So Close

Pinocchio Presents

 I am the key speaker at a fund raising event tomorrow night. I am doing my thing in front of 450 people. If I wasn’t on happy pills and Chardonnay, I would be vomiting with nerves right now.

Instead I am deliciously mellow and in love with life. La la laaaaaaaaaa. Speech? What speech?

In addition, I am sporting several gouges on my rather large schnozz thanks to Adam. We were horsing around and as I wrestled him to the ground he grabbed on to the biggest thing he could reach. My nose. Have scratches and marks all over it.  V unfortunate. V unattractive.

The lovely folk at the Melka Ella Foundation (wonderful cause! Please donate freely! Love those Jewish folk!) are flying Marko and I up to the dinner. And paying for our accommodation. I, being the generous big hearted giver that I am, am talking for gratis at the event. Am waiving my entire (non-existent) professional appearance fee. Me = winner.

I should be nervous because there are going to be 450 people there. And several important Rabbis. Am wearing same demure outfit as before (borrowed from my mother). Clearly am old hat at this orthodox stuff by now.  

So anyway, how sad is this…..

I used that advanced online check in thing and checked Marko and I  Marko and myself  Me and Marko  Marko and me  the two of us in tonight. That thing where you can pre-book your seats online. Marko loves sitting at the window. I have to sit at the aisle or else I might get trapped in by the two other people in the seats next to me and what if I need to wee and can’t get out and my bladder explodes and then I have a panic attack and die. And neither of us wants to sit in the middle seat. I asked him if it would seem terribly odd if we sat apart and he said he thought it would be fine. So we are sitting in 4A and 4C. Let’s hope we don’t get anyone in 4B. We really are the most unromantic couple in the world.

Anyway, think of me tomorrow night. I must go now because I really have had far too much Chardonnay. 

Shalom aleichem my friends.

What kind of parent are you?

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about you and this bathing thing. Not you in the bath, although there’s a thought…. but rather, the whole hoo-ha about leaving the kids unattended. I always try to understand where the other person is coming from and so I’ve been thinking about how passionately some of you felt about this, and wondering what I feel passionately about. What is my parenting ‘thing’, like your bath thing? And then I started thinking some more about how similar we are in some ways, and yet how different in other ways. And then I thought about how interesting it would be to find out the things you are passionate about, and the things you are less stressed about. About what kind of parent you are, compared to what kind of parent I am. And then I thought that I think too much. But I ignored that last thought and went back to thinking about you. And me. As parents. And I thought I would do a little survey. A meme kind of thing. I’ll do me and you can copy / paste the questions and do you. Or I could do you in the bath. Actually, cancel that.

So, clearly I am not stressed about sitting in the bathroom the entire time while the kids are in the bath, but there are other things that are important to me. This is not meant as judgement on those who do things differently, but rather a reflection of who I am, and what is important to me and my family. Thank goodness we are different. Imagine how boring life would be if we were all the same.

Enough disclaimers and feather smoothing? Good. Let’s get on with it then.

I would never:
Leave my kids unattended with a dog, or any animal for that matter

I always:
Make sure my kids are properly restrained in a car sear or appropriate safety device when I drive

I got an easy ride when it came to:
Potty training – they trained themselves

The part I dislike most about parenting is:
Making sure they eat properly

The part I love most about parenting is:
Seeing the joy and enthusiasm with which they embrace life. That and the opportunity to love another human being so completely and utterly.

My terrible parenting secret is:
My kids eat terribly. Shockingly badly.

I would describe my approach to discipline as:
Too soft

My worst parenting habit:
Too much threatening, not enough action. Plus I yell

The one thing I am really proud of is:
I am a very gentle, empathetic mother

I probably am too lenient when it comes to:
Everything

I hope my kids inherit my:
Compassion for their fellow man

I hope my kids don’t inherit my:
(over) Sensitivity

I love that my kids are:
So self-confident and outgoing

The thing I miss most about my pre-mom days is:
Time alone

Motherhood is:
Both better and tougher than I ever thought possible 

So, if you have kids, tell me more about what kind of parent you are. If you aren’t yet a mother, tell me what kind of parent you hope to be. 

100% pure gratitude

I know I say this all the time, but damn. I am so, so lucky. In all my dreams and desires, I never dared hope I would get this lucky. I am a mother. To two wonderful children. There isn't a day that goes by, that I don't look at them and get that butterfly feeling in my tummy. A heady mixture of gratitude, awe, humbleness, remembrance,  old pain, fresh hope, intense love, fear, wonderment. Words just aren't adequate to describe the depth of this feeling. I am so damn lucky.

Hidden Costs

I love my new boobs. As I have said before, they have turned out way better than I expected. However, along with the upside, comes a few negatives I hadn’t quite factored into the equation. 

Firstly (and not terribly important), I can no longer sleep on my stomach. And you know how if you can’t lie in a certain position, that is all you want to do? 

Secondly, I knew I would have to buy new bras, but what I didn’t realize is that I can no longer buy bras from any run of the mill shop. No more cheap and easy Woollies bras for me, now I have to go to specialist bra shops to get decent fitting bras. Which means spending more $$. And you know how much I hate spending money.

Actually, that is the entire downside. 

I’d write more but my feet are in the foot spa and my battery on my laptop is running low. Bottom line: Boobs lovely, but pricey to uphold. (‘Uphold’ – get it!)

PS That bathing suit am wearing? Bought it on the sale last year, even though it was too big for me. IT WAS MARKED AT 60% OFF!!! So obviously I had to buy it, even if it did gape so badly at top that my gap between my boobs and the lycra was big enough for a moderate sized cruise liner to sail through . But no longer! Thanks to 300cc of the best Eurosilicone $3000 can buy, I now amply fill my bargain buy bather. More upside!

 

In touch with his feminine side

Influential, but not enough to get tickets for the good seats

Being 'influential' clearly helps. Bosom Buddies won the two cell phones.  Thanks to all of you who voted.

I asked my sister whether this charitable act of mine qualified me to jump a few places ahead in the queue and this was her reply:

As for the queue, I am afraid not.  It will however make me love you even more, and up my praying to get you into the queue.  I suspect you might actually be in the queue but you have the tickets for the matinée show and possibly have a pillar in front of your seat for the heaven show.

Sounds like a bit of a crap deal to me. What's the point of doing good deeds if it isn't going to get you closer to the front row?  I mean, really. I am talking cutting edge technology here, not any old phone. Surely the Lord would dig a "truly organised mobile office"?

This lordy stuff sounds like a lot of hard work to me. All that denial and self sacrifice just for the matinée show? Bah! Will stick with being baaaaad instead. 

PS That was a joke.

Yay, Summer!

Advanced Maternal Age

Conversation with cocky new I-am-the-office-clown co-worker (CCW = Cocky Co-Worker). Likely age: 45, going on 15. (Edited to add CCW is a 'he' not a 'she'. Not sure if that makes it better or worse)

Scene: Open plan office, 17 million people within a 2m radius

Me: *grumbles under breath about how tired I am*

CCW: What was that?

Me: I was just saying how tired I am

CCW: Why?

Me: I have almost-three year old twins*, one of which STILL does not sleep through the night

CCW: THREE YEARS OLD? YOU LOOK TOO OLD TO HAVE KIDS THAT YOUNG!

Stunned silence

Me: OMG. Did you just say that I look TOO OLD to have young kids? (Informing the 1.5million people who didn’t hear it the first time)

CCW: *starts stammering and trying to backtrack* Ha ha, well, yes, how old are you anyway. (Fucks it up even further)

Me: *absolutely incredulous and unable to let it go* I can’t believe you just said I look TOO OLD to have young kids. (Let it go Tertia!)

CCW: *mumble / blush / remove foot from mouth / tries to make a joke out of it*

Me: I actually can’t speak to you anymore, please go away.

Back in the office two hours 45 minutes later, after lunch with Madame Pamplemousse and her lovely, lovely husband, Mr P.

CCW: *skulks over and sheepishly whispers* Sorry if I insulted you earlier

Me: No, its fine. You didn’t insult me, you just hit a raw nerve.

And what a nerve it is.  So there you have it folks. It’s official. People think I look TOO OLD to have kids that young. Niiiiiiiice.

BTW, I offered to let Madame P feel my boobs and she refused!!! Don’t you think that is a bit rude? She is a visitor to my country and my chest; if offered an opportunity to partake in some of the local cuisine, she should at least make an effort to appear interested.

I told Mrs P that I couldn’t believe she didn’t want to feel my new fake boobs and she said that it is only me who would find it odd that someone wouldn’t want to feel my boobs. You would feel my boobs if I offered, right? I think it is because she is Scottish. They are very odd, those people. They eat sheep insides. 

Lovely husband though, really sweet. Deserve a medal, that chap. Should have offered the feel up to him.

Please keep your bits crossed for her. She should find out soon whether her IVF worked. Please God let it work. Even if she is at an even more advanced maternal age than I am.

*Can you believe my babies will be THREE in two months time.  It seems impossible. Where has the time gone!

PS: Re my Terrible Mothering Moments yesterday, I am too ashamed to admit it openly.  So I've hidden it in the comments section of the previous post. Worst Mother EVER!

Not my finest moment(s)

May I just say again, how much respect I have for you SAHMs. You deserve a bloody medal. And several days at the spa! And a few really large glasses of wine! I take my hat off to you, really I do. It sucks to be a working mom, but Oh My WORD! Being with the kids ALL day, every day….. How do you not end up wringing their gorgeous little whiny, ungrateful necks?

Rose had to go away at short notice so I took a day’s leave today to look after the kids (Marko is taking a day’s leave tomorrow, HA!) By mid-morning I had several incidents that would not be described as my finest mothering moments.

I called my sister to share one particular incident with her (and to tell her how much I admire her for doing this everyday) and she said that perhaps I shouldn’t share that specific story with my blog readers. It was bad, very bad.

So after a day of whining / fighting / biting / crying / riotous mutiny and general assholiness, I was not exactly thrilled when Marko phoned to say he would be home late. “Fine” I sulked, “But don’t expect the house to be tidy.” What a winner wife.

It gets worse though.

When Marko called to say that he placed his job and his employer above the needs of his family even though they made him work slavishly long hours for a pittance he would be late, he asked whether he should pick something up for supper on the way home (poor bastard. Last time he got a home cooked meal was when he lived with his mom). I said not to worry; I have something in the fridge for him. When he got home and asked what was for supper, I hauled out a microwave TV dinner and said “Here is your supper. It expired two days ago, but I am sure it still fine”.

Um yes. Even I had to admit that perhaps that wasn’t my finest wifely moment. (In my defence, I didn’t know it had expired!!)

Between the “heat it up and let’s hope you won’t die” and the “___insert terrible mothering moment here___” incident, I probably won’t be winning any Wife and / or Mother of the Year awards.

All I can say is thank god I am so incredibly good looking and charming. Because today I pretty much sucked at everything else.

Please go for regular check ups

Not all cancers are preventable. And some cancers are especially aggressive. But regular check ups can go a long way in catching things before it is too late.  A friend of mine who religiously goes for her annual check up was diagnosed with stage 3B ovarian cancer a few days ago. I shudder to think what could have happened if she hadn’t been so vigilant.

She has decided to start a blog, to write about her experience. Please send some positive vibes her way. She is an amazingly brave woman.