Tuesday, April 30, 2013

the history…

This term at School my daughter is learning about history… her history. We have had to create a Shoebox / time Capsule that needed a few small items. 

Of course I left it till the morning it was due and crazily tried plucking out momentous events in her {nearly} 6 short years of life. Had I had left more time, I'm sure details would have been recorded somewhere in my hand written journals. Of which I have many completed.  In the end it was a quick rushed scribble of five little moments in her life thus far.     

In one crushing moment of 'bad motherhood' I could not for the life of me come up with ONE event that happened when she was four. Personally I started this blog when she was four. I battled infertility and raged against the all too familiar regrowth of my endometriosis. I was in and out of hospital and I strived for balance. I struggled to find happiness. Effectively MY history of that year reflected upon her. I regret that year so much. I can't nor more go back and create a single moment; let alone hundreds of moments. And it saddens me. For all that the battle was hard, I am grateful I made the decision when I did. In turn it gave me time to heal. To recover. To start living again.    

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Amazing how one simple task has made me feel so inadequate. I may have journal after journal of words, but when it comes to actually CREATING HISTORY. It feels we are leaving but a teeny tiny footprint on this we call earth. We never have time to travel. When we do go out its usually just to have lunch, have playdates, visit relatives. All this keeps us busy and while every now and then we go somewhere special - I fear we are turning into hermits. Happily ensconced in our lives; content within the nest we have created at home. We need to explore. Experience Adventure. LIVE LIFE.

Last weekend we decided to go OUT. It took us 2 hours to finally settle upon a destination. We chose to travel north and enjoyed a delectable lunch at a surf side cafe and went exploring the rock pools.  

The weekend just gone, we were better organised and headed into the city. Determined to park at New Farm and catch a ferry up the river. The darn ferry was closed at New Farm so we detoured into Southbank and boarded a ferry there (after another delicious lunch) 

It was while we were at Southbank I remembered the markets were on and made my husband walk back and forth trying in vain to find a new journal. 

"Not another journal" he groaned. 

"OH YES. Another" I beamed in response.

Sadly we did not find any handmade journals; which is probably a good thing considering I have about four more ready to fill after my current one. However I may or may not have mentioned to hubby that a paper making kit would be an AWESOME birthday gift… 

All of this has reminded me that while its perfectly okay to research my family history, as well leave my own trail of history in written words; that we also need to live our future history now.    

Monday, April 29, 2013

The future…

Day051 Blue skies

Unknown… found on Facebook  

My weekly job title of Coffee Connoisseur is sadly coming to an end; which of course prompted me to start thinking of the future.

What is it I want to do in life?

While most days I am fairly certain I need a change of career - I can't help but wonder what it would be like to go back to work in some capacity for another company? A new start perhaps? However for this year and possibly next, my job prospects will continue to revolve around our home business while I study in every spare moment I have. Who on earth leaves their study modules until the last year? Me; that's who!

At the moment I am studying two correspondence courses - both of which will give me a Diploma IF I PASS.

A Professional Photography Course and a Professional Writing (Creative) course.

For the past year or so, I've been contemplating a career path utilising both courses and I could never really see how they meshed together. 

Until now.

Earlier in the month I went along to a  seminar at our local library. On the day I was sick and was wishing I was tucked up in bed with my heat pack and cup of hot tea. Wondering why on earth I'd signed up for Freelance Writing. 

Beyond writing my novel - which I'm unsure will ever be good enough for publishing; I have no idea where I'm headed. 

So here I was, sitting amongst a heap of other aspiring writers in my community listening to a seminar on Freelance Writing presented by Tianni Templeton. It was brilliant. Insightful, Informative and Inspiring - exactly what I needed to hear. A possible way of weaving my writing and my photography into something more than just a passion. I walked out of that seminar for the first time in a long while, actually thinking that I could do it. This could be an avenue I could take. Of course my mind starts ticking with all the things I could be doing. Wanting to jump in with both feet, but knowing in my heart that I need to take it slow. My first priority is to finish my 2 courses. In the meantime I am slowly compiling a list. I love lists.   

Who knows. Something like this might be just wishful thinking. Perhaps it will never work out for me and I will need to remove my head from the clouds and look at reality.

For now though, I am going to take this little DREAM of mine and am going to nurture it and use it as my motivation. 

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

A Job Title...

Last week ended in an explosion of attempted tears (you know that feeling like you need a *BIG* cry but no tears are forthcoming) and a lot of soul searching within. 

While I do 'work' for my husband; I have effectively been job-less (i.e. not working outside of the home for another company.) Sure my "job" has lots of perks and none of the stress of previous jobs. And for all intents and purposes, it IS a JOB. If I don't do it, we would need to pay someone else to do it which then technically becomes a REAL JOB.

Suitably confused now?

I will admit to struggling with peoples conceptions of what I do every day and at times it really irks me that I am seen as just another Stay at home mum. My own issues entirely to deal with. However last week became one of those weeks. I rushed from here to there. My house was a mess. I worked hard to meet work deadlines. I fed my family. I rushed there and back. I studied hard and then I just collapsed.

With dirty floors and piles of washing to be folded; a toy room you wouldn't send a dog to live in and a kids bedroom that was knee deep with paraphernalia. It was sinking.

Then there were two comments that got me thinking… Miss 5's new teacher said to me "So what do you do with your days then?" of course I assumed she was accusing me of being a lazy sot, so I quickly jumped the defensive line, "I work for Hubby and I study; a lot" says I.

However… it was in the form of a conversation I had with Miss 5 on the way to school that got me really questioning myself.      

Her: "Mum, what do you DO while I'm at school?"

Me: "I work for Daddy and I study too"

Her: "Yes, but you also drink coffee"

Me: "well some days I do have a coffee. But I do work you know?"

Her: "Yeah, I know that. But even when you work for Daddy - you just stop what you are doing and you go and drink coffee; don't you?"

Me: "um. well. Yeah"

Her: "See. You drink coffee"  

When it appears that your daughter doesn't believe in your work… well it leads one to wonder just what exactly it is you do every day. 

So for this week only - I am officially taking the job title as a part-time Coffee Connoisseur. 

What's your job title? Does it bother you being labelled as something you clearly are not? 

Monday, April 15, 2013

Freeing the Imagination


existing only in the imagination or fancy; not real; fancied: an imaginary illness; the imaginary animals inthe stories of Dr. Seuss.





My daughter has an extremely active imagination… while I like to think she inherits that from me (I am almost always fantasising and making up stories in my minds eye) I've not had this  type of Imagination in my life.

The Simple, yet powerful Imaginary Friend.  

Being an only child, I oft worry that she is missing out. Of being a big sister, personally I think she would have made a beautiful big sister. Of sharing her time with siblings, and playing silly games like I did as a child.

Setting aside all of my crushed hopes and dreams, she has become a perfectly rounded little person. She is compassionate, she is loving and super smart (yes I am slightly biased). She also has an imagination that carries her playtime to a whole new level. She is perfectly content to sit and play with her toys and make up games and chatter away to herself. I know other children with siblings are probably likely to do this too, however I highly doubt it would be a similar level of imaginative play. For the record… I detest the term "only child" I also hate when she is compared to other "only children" (but that there is a whole other blog post!) As with ANY child, one from a family of 6 or one from a family of 1; they are all different in their own unique way. I digress…     

One day CC arrived. Her big sister CC. At first I wondered as she came bearing the same initials as my name - but alas it had nothing to do with me, supposedly she shares the name with a TV show character. Now CC sits in during some of those solitary games and they play nicely together (so I am told) but this story is not about the playtime rituals. This is about a shopping trip last week. My daughter and I.

And CC.

To begin - I had no idea that she had gatecrashed our girly shopping trip and while yes she is a girl, I was not impressed to have her tag along with us. I wanted some Mummy / daughter time! As we naughtily sat and devoured muffins and coffee - our new friend CC sat beside us. Quietly. (and yes, the irony of having to sit at a 4 seater table amidst a busy food court during lunch time rush, was not lost on me!)

Later we started shopping in earnest and there was a lot of chatter coming from my Daughter (honestly this child could talk under water. She. Does. Not. Stop.) as the day wore on, so too did my nerves and as mums are wan to do at times, I started answering in mono-syllables. Yes. Okay. Hmm. Sure. (Come now - I am NOT the only one that does this right???) Plus every 2nd word out of her mouth was about CC. And god-forbid I say something derogatory about CC; I was answered with a withering glare "but mum, thats CC talking right now, she says…" blah, blah, blah. I tried my best to listen, I really did.  

After an hour or two of this, plus a mad dash to the toilet and the thought of another 4 shops PLUS a full grocery shop. The mere mention of CC was wearing on frazzled nerves. In the toilets I mentioned that I had sent CC back to the car and was met with silence then a plaintive "Why?" "Because mummy said so" "OH okay."  

So came the next four stores, still with consistent chatter and the occasional mention of CC and pondered questions of how she was going sitting in the car.

Then as we finished the last of our errands in the 4th store; a mere minute of quiet. My daughter blurts out "Wow, it has been SO QUIET since we sent CC to the car"

Oh. Em. Gee. 


So my question today is about Imaginary friends. Did you have one? Do your children have them? How long do they 'hang' out for and do they ever shut up?

As for my feelings on it… At the moment, I sort of feel the need to nurture her imagination - imaginary friends included. We have discussed that CC is NOT REAL and I am usually met with a withering glare and a "got it mum." I did some reading up about Imaginary Friends last week, even though we hadn't had a mention of her in days and it turns out there is differing opinions on whether kids should or should not have an imaginary friend. Some say it is something that goes away when school begins, some stick around till the age of 7 (my daughter is a little younger than this) and still more say its a sign of mental issues… oh my god. Seriously?

I've sat on this blog post for a few days after reading these silly thoughts - I can't see how different an imaginary friend is during childhood compared to myself writing a story; where I readily admit that the characters 'speak' to me. 

Personally I don't see any harm in it - right now. I see this phase as part of her integral childhood and while she understands that she isn't real, then really is it hurting anyone? Perhaps deep down, I feel guilty that she doesn't have a sibling, hence the need to create an imaginary friend. To be completely honest the whole NO sibling thing has been playing in the back of my head as close family expand their family from one child to two. CC seems to be a recent addition to my Daughters life and I can't help but wonder if perhaps this is her own way of dealing with the fact that she doesn't have a brother or sister.

It makes me contemplate my own decisions and there impact upon others.  

Friday, April 5, 2013

The humble POO Catcher

The story began a long time ago, 2006 to be exact,
Newly pregnant and ready to spend, I wasn't about to be lax. 

Shiny new things, a treasure trove of cute and teeny, 
My credit card got a work out as I told my hubby he was a meany. 

He thought spending twenty-five bucks on a nappy for the bum, 
a waste of his hard-earned dosh, plastic naps were a far cheaper sum.  

I won the fight and spent up big, forgetting I was expecting but one, 
A cloth nappy stash to be proud of, many a day spent pegging them inthe sun.  

Seven years later, the next babe was yet to be, 
The nappies were ageing as fast as you and me.

With regret I pulled out the boxes, of fluffy white, blue and pink,
I packaged them up, shed a tear or two and opted for a stiff drink.  


Okay so far be it for me to pretend I know the first iota about poetry! This is the story of the end. The Last Goodbye to my humble Poo Catchers! 

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A completely Gratuitous photo of my favourite nappy of all - the Boat Nappy  

2006 and just pregnant, I began tentatively dipping my toes in the waters of all things baby. Until that point I had held off buying ANYTHING for babies. I got by purchasing books about babies; non-sensical books but it felt like I was peeping into the lives of motherhood and I felt excited that soon that could be ME. Two and a half years later I got my wish and I put the silly little books to the side as I started to actually BUY baby related goods.

A long time member of a baby forum, I stumbled across the Modern Cloth Nappy Threads (MCN) and my mind went into overdrive. A romantic notion of how cute my babe would look swathed in a cloth bum and it was from that point on the credit card got a VAST working out. I negotiated internally that I was buying them for a purpose. A stash big enough to cloth my babies bum and my future babies. When the idea of future babies never came to fruition, I was happy to lend my vast stash of cloth nappies to my SIL who fell in love with the pretty pink ones. 

Several years later I loaned them out again to a friend who wished to try them.

After that they languished in the deep dark depths of my cupboards. Several times I thought to sell them but I just could not bring myself to start rifling through them. The memories of these mere poo catchers made my throat catch and each time I considered it - I staved the thought to the back of my mind, and closed that cupboard door once more.

Honestly the thought of having to wash each and every one and load each picture up individually - knowing I wouldn't get back anywhere near the $$$ I had spent on them made me shrink inside. Perhaps it was the final chapter of my story that stopped me. The ending of a fine romance.

We are now in 2013, my babe is now fast approaching her 6th birthday (how did that happen so fast?) and still these nappies sat in storage.

My SIL who had sworn no more babies; fell pregnant. She wants the nappies. Then a friend fell pregnant after an even longer time and she too wants some nappies. It made my decision easier, rather than sell them and endure the pain as I remember each one, I could give them away. 

I am gifting them because truth be told I want no money, while I'm sure the money could be wisely spent in other areas - it feels frivolous to put a price on something I once held so dear. In this case its not so much the nappies that I held dear - it was the romantic notion behind the poop catchers; of holding another baby.  

Today I am pulling out 5 bags full of nappies (did I not mention I had quite the stash happening?) and I am painstakingly sorting them out with my SIL. Inside I will be battling the lump that will sit in my throat all day and I pray that I won't shed a tear in her company. I am too strong to weep over a few stupid little poo catchers.      

Thursday, April 4, 2013



  1. Having made a firm decision and being resolved not to change it.
  2. Processing or displaying resolve.

There is nothing quite like someone nipping at your heels and catching you on word counts, that make you pull out all stops and want to start writing again! My story has languished. After storyboarding it sometime late last year, I have since procrastinated every step of the way.

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This is a small section of my Storyboard; all kinds of pretty with its use of Copics and colour. Washi tape and mini Post-its. (did I mention the procrastinating?)   

Then I froze, apart from a small snippet here and there I began writing inane blog posts from how I write on my computer to how I store my files. Ok. Ok. Admittedly they may be totally relevant to the up and coming newbie novelist (hah! I am still one myself!) but do they suit a purpose other than blog fodder? To be completely honest, I was in a writing (& blogging slump) studying, working and motherhood will do that to a woman! So in order to jump back in I needed a series of inane posts to keep this place barely floating. Posts that although won't be worthy of a pulitzer prize - posts that will have me return to this little space I've made.

With any luck, growing it and nourishing along the way until it becomes more. 

When I find the MORE I am looking for, I will be sure to share. Until then, I am absolutely determined to change things around. Shake it up. Rather than be a place just for writing prompts. Or snippets of how crappy life is with Anxiety. I want to evolve and write more. More diversity. More topics. More depth. I think I can do all that but if I am determined to do it - then I know it will get done. 

My story has remained stagnant. Too scared to go back and start (eek) editing. Too scared to move forward to Part 2 (which is a whole new direction). I've done NOTHING bar a few small word prompts. 

Until a writing race earlier in the week spilled a few hundred words and I started to feel the spark.

Last night I sat with determination, pen and paper. A return to old school and I started writing. Watching as each word flowed off my pen tip and onto the page. With a little inspiration from Miss Dove, I was finally writing a decent instalment to my story. And finally starting to incorporate some of what I've learned during my Creative Writing course. It felt wonderful.

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Its messy. Its mistake ridden. Yet it is words. I aimed to write 2x A5 pages, thinking it will be between 4-500 words. I ended up churning out 3.5 that should be closing in on 700 words when I transfer it to the laptop. Until then I plan on more hand writing each day and hopefully with this new direction, it will soon be back on track.