster between anxiety and happiness gaining a little more control.<b></b></div>
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<b>Admiring: </b>My two Acapulco replica chairs I bought for the front verandah. $28.00 each and they haven't yet showed any signs of collapsing - WIN!</div>
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<b>Sorting: </b>Through endless amounts of washing after beach trips. My kids throw stuff in the washing basket to avoid putting things away<b> </b>- yours? <b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Buying: </b>So much food....it's like feeding two starved warthogs.<b> </b>Where the hell is it all going?!<b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Getting: </b>Sick of dragging kids to the supermarket every five bloody minutes. <b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Bookmarking: </b>Lots of resources on managing social media effectively. Plenty of bedtime reading and it helps you nod right off!!</div>
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<b>Disliking: </b>The fact that my hair is now so grey that I have to disguise this ghastly feature every fortnight otherwise I look like a balding budgie.</div>
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<b>Opening: </b>The door to a few possibilities in 2016, slowly and one at a time. <b><br /></b></div>
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<b>Giggling: </b>Less than I should but appreciating that feeling of happiness when I do. </div>
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Why not try this list for yourself? Happy 2016!</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-4062394488863322322015-12-31T15:20:00.003+11:002016-01-19T15:33:56.550+11:00May Your Shirts All Be Pocketed!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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As we skid across the line from one year to the next tonight, the usual amount of yearly reflection saw some family members and I sitting around the kitchen bench last night, chatting about the woes of recent years gone by. (I know, right? We're a barrel of laughs). <br />
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As generally lucky and blessed as we are, we've seen our fair share of shit on the shovel in the last two years. There have definitely been some dodgy times through 2014 and 2015 and as it turns out, our family has a tendency to toss those various woes around in conversation like deflated footballs, comparing one to the other. Our discussion is not a competition about who had it the worst but rather more a bit of a therapy session knowing that at a certain point it's good to download and discuss these challenges particularly when you're on the tail end of them. It seems to make everyone feel as though they've conquered and survived their own little Everest or something. So we say, "Remember this one? But don't forget this! Or that - what about that! That was terrible!" Etc. etc. and then everyone feels a little better about the past and about looking forward into the new year. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>From our discussions we've decided that although 2015 had its moments of resembling steaming piles of cow dung, it was comparably better than 2014 which was quite a humourless joke of misfortune and hideousness in hindsight. That being said, we all agree that things are definitely looking up for the coming year and 2016 is going to be a winner for all. So that's quite good!</div>
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And as an aside (and quite amusingly), in amongst all the discussion about family challenges and of epic tempests gone by, another family member had declared to my mother yesterday that this Christmas period had been of great disappointment to him, largely because a shirt he was given as a gift didn't have a pocket and was therefore unwearable. Now you kinda need to know this relative to understand where this degree of 'misfortune' comes from but nonetheless, it did make me choke on my leftover Christmas pudding and laugh. This was indeed a life lesson I was not yet aware of - apparently, a man needs a pocket in order to call a shirt worthy of wearing. Who knew? By declaring this somewhat of a 'catastrophe', I believe this relative of ours had victoriously conjured up the <i>mother</i> of all first world problems - the dictionary definition so to speak. And while my first reaction was to laugh and utter the old 'WTF?", I also felt quite happy for him that he had clearly dodged all of the family's<i> real</i> ups and downs of the last two years without even realising. Lucky bugger. </div>
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So with that in mind (and knowing now that perspective and resilience are perhaps not always genetically inherited characteristics!), here's to a rich and ripe 2016 full of love, laughter, health and good fortune for every one of us.<br />
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And most importantly, in 2016 and beyond may all of your shirts be pocketed. God willing.</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-66112985292557778662015-12-08T22:49:00.003+11:002016-01-19T15:31:19.204+11:00An Era Ends!<br />
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I'm sitting here tonight, dog tired from all the school festivities and annoying grown up responsibilities of the past month and I'm feeling somewhat blissfully reflective and proud of my first born gal who has happily and triumphantly finished her primary school years today. </div>
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It only seems like only a couple of years ago when she stepped foot into the school grounds for the first time as a four year old kinder girl who looked up at me and said, "You're not coming in are you, Mum?". Back then, she was a curious and distractable being who was unable to sit still or to focus on one thing at a time - like most pre-schoolers I guess. But as each year passed and she was blessed with one teacher or another (all of whom made a significant positive impact regardless of whether she realised it at the time), elements of her grown up self began to steadily emerge like a colourful pair of wings. I feel so happy with how the pages of this chapter we call childhood are fluttering closed and I'm really proud of the type of girl she has become - confident, kind and smart - as she moves forward into this next phase of her life. </div>
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Granted I'm a little soppy tonight and yes, I realise you've suddenly found yourself front and centre of my total brag-a-thon but as her mum I think she's awesome and even if no one else reads this, I have written it simply for me, for her, for others who love her and to somehow officiate this special milestone in our family's journey as only I know how. </div>
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Soon her next chapter begins. In 2016 senior school commences and although she's ready on paper, I wonder how these big fish will cope suddenly becoming little fish in a big pond once more. I suspect there may be unrest, perhaps some fear and angst, but I'm also confident that she's armed with the tools needed overcome whatever is thrown her way. And if not, I suspect the <a href="http://www.themotherload.com.au/2014/04/the-five-minute-chat.html" target="_blank">five minute chat</a> before bedtime will become a part of our nightly routine once more. (And for me, well there's always caffeine or gin and we can only hope they're not required simultaneously).</div>
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<i>"Remember me, even if it's only in a corner or in secret. Never let me go". Carlos Ruiz Zafon. </i><br />
<br />The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-74008758074016624072015-12-05T12:53:00.003+11:002017-06-20T16:29:57.994+10:00Can We Just Build A Fort?!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Christ On A Bike! I know it's a bit wiffy of me to pop in on the blog and spew a life whinge given how long it's been since my last post, but for the love of Jah I'm so tired of being a grown up! Being a grown up sucks! Right now, I want nothing more than to build a fort and hide in there while people bring me peanut butter sandwiches or hot chips. Who's with me? There's room for a few of us. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>This time of year, when you work, or have kids (or both) life is a bit like running a marathon. Each morning you slink moodily outta bed after a slumber that has been disturbed by multitude of urgent thoughts about teacher's gifts, about food for a class party and about this concert or that permission slip. You may sleep, but if you're a chronic overthinker like me this time of year is simply torturous and filled with constant angst about forgetting something important. At the moment, I feel like once I'm on my feet each day I have to climb onto one of those hamster wheel thingys where the speed is being controlled by someone else and it doesn't matter how fast I run, it's just not fast enough to set a good even pace. It's flat out or nothing. Anyone else feel the same?</div>
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School hols kick off for us mid next week and I'm really not sure how I feel about this; seems to me it's the good news and the bad news. No school lunches = good news. No time to do supermarket shopping or hamster wheel-related errands on my own = bad news. Sleep ins = great news. Bored children who need constant entertainment while I'm working = total bollocks. Yup - it's a sliding scale. (It's also front and centre in the first world problem parade but so be it).</div>
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In response to the annoyance and stress of having to 'adult' my way through life currently, I totally popped a valve in my eye yesterday - woke up and BAM. My eye was bleeding. How weird is that?! I actually feel like it was due to stress and some kind of overthinkers' brain explosion. Optom said it was just heavy lifting but the only heavy lifting I'm doing is carrying around all the metaphorical anvils resting squarely on my shoulders currently. Bam. Eye explosion! Totally weird and freaky. And a little scary to small children as it turns out.</div>
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Anyway no time for rambling on but is anyone else is feeling the same? Anyone sick and tired of being a responsible adult currently? Why am I in charge of absolutely everything?! I feel like any minute Obama is going to call me up and ask me to arrange peace talks with Russia or something. Just another thing for my ever-growing to do list of responsible adult tasks. (I could probably do it, by the way. Just in case POTUS is reading this...) </div>
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In the meantime though, can we just build that fort and let everything take care of itself for a bit? Just bring your torch and I'll supply the rest including the hot chips. And maybe Jaffas. Are you in?!</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-27585102042960847692015-09-24T11:21:00.000+10:002015-12-14T11:49:07.987+11:00Farewell, Old Friend..<br />
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She lay still on her bed, knowing that her old body was slipping away long before her head and her heart were ready. I cupped her heavy head in the palm of my hand, nuzzled her old grey face and she gazed back at me with her black eyes, pushing aside the pain she was enduring. Both she and I knew what that nuzzle meant. <br />
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<a name='more'></a>It was a little over a month ago when our beloved HoneyDog above left us at the ripe old age of seventeen. I haven't been ready to share, not so much because of any great sense of overwhelming sadness, but more because I wanted to write about her with spirit, with happy reflection and with love - completely befitting to the gracious old dame that she was. </div>
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We are well aware that we shared so much more time with our Honey than many; seventeen happy, healthy years is considered to be a life well lived in a rescue dog like her. And she knew it too. Honey always had a sense of owing those around her - it's weird to imagine a dog embracing the concept of gratitude, but she really did live her life with a serve, protect and behave mentality. I think if you're an animal person, you will always have that ONE companion who you remember as the 'special one', the one who had the greatest impact on your life. To me and in fact to all us, that was definitely her.</div>
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We knew losing Honey was coming but the knowing doesn't really make it any easier. From around the age of about fourteen, we began to see any year that rolled past as a bonus and thankfully, we had an abundance of those bonus years which were largely free of illness. Last year she was diagnosed with suspected cancer, but when a dog is sixteen cancer seems like a non-event as you're aware that there's a multitude of other things that could take her as the old body gives up. So, on the vet's advice, we basically forgot about it, did nothing and thankfully it never had any impact - it was not the reason she left us in the end. One night, she had simply had enough. <br />
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Honey came to us in 2001 on the day before the twin towers came crashing down. We bought our first house as a couple and promptly marched to the RSPCA to select the perfect 'furbaby' to complete our 'family'. Truth be told, she wasn't anywhere near perfect in the early years - a messed up rescue dog who has been badly treated bonds to you like superglue much quicker than you expect and of course, quickly decides that whenever you're out of sight the world is coming to a dark end. Separation anxiety becomes an inconvenient part of your daily ritual and I laugh now at all the things we would do to try and trick her into thinking we were still there while we were actually at work - generally she couldn't be fooled for long though so there was always something unpleasant to come home to. Still, you learn to deal with the anxiety and you're more than rewarded by their love, loyalty and staunch companionship. Looking back I wouldn't change a thing (except maybe having to re-spray Mr MotherLoad's prized 1971 Porsche after she dragged her enormous bone onto the roof of the car so she could keep a closer eye on the street where we would eventually return - OUCH.)<br />
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Nonetheless, resprayed cars and ruined back doors in every house we ever owned aside, she was truly worth every maintenance bill and headache. As fate would have it, we recently sold that first house we bought in 2001 and the day before we handed the keys onto the next owner, Honey died, closing that long chapter in more ways than one. Saying goodbye to our house and to her in one day was very strange and poignant but weirdly appropriate in some ways. <br />
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Honey was our companion, our comforter, my co-worker and protector for fifteen years and while it was hard to say goodbye, we hope she's up there with the countless number of other pets who have come and gone in our family during our lifetime. We imagine she's swimming in an ocean and catching a frisbee somewhere up there, and we hope there's a chicken neck or two waiting for her at the end of each day. </div>
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Vale HoneyBear. </div>
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<br />The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-72896477774289566632015-09-22T21:35:00.000+10:002015-09-25T10:37:56.534+10:00Is This Thing On....?!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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I know, I know. It's been three months. Three bloody months!! My creative well has been bone dry for THAT long and I fear I'm now tapping away here for the sole purpose of my own self-therapy once more, maybe devoid of any kind of audience at all. Are you even here? Is this thing on...???! *microphone squeals to life*.</div>
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I'm not going to meticulously fill you in on all the juicy details of the last three months; I'm not even going to do what they do in TV shows to catch you up by rolling a package of highlights. I'll just say that while 2014 and 2015 were especially shaky for a while there, things seemed to have turned the corner and I suspect the ship is once again heading in the right direction. Yay for that. And now it's September. SEPTEMBER!!! When did that happen? Did we even have a July and August or did we totally skip them? I read that someone had finished their Christmas shopping the other day. Pfft. If that's you, please stop reading this, head to a mirror and take a good hard look at yourself. Then punch yourself in the face for being annoying. <br />
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<a name='more'></a>On a lighter note, as you can see from the photos above and in response to my last post which was in *cough* June, I eventually got my fabulous holiday in the sun. Sure pays to have a goal and a little patience doesn't it? We've just returned from a blissful week filled with warm sun, hours of swimming, too much food and unlimited naps (I believe soaring body temps and a dash to the nearest doctor was in there too but let's not get bogged down in details). Heaven! Sand in the knickers and a bit of itchy sunburn aside, heaven!</div>
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Speaking of patience, aside from the kiddy fevers I also managed to acquire a truly magnificent engagement ring! Yes - after sixteen years together and two kids, he decided that perhaps I was indeed a keeper and he got down on one aged knee and popped the question! One would think that by now I would have either given up all hope or I would not be at all surprised by his move, however he totally stumped me. I always assumed if it was ever to happen, we would do the usual thing that people in a relationship spanning this many years do, where he simply suggests I go out and choose myself a nice ring to mark the occasion in the same way long-term couples tend to sort out each others' Christmas gifts. But no - he did it the sly, sneaky romantic way and weirdly it felt suddenly as though sixteen years together concertinaed down to about five like an old piano accordion, and it felt like it was exactly the right time for us to take that step. That's weird and maybe hard to understand, but that's the feeling I got. </div>
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Announcing such spectacular news is very strange when you've been together for such a long time. Mostly, you're met with a bunch of people who look at you with a face that says, "but....I already thought....". You then need to explain that no, indeed we were both just waiting for a better option that never came (!) so we're taking the plunge! Then of course there are the friends knew it was yet to be, and who gave up asking when it was going to happen years ago. They're the ones who squeal with the most excitement at the news and give you the BEST reactions. (Then of course, there's my mum who hasn't stopped spilling tears of joy since I sent her the photo of the ring on my finger). </div>
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So while I'm still an advocate for choosing to remain happily unmarried with kids for as long you both shall live, it also feels nice to be finally connected in this way especially when you can wake your kids up one morning, announce to them that mummy and daddy are finally getting married and bear witness to their sheer delight. It feels nice - it feels like a new and happy chapter, and it just feels right. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-7443194362752238482015-06-08T14:17:00.001+10:002016-01-19T15:32:38.079+11:00Dreaming Of There (And Not Here)<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pXSTUhpFCeY/VXT-SWTYLDI/AAAAAAAACW0/7crQxpk0bSc/s1600/Noosa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pXSTUhpFCeY/VXT-SWTYLDI/AAAAAAAACW0/7crQxpk0bSc/s320/Noosa.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Dreaming Of There (And Not Here)</span></span></td></tr>
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We've had lots of the proverbial shit-up-hill day to day stuff lately, and it got
me thinking. I sooo need a holiday!!!</div>
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Truthfully, there's almost nothing I wouldn't give to be in the photo above
right now. Winter has set in here (I hate winter), life is a bit one step forward, two steps back and therefore I'm craving the warmth of the sun and the simplicity of decisions that revolve around which ice cream flavour to choose or whether the
day requires beach or pool time. (Sun, ice cream and water fixes most things for me). I long to
feel warmth on my feet, hear the sound of my kids happily playing at the beach
and have a few lighthearted conversations for a change. Who's with me? Anyone else feeling the same? </div>
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<a name='more'></a>Among the larger challenges of life currently, my five year old laptop met its maker last week. (Surely five years old counts as fifty years old in technology years?). It didn't fully die as such, but it died enough to make completing my new job successfully near impossible. Then, this week, as luck would have it, our heating died. Again not fully dead, but dead enough to come on only once a day and spew significant amounts of carbon monoxide into our bedrooms like the silent killer that it is. So - dead without negotiation as far as I'm concerned. </div>
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And to top things off just nicely, yesterday I woke up and my iPhone was dead(ish). I know - some three stage karma coming at me for obvious misgivings in a previous life, right? Clearly somewhere through the ages I was the Hitler equivalent in the philanthropy stakes. Thankfully, a trip to Apple and a very simple hand trick by the skinny hipster consultant had it operating again in ten seconds. Would have kissed him if not for the beardy crumbs. </div>
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So once again, two steps backward, one step forward.</div>
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This pattern of annoying and expensive incidents pretty much sums up the tone of things over the last twelve months in the 'annoyingly bad luck' stakes. (I won't even mention the replacement of three car tyres in one go thanks to the twit who deliberately threw tacs on a local road a fortnight ago!). Yes - I know. I'm whingeing a little bit but the list is getting hilariously long and you'd totally agree and laugh with me if I shared it with you. Having said that, outta these life lessons I've learned a few things about my own approach. These days instead of freaking out and doing the 'woe is me' dance (which I know I would have done once upon a time), I now have the useful ability to simply roll my eyes, chalk it up as yet another thing, add it to the list, and deal with it quietly as best I can. Less drama, less bravado, same end result. Better for everyone, including me I'd say. </div>
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Anyway, I'm hoping my recent misgivings are enough reincarnated karma for now? Maybe those karma Gods might consider sending me away on a little beachy retreat sometime soon instead? One can only hope...! *pulls rug up to chin and sighs despondently*.</div>
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Have a great week!</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-38600058141854218752015-06-02T17:39:00.003+10:002015-06-08T15:21:37.200+10:00Our Social Media Sabbatical<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Our Social Media Sabbatical</span></span></td></tr>
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I don't profess to be the perfect parent. Although I may at times make the mistake of striving for perfection, I often fall pretty short in the parenting stakes. Generally if I fall short, I always try and get up, dust myself off and learn whatever lessons there are to be learned. Then I come here and share these lessons with whoever wants to listen. (Or I eat a block of chocolate - whatever gives the most satisfaction). I certainly don't declare what parenting path I choose to be the best way or the right way but it's just... well, my way. <br />
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This post is perhaps one of those lessons I'm choosing to share - whether I'm right or wrong in my approach only time will tell. <br />
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<a name='more'></a>So last week, Miss O and I agreed to her having one month away from her already limited amounts of online interaction. Actually, I imposed it but she agreed, quite enthusiastically which was surprising in itself. You see, lately, she's been a bit flaky and forgetful. I'm not saying it's entirely the fault of social interaction (I suspect hormones and high self-expectations may be playing a role too), but she's been making a pretty intensive beeline for whatever device gives her access to Instagram and I suspect that a habit is forming where it takes precedence over other stuff here in the real world. Lately, she's been forgetful and more vague than usual, and I've found myself making an unusual number of extra trips between school and home with forgotten blazers, sports gear and piano books. Who knows what's really to blame for her forgetfulness given that all the expectations coming at her require her to be more adult than child in this pre-teen phase, but I'm looking into it and I'm starting with her online interaction. We're calling it a social media sabbatical. <br />
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I should be clear here - devices and online interaction are pretty
heavily policed in our house. There are time limits, limits on what apps
are appropriate, as
well as limits on how much interaction is considered healthy. It's by no means open slather. We also
have the golden rule that mum will invariably read whatever
communication is taking place, as may the mothers of friends and maybe
even teachers too, so we must always behave as though the proverbial "granny" is
watching. She knows this and in that regard I'm largely fine with what
I've seen to date - that's not the issue. It's the skewed balance
between time spent online with friends and time spent in the real world,
getting stuff sorted. That is the main issue here. </div>
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Our month long social media sabbatical started initially as punishment by me deciding to remove her devices after yet another trip home to collect one forgotten thing or another. Truthfully, I blew my stack in a crazy-woman-head-explosion kind of way when two vital items were forgotten in one morning - it was not my finest hour. But then when I simmered down, it dawned on me that there was perhaps a better way to approach finding a resolution beyond a flat out ban. I mean the ban was coming, but I needed to make her feel part of the decision so she could see the reasons behind it. Instead, I sat her down and discussed with her what she thought was causing her lack of organisation and we both decided very quickly that it was the degree of distraction that the online world was bringing, especially given it's where all of her friends hang out nightly. (I remember being allowed to phone a friend after school - a twenty minute phone debrief was pretty much all we needed to keep up to date. Anyone else remember that?! Helloooo Gen X'ers!). So we jointly decided to see what would happen if she spent the next month a bit more offline, so to speak. </div>
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Everyone has their own way of parenting through the digital age and because I'm largely across the digital landscape myself, I'm not one to flat out prohibit online interaction in this early teen period. I figure that if you can hold the hand of child as they take baby steps into social media and take the journey alongside them, it can be a really great learning tool for lessons around privacy, copyright and how to be a good digital citizen generally. BUT. You have to be really engaged together as parent and child and if it's simply all too foreign or too much of a commitment for some, I completely respect the reluctance of families who shy away from it. I reckon it's better to avoid the social landscape if you can't participate and monitor things closely rather than permit social media and have nothing to do with your kid's interactions until something goes horribly wrong. </div>
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Social media and the online space for interaction with others is not going to disappear so we might as well navigate it gradually together with our kids so that they can learn all the lessons that come with being in the virtual playground surrounded those they know, and eventually by those they don't know. <br />
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So - we're a week into our social media sabbatical and she hasn't missed it even once. Already she's talking about ways to better organise herself by creating charts and reminders, and she's spending more time playing like a kid in the real world. So my course of action seems to be having the desired effect and I've learned two things - flat out
reactive punishment can sometimes be replaced by meaningful dialogue to
reach the desire outcome, and in our house we need even less time online
and more time in the here and now, where there's still time for her to
be a kid. Pretty simple really. (I'm also saving so much time not having to make those additional trips to school with crucial belongings - win!).<br />
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How do you balance the online interaction in your family? Feel free to share your tips in the comments below - there's so much to be learned from each other's attempts at finding the right balance.<br />
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-13196370412618276632015-05-29T18:23:00.001+10:002015-06-08T15:21:08.333+10:00So - What's Been Happening?<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGE : PINTEREST.COM | So - What's Been Happening?</span></span></td></tr>
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Hello, Blog. Hi Bloggy Mates. Remember me? We used to hang out together quite a bit. Then I went kinda AWOL. It's nothing personal, I just needed some time away to sort out the real world for a bit. Now I'm back and although we're a little stuck for conversation right now, I'm hoping it'll be just like old times really soon.<br />
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What's been happening? Oh! Glad you asked! </div>
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<a name='more'></a>So I've got a new job and I'm totally loving it. I'm managing an online community which is a role that is totally made for me after all the time I've spent hanging here with you lot these past years. I'm two weeks in and I'm smitten. How good is that feeling? You know - the feeling when you start a new job and you know you're just going to love it?! Yeah - that. And furthermore, to score myself another position working from home is like winning the lottery for me. If you get the chance, you should try it. There's usually Ugg boots involved and often your only colleague is a dog who, incidentally, is no good at any work-related tasks and is openly lazy. </div>
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Also this week, Mr Mother Load has ventured back out into the workforce as a consultant after a few months off. It's good. No, it's great. He's engaged in his passion once more, and more importantly I have my home office back. Winning! </div>
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In other news, the smallest member of our house has recently joined her first basketball team and she's loving every minute of basically running up and down the court knowing very little about the game she's supposed to be playing. Still, as it turns out, when you're six, people forgive you for that and they actually think it's kinda cute and funny. I reckon she's got about four to six weeks left of the cute factor before people start wondering if she's better off handing out the oranges at half time. Time will tell but for now, jersey number 5 in the Under 9's Sparklers team is happier than a pig in a bog and that's good enough for me.<br />
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Miss 11 is now officially half way through year six at school. Just writing that sentence reminds me that time is travelling at warp speed and I'm simply not keeping up. Surely, it was five minutes ago that we were shipping her off to her first day of prep in an over-sized school dress and shiny new shoes? Are her primary years really drawing to a close? As I glance over at the girl balancing precariously between childhood and adulthood trying desperately to be a little more adult than child, I'm reminded that indeed her high school years are just around the corner and that she's preparing to close the door on her childhood for good - and I'm awfully unprepared. There will be more to write about this as the months tick by this year, I'm sure. <br />
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So enough from me - tell me what's happening in your world? Anything amazing? Challenging? Downright bloody awful? I'm pouring the cups of tea as we speak and I'm all ears. <br />
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-49697780014939609312015-05-17T17:43:00.000+10:002015-05-17T17:43:03.909+10:00Raspberry And White Choc Muffins - Julie Goodwin Style<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | Raspberry And White Choc Muffins</span></span></td></tr>
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So as my quest for Mother Of The Year continues, at some point every week I'm baking homemade yummy stuff for the lunchboxes. I know - I'm a regular Margaret Fulton. Sadly, I missed out on a MOTY nomination this year but I reckon these muffins would have<i> definitely</i> got me over the line. </div>
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Today, it's raspberry and white chocolate muffins, a recipe taken from the fabulous Masterchef herself, Julie Goodwin. I love Julie - she's down to earth, she cooks stuff that all of us can successfully conquer (not major flouncy stuff) and it's always deadset yummy. So in the spirit of sharing the deliciousness, here's Julie's recipe. It works. And it's yum.</div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Raspberry and White Choc Muffins</b></span></i></span></div>
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Ingredients</div>
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2 cups of self-raising flour</div>
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3/4 cup caster sugar</div>
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3/4 cup white choc buds</div>
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1 1/2 cups of raspberries</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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1/2 cup of milk</div>
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1/2 cup of vegetable oil</div>
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Method</div>
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Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl (include the choc chips).</div>
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Chop half the raspberries, combine all the berries with the dry ingredients.</div>
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Make a well in the centre of the bowl.</div>
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Whisk the eggs, milk and oil in a smaller
bowl. Pour into the well and mix with a spoon or spatula until just
combined and there are no lumps (but don't over mix)</div>
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Spoon mixture into muffin cases and bake at 180C for 20-25 minutes.</div>
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Eat at least one warm - it's a crucial step. And while each bite may require two hours on a treadmill to cancel out the damage, I have no doubt you'll agree that it's totally worth it. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-66303319285121037592015-05-15T18:29:00.000+10:002015-05-22T13:36:27.415+10:00The Dangers Of Being A Social Media Vigilante<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5g6TGoRMJKc/VVWppwxgYBI/AAAAAAAACUg/QqxidNk80jY/s1600/sheriff3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5g6TGoRMJKc/VVWppwxgYBI/AAAAAAAACUg/QqxidNk80jY/s320/sheriff3.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGE : MORGUEFILE.COM | Being A Social Vigilante</span></span></td></tr>
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Here's a good lesson for all of us to consider if we ever choose to become a social media vigilante.<br />
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Earlier this week, a Dad was shopping alone when he spotted a life size Star Wars figure outside Target. He promptly decided to take a selfie in front of it for his kids. (Yup, a little nerdy, but sweet and harmless nonetheless). There were other children around him waiting for their turn and as he held up his camera phone to take a pic of himself, a woman assumed he was photographing in the direction of where her children were standing. Thinking he was a predator, she promptly snapped a pic of him, shared it on her Facebook account, publicly accused him of being "a creep" while calling for everyone to keep an eye out for him and report him to the police.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>A social media frenzy then ensued, and it didn't take long until the man's wife recognised him, in horror. The man, a father of three who was obviously devastated and humiliated by this misunderstanding, promptly checked into his local police station to explain himself and to have his phone images thoroughly inspected. He was deemed to be innocent and the matter was closed. The woman who shared the post, after realising her mistake thanks to the wrath of the online community who berated her for the devastation she had caused an innocent man, publicly apologised and conveyed her own heartbreak about the way she was treated online for her incorrect assumptions in the first place. Still following? Read the article <a href="http://www.essentialkids.com.au/entertaining-kids/games-and-technology/melbourne-mum-apologises-after-wrongfully-accusing-father-of-three-on-facebook-20150512-ggzq3l.html" target="_blank">here. </a></div>
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Sadly, our society has learned to make fairly hasty and extreme judgement calls around the subject of men and little kids. I'm certainly in favour of vigilance but I also subscribe to the theory that men should not be considered to be predators before they've proven otherwise. With regard to this case however, I would say that there are some important social media lessons we can learn from this terrible misunderstanding. While social media platforms such as Twitter, Instagram and Facebook are great tools for getting your message out to an infinite number of people quickly when you lose your dog, it's also a great way to ruin the lives and reputations of others through carelessness, public shaming and haste. Social media gives people a megaphone in a virtual crowd and provides a good dose of dutch courage to have their say, to feel popular and to spruik a message which doesn't necessarily need to be substantiated before it spreads. But what people often don't consider, is that not only are there consequences for the person at the centre of a witch hunt such as this, but there is often a significant amount of hate and backlash for the person doing the posting if indeed they are being unfair and/or inaccurate in their public judgement. In addition, it's easy to forget that forever more
there is an online record of an incident like this one for all to see,
regardless of the outcome. And, as we know, judgements will be made about both parties
here for as long as the story exists in this space.<br />
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The art of learning healthy online interaction really is a minefield where every step needs to be considered from all sides before it's taken. And the lessons just keep on coming as almost daily we see others (and hopefully not ourselves) make hasty public misjudgements of others and consequently wear huge personal consequences for their mistake. So by all means, let me know online when old 'Fido' is missing - I'll be the first to back you and share your cries for help. But we should all remember (and where appropriate teach our kids) to make well-considered judgement calls online before we become outspoken social media vigilantes.</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-27166165589530247482015-04-16T23:32:00.001+10:002015-05-13T16:25:23.305+10:00Ten Things About Me<div>
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Hey! I want to write and write but there's literally nothing happening in my life worth sharing this week. Nothing, I tells ya. Do you have 'bell jar' weeks like that? Literally, NOT ONE THING about me is interesting right now. So, in the spirit of the Instagram hashtag <b>#tenthingsaboutme</b>, I'm sharing some bits and pieces about myself that most people don't know. Here goes. </div>
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<span style="color: #666666;">TEN THINGS ABOUT ME!
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<b>1.</b> I'm an only child. It's cool though, I'm not a spoilt brat and I'm only a little bit dysfunctional. I like to think that my folks perfected the whole parenting thing the first time and didn't need to have a second crack at it. And, unlike most other only children, I never ever wished for a sibling. That's pretty weird now that I have two kids who can't function without each other, nonetheless, I'm still okay about it just being me. Incidentally, my parents met in 1972, I was born in 1973 and they were married in
1974. Do the math. Yup, just call me Spawn of Satan - it wouldn't be the
first time. Those crazy 70s.</div>
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<b>2.</b> I did a music degree at university, completed eight years of classical singing exams, and I sang in a band throughout my uni days. Just don't ask me to sing if you know me - I simply WILL NOT do it and it'll be much better for your opinion of me if I don't.</div>
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<b>3.</b> I have Hashimotos Disease which is an auto immune issue associated with a very lazy, sluggish thyroid. So annoying. Always. So. Tired. *bangs head on keyboard*. And the hair loss! I can't believe I'm not completely bald or at least looking like one of those featherless galahs by now. </div>
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<b>4.</b> In 1989, I was one of the kids who ran out onto the MCG in the half time "entertainment spectacular" at the legendary Hawthorn/ Geelong AFL Grand Final. I know. Jazz hands and all that. We pitched for the Melbourne Olympics that year and in the spirit of the pitch, we had to wear tiny, green and yellow bike shorts with white Dunlop Volleys. Nuff said. Clearly, someone in the costume department was havin' a laff. It was pretty epic though. And for the record, it's no mean feat running from one end of the MCG to the other doing a step-ball-change move in Dunlop Volleys while carrying giant flag! Just sayin'. </div>
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<b>5.</b> I had my 8th birthday on the set of the Don Lane Show where my Dad was the musical director. At the end of the show, the crew brought in a cake and sang Happy Birthday. I was equal parts mortified and thrilled especially given Ita Buttrose was one of the guests that night and she sang to me too. Hands up who can say that Ita was at their 8th Birthday?! Eh? Thought not. (Unless of course you're one of Ita's own children but surely you get my point).</div>
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<b>6.</b> For a period of time in my tween years, I was a bit of a horse nut and I rode in some hoity-toity dressage championships at the Royal Showgrounds. I wore a wig, a blazer, cream jodhpurs and long shiny black boots and I did okay for a late starter, scoring a few fancy rosettes. Sadly my riding career was not to be, as we moved far away from Melbourne and from my beloved riding teacher when I was thirteen. I certainly enjoyed it for a time, but it clearly wasn't a long term passion. </div>
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<b>7.</b> Despite not being an academically strong student, I somehow scored an A+
in my final HSC/ VCE English exam. I know! Imagine my surprise (and
that of my parents!). Truthfully, I thought I'd totally buggered that
one up, along with all the rest of them. Turns out I DID bugger the rest of them up a bit, just not that one. Goes to show you never can tell, kids. <br />
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<b>8. </b>My Grandmother was completely blind and had both legs amputated due to diabetes. She sat in a chair all day, and I often sat with her and we played 'Eye Spy' (I know! The irony!) because I spent a lot of time with my grandparents when I was young. I loved it. She would always say, "come here - I want to feel you" and she'd feel my face, arms and my tummy to check if I was wearing a singlet in the cool weather. I guess blind people build their picture of you with the touchy feely hands, especially when you're an adored kid who's growing and changing all the time. I never thought twice about my regular pat down - it was all part of our usual greeting. Her name was Queenie Elizabeth. No, I'm not kidding. And she was the best, as was my Grandfather. </div>
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<b>9.</b> I overthink EVERYTHING. Actually, if you've read anything here on the blog you already know that, but seriously, I hardly sleep for the multitude of thoughts that go round in my head. And I beat myself up ALL THE TIME because I don't think I'm doing enough about being a better person. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, but I overthink it constantly. Yay for the crazy, manic brain at 3am! </div>
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<b>10. </b>I love my girls so much it actually hurts. I'm not even close to being a perfect parent but I've realised lately that I'm doing the best I can and that's enough. So far, nobody has knocked out any teeth, no one has stuck a middle finger up at me or asked to move to their grandmother's so the child-rearing caper is working out okay for now. So much love and yet so much to worry about! Am I right? </div>
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That's ten already? Well then, in the spirit of completing the hashtag as required, I now tag you! Leave a comment below if you want to share something that most people don't know about you. (I'm already trembling with anticipation!).</div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-87573919987647090892015-04-09T12:52:00.002+10:002015-04-17T17:33:49.811+10:00Getting Crafty With CleverPatch<div>
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Look at us! We're doing craft! (I know. It's a certified miracle - save your applause, please.)<br />
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As a parent, you either love the idea of craft or you loathe it. I so wish I loved it a bit more but I must admit I'm usually too busy quietly stressing about the state of my Eames chairs under all that paint, glue and glitter to really relax and let go. I know. Life's too short. (But c'mon! Eames chairs, yo!) Admittedly, my two girls are both really creative types so I often find myself having that eternal parenting struggle between protecting the furniture and simply letting them go for it. Too often, the furniture wins. </div>
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Having said that, yesterday we absolutely, undeniably went for it. Craft ahoy. </div>
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Recently I was lucky enough to be sent some fabulous craft packs from Australian creative online store, <b><a href="http://www.cleverpatch.com.au/" target="_blank">CleverPatch</a>.</b> Have you heard of them? I hadn't, but again I didn't previously seek out craft! CleverPatch's products are just gorgeous and they are presented so beautifully. If you have kids who love to create then you HAVE to check out their <b><a href="http://www.cleverpatch.com.au/" target="_blank">website</a>.</b> Every themed pack comes complete with all the crafty requirements from glitter to glue, pens to paint, and all kinds of pom poms, stickers and miscellaneous materials required to create a masterpiece at any age. Using the included instructions, we created Easter bunnies using polystyrene and little chicks using wool and felt (admittedly this stretched my ability but that's more about my immense lack of patience and drive for perfection than about the product itself). We made a framed plaster hand cast from Plaster Of Paris which we set and then painted, we created a dreamcatcher using feathers, and we drew countless pictures using their fabulous Super Silky Twist crayon pens. Miss A especially loved using the black scratch boards that came with a little stick, allowing her to scratch out her drawing, writing (and random scribbling). Legal and legitimate scratching of a surface - right up her alley, I'd say. </div>
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So if you're a parent or even a teacher of any age group, check out the CleverPatch website <b><a href="http://www.cleverpatch.com.au/" target="_blank">here</a></b>. You and the kids will love it, I promise. When using their products and packs, I would suggest that an adult be present to assist with the step by step instructions and also having a little PVA glue on hand to create some extra-strength stickiness is a good idea. Give it a go! You'll totally be in the running for Mother/ Carer/ Teacher Of The Year. </div>
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Now please excuse me while I go and clean glitter from every crevice of my dining room and also from the inside corners of my eyes. I know - one of life's big mysteries. </div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">* THE MOTHER LOAD WAS GIFTED PRODUCTS BY CLEVERPATCH FOR THE PURPOSE OF REVIEW. ALL OPINIONS EXPRESSED ARE MY OWN. </span></span></div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-42040121126028351482015-03-22T11:30:00.001+11:002015-04-15T22:17:01.659+10:00I Hate Swimming Lessons<div>
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Between the hours of 5-5.30pm every Friday you will find me at home dedicating the necessary amount of time to breathing deeply and recovering from the insanity and mayhem that is, the after school swimming lesson.</div>
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I hate swimming lessons. It's not actually the lessons per se, but more the indoor pool environment that I've grown to loathe. I. Hate. It. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>Let it be said that I'm a fairly reasonable person. No really, I am. Sometimes it may seem like I'm a bit off the charts in the overthinking department but really, I'm <i>generally</i> pretty tolerant of other people and whatever ridiculous public behaviour they choose to adopt in their quest for winning at life. BUT. Christ on a bike. After spending an hour on a Friday arvo battling the hordes of tired, miserable children and their often equally miserable carers at the swimming pool, I'm just about ready to channel Samuel L. Jackson's character in Pulp Fiction with an<i> "I'm a mushroom-cloud-layin' motherfucker, motherfucker! I'm Superfly T.N.T., I'm the Guns of the
Navarone!" </i>typa thing<i>. </i>Get my drift? <i><br /></i>
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The crowded, noisy and overheated public swimming pool seems to transform ordinary people from cheery, polite individuals into savage beasts who intend to get through the half hour of hell at the absolute expense of those around them. I'm reminded of many joyous events in recent times, but most particularly I recall last week's episode starring the lady who thought that the seat my friend had momentarily vacated to throw something in the bin three metres away would indeed be better used for her dripping child who had simply grown tired of her lesson and had folded into a fit of screaming tears. She landed her kid in that seat like an ninja. My friend not 20 seconds later returned to her seat where her bags were neatly tucked underneath but alas, she could not politely convince the lady that she had been sitting there not 20 seconds ago and hence after a battle lost, my friend had to stand while the pouty child occupied the seat in question for the entire duration of the lesson. MANNERS, LADY!! MANNERS! </div>
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I also raise my glass to the grumpy grandmother, who clearly was no longer enjoying the novelty of taking the grand-kids to their weekly swimming lesson (I'm with you there, Lady) and who decided that my child's swimming bag was indeed the perfect combination of soft and comfy for her toddler to sit on. Dripping wet. I can't even.. just no words. So knowing that it would be politically incorrect to give an eighty year old woman the mother of all Chinese burns, I bit my tongue, clenched my fists, ripped the bag out from under the kid, and glared at him instead. (I know. Not my finest hour). </div>
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And sadly, the beastly behaviour is not limited to the confines of the chlorinated hell chamber either - the toxicity vomits out into the swimming pool car park too. I realised very quickly that the swimming fraternity had dropped to a new low when after the lesson recently as I grumpily dragged wet children, dripping towels and school bags out to the car, a new level of my mental resilience was required indicated by the large crisscross chess board someone had meticulously drawn on my bonnet with their car keys. Checkmate, bitches! You win again! Nonetheless, kids were present so channelling my calmer, responsible self I said, "Let's breathe through it". </div>
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"There are worse things in life!" I said. </div>
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"It's an isolated incident!" I said. </div>
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"Girls!! Get in the GODDAMN car RIGHT NOW!!" I may have also said.<br />
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And just this week, the car park fun continued as someone squeezed their car in so close to mine that I had to climb through my boot i<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">n order to occupy the driver's seat wearing skinny jeans (you feel me?) while navigating over enough luggage to fill a regional airport. </span>
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"Hooray!" shouted the kids.
"Look at Mum! She looks funny!" </div>
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Yes, I know. Hilarious. </div>
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"For the love of GOD just make room for me as I somersault through the backseat you ungrateful bloody brats" may, or may not have been the response I gave in my head. SEE?? That place was turning ME into one of THEM!! And incidentally, unless the other driver's name was Flat Stanley, I wanna know how the hell that miserable contortionist got out of their car in the first place. Seriously NO gap at all. None. </div>
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But dammit, my six year old bloody loves her swimming. She smiles like a split watermelon and waves at me all the way through the lesson and as I'm battling the unsavoury personalities around me, I'm keenly aware that whether I like it or not, I'm here at this pool for the long haul. And it's that little beaming face bobbing up and down excitedly in the water that keeps me (reluctantly) coming back every week. So with that in mind, I can either become one of them and rudely shove people to the side in order to make it bearable for myself, or I can do as I've done every week and grit my teeth, remain civil, probably snap unnecessarily at my kids for 20 minutes post-lesson, then calmly assume the foetal position when I get home. </div>
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I choose the latter. But with a bottle of gin. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-69934965270278368912015-03-18T21:10:00.000+11:002015-03-31T13:11:36.349+11:00Am I Blogging As My True Self?<br />
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I've been asking myself this question quite a lot lately. </div>
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<i><b>Am I really blogging as my true self?</b></i></div>
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This question has been bugging me in recent times, niggling away at the creative side of my brain which most of the time also doubles as my harshest critic. Truthfully, the answer is that I'm no longer sure. Maybe I am but I feel a bit of a disconnection to my own story lately and the words aren't flowing quite so freely. I feel like maybe I'm censoring myself a bit? This might be because I'm going through a few life changes; not the type of changes that see me driving a red sports car and shouting hormonal obscenities at random strangers, but more the kind of lifestyle changes that flip your world upside down while you hang on by your fingernails and hope for the best. More about that later.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>I suspect that for me, there are a couple of reasons for this recent self-imposed censorship. Perhaps it's because part of these life changes involve other people whose stories aren't for me to share? I've always professed that not everyone in my life signed up for this 'oversharing' debacle that is The Mother Load, and I still try and ensure I enforce my own rules around this. Also, I think the more people that show interest in my writing who I actually know <i>personally</i>, the more sensitive I've become to what I'm writing about, out of fear of being too exposed and appearing vulnerable. Not sure about that one, but maybe...? If that's true, that's pretty ridiculous for someone like me who spends a lot of time in the online space, isn't it? What a contradiction. It seems I'm diluting what I share and that's kinda stupid because that's not why I started The Mother Load in the first place. I didn't start blogging for recognition or any kind of pat on the back. I started this journey to collect my own thoughts - good or bad and also for the benefit of any readers who at some point might take something away from whatever they've read here, perhaps improving their own journey. Maybe finding the balance between the written word and personal sharing is just a little trickier than I imagined when there's an audience loyally subscribing to whatever words are coming next? </div>
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So I need to get back to some genuine, real writing. And I will! I just need to get over my own insecurities about being personally judged and appearing vulnerable. I am vulnerable! Aren't we all? You can't be a personal blogger without judgement or some kind of vulnerability, right? Surely, it's par for the course. A personal blogger who's not particularly personal? Seems pretty stoopid really. </div>
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Anyway, there's soooo much to natter about! Anyone who knows me will agree that I'm rarely short of a word! I'm sure the place I'm at right now could use a bit of downloading - I'm convinced the words will come when I remove my self-imposed gag and when the time is right. </div>
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Sooo..thanks for listening. Oh and by the way, it's great to have you here (if you're indeed still hanging in). The echo in the room grows less prominent with every new reader who joins a blogger on their journey of ups and downs, and for those who have hung around with me so far and who plan to stay a bit longer, you are totally awesome. </div>
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-34706886038214240682015-03-03T13:27:00.003+11:002015-04-15T22:17:44.979+10:00The Movement For Change - A Family Violence Forum<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGES : MARC ALPERSTEIN AND THE MOTHER LOAD | </span></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Movement For Change</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">"I want to tell people that family violence happens to anybody, no
matter how nice your house is, no matter how intelligent you are." </span></span> </i> </span></b></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="color: #9fc5e8;"><b> </b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #666666;"><span style="color: black;">Rosie Batty, Australian Of The Year 2015. </span></span></span></b></span></i></div>
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Here's a statistic that I didn't know existed before I took notice of Rosie Batty and her anti-family violence campaign. Domestic violence happens to <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><b>1 in 3</b></i></span> women here in Australia. <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i><b>1 in 3</b></i></span></span>. The Breast Cancer Australia Network suggests that 1 in 8 Australian women are likely to be diagnosed with breast cancer under the age of 60 - that's a high and pretty devastating statistic in itself but <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b>1 in 3</b></span>??! If that's the case, how do we not all know at least two women around us suffering some kind of family violence? Truthfully, the answer is we probably do. We probably just don't know about it because of a) the stigma attached to being a victim of domestic abuse and b) because a large portion of society suggests that in some way the woman is to blame if she doesn't "just leave".</div>
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And therein lies part of the problem. Stigma, a lack of understanding and support, and silence. </div>
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<a name='more'></a>Last week, I was fortunate enough to attend a panel discussion on the difficult subject of family violence, hosted by <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><a href="http://www.thenappycollective.com/" target="_blank">The Nappy Collective</a></span> (look them up - they're doing amazing work in the community). The panel of experts hosted by Giaan Rooney included Sandra Jacobs, founder of The Nappy Collective, Detective Superintendent Rod Jouning, Head Of Sexual And Family Violence, and Australian Of The Year 2015 Rosie Batty. While I felt incredibly privileged to be asked along, I also felt like a bit of a fraud. What do I know about family violence? What can I do to help? I knew there was a lot to learn about the subject and I initially felt as though I wasn't going to be able to contribute much, given I was so far out of my depth on a subject that was too important to pretend I truly understood. </div>
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But then I met Rosie. I heard her speak. I asked her questions. She spoke to me knowing that I was not an expert and gave me the sense that it was perfectly acceptable to feel passionate about a cause even without any personal experience to draw upon. Throughout the course of the evening, I quickly realised the purpose of my inclusion in this campaign. As bloggers, we may or may not have personal experience with domestic violence but we have a voice. We have the ability to communicate a message however we choose, to a vast number of people who trust us for our words and who perhaps share our passion for a cause. As bloggers, we have a voice that the media or the support organisations aren't allowed to have; we have freedom to express our feelings towards a cause and as long as we're sharing accurate and helpful information, we too can make a difference. That being said, here are some key messages from the panel discussion that stayed with me.</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Key Points From The Forum</span></span></i></div>
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Already in Australia this year,<b> <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i>fourteen</i></span></b> women have been killed due to a domestic dispute. And as I write this very sentence, the story of Tara Costigan from the ACT who was killed by her ex-partner ONE week after giving birth to a baby girl has literally just surfaced on my newsfeed. There's now <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b><i>fifteen</i></b></span> women dead and it's only the beginning of March. </li>
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<li>Family violence is NOT a socio-economic problem. It is occurring across all classes, races, and cultures here in Australia. Rosie's quote, "I want to tell people that family violence happens to anybody, no
matter how nice your house is, no matter how intelligent you are" rings true especially when you meet her and hear her speak. Indeed there are <i>symptoms</i> of abuse such as unemployment, mental health issues, drug and alcohol abuse but they are not the sole root of the problem. Gender inequality is the problem. Men needing to feel power over women for whatever reason and a general lack of respect for their female counterparts. That's the issue. And this needs to change.</li>
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<li>Clearly, the judicial system requires change. So often in recent times, we've seen how the system has failed a woman and her kids, Rosie's case being no different as she described her journey through the court system as "navigating a minefield in a war zone". The five key organisations of child protection, police, corrections, family violence services and the courts are currently not working together as effectively as they could be so we need to see a unified front for all these key areas before real change for the better can occur.
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><i><br />What Can We Do?</i></span></span></li>
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It sounds obvious but apparently it's not. We need to stop blaming
the victim. The question, "why doesn't she just leave?" is ignorant and
unhelpful. There are many reasons why she doesn't just leave including
fear and no guarantee that she's any safer on the run. And why should
she leave? Why does the women need to turn her life upside down to fix
the situation when the man's behaviour is the cause? Why should the
woman be on the run, living in fear without the guarantee of absolute
long term safety? Behaviour from the perpetrator needs to change and
victim-blaming and judging needs to stop. </li>
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<li>We need to draw upon good men around us and ask them to speak out and support the cause. Rod Jouning described a police incident at a local country footy game where in front of a crowd of mates, a man broke the jaw of his partner, then picked her up by the hair and one leg, and threw her into the car after she requested that it was time to get the children home for dinner. The act of violence is clearly appalling but what's just as hideous is that NOT ONE person, male or female stepped in to prevent this incident from happening as it took place. Everyone simply watched and let it happen. That's totally unacceptable and a clear indication of why this problem has gotten so bad. Where were his footy mates? Why did they not leap to her defence and challenge him on his abhorrent behaviour? Men need to speak up, challenge bad behaviour and help incite change. </li>
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<li>If we know someone who is experiencing family violence, as friends or family members we need to be careful about offering them advice. According to Rosie, during her journey through domestic abuse at the hands of Luke's father Greg, she found the well-meaning advice of others unhelpful and it felt like a precursor to their judgement. What Rosie does suggest is that we assist those in the situation to tap into support services such as <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><b><a href="http://www.dvvic.org.au/" target="_blank">Domestic Violence Victoria</a></b></span> or equivalent crisis lines; these services were crucial in her navigating her journey due to the real support they provided and their lack of judgement. </li>
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<li>Perhaps we need to start looking at school programs which focus on educating kids about respect for each other, about gender equality and how to have meaningful relationships? I'm a big believer in starting the conversation and inciting change in the earlier years before unhealthy behavioural patterns are formed. While I know that a child's environment plays a significant role in their learned behaviour, perhaps proper education and discussion at school could make the difference as kids grow and begin to form relationships with each other or with the opposite sex? Teaching kids about respect and boundaries seems crucial in this campaign and feels very much a part of the 'prevention is better than cure' argument.
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<li>Finally, we need to starting talking loudly about family violence in Australia and not make assumptions about it being irrelevant in our own communities. <span style="color: #6fa8dc;"><i><b>Fifteen</b></i></span> women have died at the hands of their partners or ex-partners in the two months of this year. We need to give this issue the same level of support as cancer research, or as much exposure as the threat of local terrorism. </li>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">IMAGES : MARC ALPERSTEIN | The Movement For Change</span></span></td></tr>
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So I intend to talk loudly about this issue. I'm still learning about it, and I may express myself clumsily at times,
but what I do know is that family violence has reached epidemic levels
and something needs to change. I hope you'll join the movement and begin to talk loudly too; the silence has gone on for too long. Family violence may not be an easy topic to be loud about but we owe it
to these women and indeed to kids like Luke Batty to support the cause
for change however we can.
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If you or someone you know is experiencing family violence and immediate support is required, get in touch with Domestic Violence Victoria for access to further resources and assistance.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sEgKH8MnSio/VPUgtEOd48I/AAAAAAAACJs/i-2js8JUOT4/s1600/LukeB.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sEgKH8MnSio/VPUgtEOd48I/AAAAAAAACJs/i-2js8JUOT4/s1600/LukeB.JPG" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
<b>Domestic Violence Victoria </b><br />
<a href="http://www.dvvic.org.au/">http://www.dvvic.org.au</a><br />
<a href="http://www.dvrcv.org.au/support-services/national-services" target="_blank">http://www.dvrcv.org.au/support-services/national-services </a><br />
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<b>Safe Steps Response Line</b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Phone: <a href="tel:1800%20015%20188" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" x-apple-data-detectors-type="telephone" x-apple-data-detectors="true">1800 015 188</a></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: small;">Police, Fire Or Ambulance</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Phone: 000 </span><br />
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3824498722063465184.post-76992157030239720202015-02-26T13:13:00.000+11:002016-01-18T18:52:33.926+11:00Lunchboxy Stuff...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">IMAGE: WWW.LITTLEBENTOWORLD.COM</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">* NOT A SPONSORED POST BUT AN AFFILIATE PARTNERSHIP EXISTS. </span></span><br />
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Look! Bento Lunch boxes!! I know! Bento! <br />
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Do you have a bit too much love for lunchboxes like me? If not, you're excused and may I suggest you read one of my more sensible and thought-provoking posts. If you love the plasticware vibe in a most unhealthy way, let's chant the mantra together:<br />
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<b><i>"While my plasticware drawer may be spewing containers, dividers and colourful lids, I do indeed have room for one more lunchboxy thing"</i>.</b><br />
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Say it with me.<br />
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<b><i>"While my tupperware drawer may be spewing containers, dividers and colourful lids, I do indeed have room for one more lunchboxy thing"</i>. </b><br />
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Are you now convinced? <br />
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You need to check out Little Bento World. They have really cool lunchboxy stuff and if you're on the long and arduous quest for the perfect school lunchbox as I am (it's been an eight year journey so far), <b><a href="https://littlebentoworld.com/TheMotherLoad/Homepage125x125" target="_blank">head to their website here</a> </b>and all your plastic-based problems may well be solved. Or at least your craving for that one more piece of cute plastic will be fulfilled. Either way, winning!</div>
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(Now get yourself to therapy before it's too late, you plastic obsessed minx...)<br />
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The Mother Load (Australia)http://www.blogger.com/profile/17184903707604495342noreply@blogger.com0