Happy Birthday to Me...

Hi. I'm Michelle. It's my birthday. Besides a cold sore, a throat infection and coughing up a lung, life's just peachy.

Yes I have another notch on my belt, another year down, or another feather in my cap. Or whatever. What's the deal with birthdays anyway? What do people ACTUALLY do on their birthday?

Does the 20 something young thing put on her glitziest dress and her best heels and go on up to the rooftop party in a building in a great big city, where all her friends have gathered in her honour? Her hair is, of course, fabulous, she sips ladylike from a long fluted champagne glass and all attention is on her? whilst the citylights twinkle in the background? Is this what people really do?

I have had some great birthdays. Last year we had dinner at home with all our family, the kids had a cake for me and I met my guitar for the first time. The year before was the big 4 0, so my fabulous friends took me out for dinner and it was special and wonderful, after spending the day with my family. This year it's a bit different. I am sick, my son and mother in law are sick, the hubbster is working, so we are officially putting off dinner and cake til next week, and as he said "just pretend your birthday is next week so we can celebrate then".

But it's today. The good things about today are spending it with my kids and hubby, and receiving good wishes from my important friends in the real world and in cyberspace, who mean alot to me. But besides that, today has been a little less ordinary. And this is why:-

My son is sick too but desperately wanted to still play football so we drove in to town, only to have him run on once then sit out for the rest of the game. We just should have stayed at home. We were expecting some people to arrive at 11am to look at our car for sale, so instead of doing all the little jobs I wanted to do in town, we flew home with nothing done, arriving by 11am. The people came after lunch. And the best part of the day in a bad kinda way is as follows:-

me: takes 2 overdue dvds back to shop

smarmy girl: these are a week late

me: yes I know, I have been sick in bed since the weekend and totally forgot about them. There should be some overdue fees I owe.

smarmy girl: Yep, you owe $64.00 in overdue fees.

me: looks at her and says goddammotherfucking fuck fuck fucking what

me: (no, I really say) are you kidding me?

smarmy girl: nope. $64.00

me: thinks, stop smiling or I'll jump the counter and give you sixty four dollars worth....

me: pays $30.00 and walks out in disgust

The part of my brain that registers overdue library books and overnight only on dvds sometimes OBVIOUSLY doesn't work. It's my fault, I know but this nearly made me cry. What a waste of money. I have decided to go in on Monday and sweet talk the manager and explain what has happened and see if she will waive the outstanding money. I will also ask if they have procedures in place to ring stupid people like me who don't return library books or dvds on time. I rang 3 shops in town and they all give a courtesy phonecall or text if new releases are late. That will be my trump card. Wouldn't you think that someone in the shop would have noticed that not one but two new release dvds were outstanding for a number of days, oh hang on, they are kids movies. Maybe that doesn't count.

If she makes me pay the outstanding money, I am going to cut up my membership card there and then, throw it on the floor, jump around on it and have a mini tantrum, because sometimes people just have to give a little....

The Wrestler

As I apparently(!) have some degree of writing ability, I thought I would try my hand at writing a movie review. The movie of choice is The Wrestler, which I cried through last night.

I have never really been a fan of Mickey Rourke, but I can now say that by the end of the film, I totally appreciate his craft. Physically he was not pretty to look at, and I suppose that added to what the film was about. A down and out, past his prime wrestler, who couldn't let go of his heyday, an eighties star if you will.

Mickey Rourke portrays Randy "The Ram" Robinson in such a way that he is totally believeable. The only thing he knows is wrestling, and he holds onto this even though he is past his "use by" date. Once a big gun on the wrestling circuit, he now makes his living performing in small matches in high school gyms and the like, for his adoring handful of fans. A menial job, and visits to a strip club trying to romance a well toned Marisa Tomei, make up the rest of his time.

I felt a deep sadness watching him trying to cling on to the glory of his past. The scenes where he visits a tanning salon, and a hairdresser to get his blond foils just right were heartbreaking to watch. He is hanging on to a thread of dignity, even with his glasses and hearing aid showing how much older he is. The friendship and good hearted antics he shares with his fellow wrestlers seems to calm his mess of a world, this is the only place where he feels he belongs.

Randy really does seem like a likeable guy. He enjoys mentoring the up and coming, and shows an interest in what they are doing. He loves the recognition he gets from his fans, who really are the only family he knows.

After a particularly violent match, Randy has a heart attack. He retires and takes stock of his life by trying to reconnect with his estranged daughter, played by Evan Rachel Wood. He wasn't looking for sympathy from her, but I felt for him trying to right his wrongs and make something of his life.

But the lure of the fight, and the adoration of his fans were too much to ignore. He decides to come out of a very short retirement and participate in a rematch with the Ayatollah (Ernest Miller), on the 20th anniversary of their previous contest. He is struggling, yes but he fights through the pain because this is all he knows. His speech at the end of the movie, along with the look of sadness in his eyes just before he does his signature move are mesmorising.

Cinematographer Maryse Alberti has given this film a documentary feel by allowing a hand held camera to record Randys life. The camera follows him walking down the narrow steps to the deli he works in as well as the fight ring with his screaming fans waiting. It's a bittersweet comparison.

This film is a character study of a man facing his demons, and his immortality. The resurrection of Mickey Rourke? You bet. The honesty and depth he brings to this character is truly inspiring.

Pic of the day

Fuck. It's Saturday, and I totally forgot about Thursdays Pic of the Day. Any complaints, forward them to the appropriate department. I've been looking at this http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/. It's a place to send in your most "awkward" and embarrassing "I just want to forget about this one" family photos. I've spent hours, well not hours but a long time perusing these pics, and they are funny in a ha ha sucked in kinda way. Shoot me now if I ever, ever post a photo on my blog, that could be "pic of the month" on this freaky site. Here's an sample:-


Check it out, there's more where these came from...

Here it comes again..

Yep. It's found me. It didn't take long. It's May, afterall. What is it Farmerswife, you say? The dreaded sore throat. Yes, it starts in the throat and goes up til my head is ready to explode and my neck glands resemble a puffer fish. I consume so many antibiotics during winter, I'm sure I would be immune to them by now. But when I start to feel like this, supermarket medicine just won't do the trick. Of course, the Hubbster always says "hey I know a good remedy for a sore throat" to which I reply "in your dreams buddy".

I'll get over it. I might go and see the hunky doctor on Monday. On second thoughts maybe I'll go and see someone less intimidating.

Occasionally, late in the afternoon, my blood sugar levels fall. My symptoms include trembling, fatigue, dizziness and a craving for sweets. My treatment consists of shovelling handfuls of cooking chocolate into my mouth, or guzzling coke zero, usually at the same time, whilst being in a trance like state. Once when I had neither, I tried eating milo from the tin with a spoon, but that wasn't the same. When I feel like this, the craving for sweet foods is very strong. After a while, I settle down, then feel sick for a couple of hours because I am full of chocolate.

I am healthy otherwise. Well, once I lose this dreaded 5 kilos that somehow found me again this year, I will be tip top.

Ballerina Girl

Miss D (aged 8 going on 14) had ballet on Tuesday. I decided to stay for the hour and watch through the little peakaboo window like sneaky mothers do instead of going shopping or kid wrangling the other two at the park.

She is in Grade 1 ballet now, and this is her second year in this and jazz. She had on her new blue (grade 1) leotard, her pink tights and her ballet shoes. Her hair was in a high bun, all slicked back and ballerina like.

I watched her doing her ballet moves, and was blown away by how graceful and poised she was. She is quite tall and her posture was perfect. I really thought she was (is) beautiful. Wasn't it just yesterday I struggled through 25 hours of labour to birth my first baby. Just look at her now.

Sometimes, like this moment, I wonder how I got so lucky being a mum to three beautiful healthy children. And sometimes, I still find it hard to believe it's me, when they call me mum. Am I really a mother? Do I really have this amazingly scary and important role to play? I am the centre of their universe and at times, that in itself is scary.

Why I need a shopping list..

I went to the supermarket today to buy tampons and garbage bags but came out with mountain bread, half a cauliflower and a novel from the 50 cent bookstand. Why does my brain turn to pond scum on the walk from the car to the shop?

Time to get tough

Lately our mornings have been the result of our evenings. Because of slackness on my part, each morning resembles a chaotic, jumbled mess.

Because we are not sticking to a routine during the late afternoon/early evening, and boy do I love routines, our mornings are chaotic because of what we don't do the night before. I mean, doing homework in the car ON the way to school, is so not on.

It's known across the world as arsenic hour, c'mon ladies you KNOW what I am talking about. Men, read on, you may learn something. It's that sometimes horrific, sometimes mindshattering time of day usually between the hours of 4pm and 6pm. Something happens in the cosmos that sends even the best tempered kids into a chaotic frenzy and their stressed mothers (moi) into the wine bottle.


Dad may not be home from work at that time, the kids are hungry and tired, mum is hungry and tired, everyone is whinging, someone is yelling, tempers are fraying and so it is. I think it was a term coined for the under 3's set, but I can tell you, we still get it here in the under 8's.

Is this a universal thing, I would love to hear some feedback. Some days are fine, don't get me wrong. The kids may run around and play and be jolly, but that's not common. I am digressing here, but this is the reason why we need a routine, to keep the little beggars in line and farmerswife still sober at 6pm.

It is just a little easier now that my kids are a bit older. I had a 4 yr old, a crazy 2 yr old and a newborn. I often wondered how I coped. They were all bathed and fed by 6pm, even during arsenic hour, so maybe I did okay after all. They were a bit easier to wrangle back then of course. One couldn't walk, so that's always a bonus!

I have decided that I will perk up my afternoon routine, and this is what it will be:-

4.00pm kids playing outside quietly, tennis or totum tennis, bike riding, running around, using energy

4.30pm farmerswife watching Bold and the Beautiful, kids still playing beautifully.

5.00pm farmerswife gets dinner ready, kids still playing (rolls my eyes, yeah right)

5.30pm showers all round

6.00pm dinner is served. Simpsons is on, whatdoyaexpect, we are not perfect!

6.30pm Miss T gets ready for stories and bed, and older kids do their homework.

7.15pm toilet and teeth done before bed for older kids

7.30pm KIDS IN BED Miss D can read til 8.00pm, Mr C can just go to sleep.

7.30pm Farmerswife plonks on the lounge with a wine and her boyfriend (the television).

(be advised that The Hubbster is very accomodating during the crazy time, he usually puts Miss T to bed after stories, and entertains them all if I am busy. Bless him..)

Umm, whilst writing this post, Miss T (aged 4) painted her fingernails and toenails by herself, so I've added another thing.

NO computer for farmerswife between 4.00pm and 6.00pm.

Video cuteness

This would just about equal Christian the Lion in heart melting cuteness. Thank goodness this man has good eye/hand co-ordination. The innocence of animals is truly humbling.

Cowboys, wine and kick ass pool.

It's the day after our kindy raceday, and I actually don't feel too bad. A bit of a headache that comes and goes, but overall I feel fine, considering the copious amount of wine I consumed during the day. I say it's because I don't drink during the day USUALLY so that's why I was feeling quite tipsy around 4pm. In a good kinda way of course.

The day started off fabulously. My son got his first try in football, and it was spectacular, according to all that saw it (I had stayed home to get ready, of course the day I don't go to football, Mr C gets a try!). I did however, praise, kiss and swing him around making a big fuss of him, which he responded to by showing me exactly how it was done, and smiling all morning.

We had a great table of ladies, and we even won ourselves a cowboy. Well we had to bid for him, and he was $95.00. There were cowboys and football players who had donated their time, and all funds raised went to our kindy. Our young and nervous cowboy/waiter was shaking whilst pouring our drinks, but he had one or two and soon relaxed. He said he wasn't going to leave us until we went home, so after the raceday finished we went to the pub and played pool with some of his cowboy friends. My friend and I played some wicked pool shots and it was all great fun. Our young cowboy stayed with us the entire time, and my friend and I went home around 8.15pm, and the cowboys went off to party somewhere. What a nice guy!

There could possibly be balloons growing out of the top of my head....

Cowboy Chris and his two cougars. Meow.

I really like this group photo, but I am going on a fucking diet on Monday. Stupid tuck shop arms....... I'm sure it's just the way I am leaning...

Mystery of Life 2

Why do I find it easier to walk in my high heeled shoes when I've had several wines. No wine = teetering gingerly along. Lotsa wine = skipping and prancing around....

I'm a Laidee..

Our kindy raceday is today. I am just about to get myself ready and play ladies for the day. I haven't been to a raceday before, and (apparently) the women like to get drunk and noisy, so it should be a good day!

The hubbster had the nerve to just ask me "what's for dinner tonight" to which I replied "how the hell would I know". Here's some raceday bling, for my pic of the day, which was supposed to be on Thursday. Opps.

Ha Ha Silly Women

I was watching the news on tv the other day and there was a story about some protestors at Parliament House, or some other important building.

I don't even remember what they were protesting about because the whole thing was riotously funny. There were these women, dressed in their work shirts, skirts and heels sitting on the floor, surrounded by security guards, chanting some mantra about climate change or whatever the F they were going on about that day.

And this is the funny part. Every time a security guard went to remove them from the building, these chicks did the floppy toddler, which is not unlike all my children at aged 2 when they had a tantrum in Kmart. I would go to pick them up and they would go all floppy and impossible to move, and blow me down, these women were doing the EXACT same thing.

They would go all floppy like rag dolls, when the guards were trying to pick them up, and I don't know how security stay so calm in these situations. It was a cringe worthy and embarassing sight to behold, grown women acting like this. I mean if they were drunk I could totally understand, but in this case they were making idiots of themselves. Totally for our amusement!

New Do, New Me..

I went to the hairdressers today. Just in time for the races on Saturday. There's something about getting my hair done that I just adore and my husband just doesn't understand. I can't figure out why he can spend hours in Bunnings, or the tool shop or the fishing and shooting shop and he rolls his eyes when I go to the hairdressers or spend hours in the scrapbooking shop. Opposites attract, so they say!

I love being pampered, reading magazines, having a cuppa and a snack, courtesy of my hairdresser (carrot cake today, so yummy) and getting the obligatory head massage (farmerswife drools). Then I walk out with a new "do" and the greys are gone (yes I am here to admit I get grey hairs, I am not ashamed, they started when I had kids, damn them!!).

I had a cut and colour and foils in blonde and red today, so I went out on a limb and experimented. What do you think?

The hubbster calls them my racoon stripes, and I don't tell him how much my hair bill was, I just take off about $40.00. So I am ready for raceday on Saturday, and hope to publish drunken photos shortly after. Stay tuned!

Night from Hell, so what's new.

I had a night from hell last night. Mothers will know these nights by how wrecked they feel in the morning. It all started off fine but soon disolved into crap. Utter crap. It went a bit like this:-

We put Miss T (aged 4) to bed at her usual time of 7.30pm, and my son and I layed on the lounge and watched some uninteresting show on tv. Soon we were both asleep by 8pm. It's time for an early night, farmerswife thinks. (as I am a nightowl, 8.45pm is an extremely early night).

Everyone else was asleep as I slid deliciously into my cosy king sized bed, which cost us $2500 (crazy price at the time) but is worth every cent and more. I drifted off into a calm deep sleep until I woke at 11.30pm with the mother of all migraine headaches, enough to glue my head to the pillow (where TF did that come from?).

On my left was the hubbster, sound asleep and snoring like a freight train (he finds this hilariously funny when I say this, I just want to punch him out) right in my ear. And on my left, in the kids section of the bedroom, as we are all sharing because we don't have a house (yet) was Miss T crying, twitching, kicking her blankets off, snorting and sniffling.

Every time the hubbster has to work early, it's either a kid wakes up and plays up or the dog moans, barks and kicks her dish around, waking him in the process which is not good. I tried to calm down Miss T, but she wouldn't have it. No, to mummy lay down with you. No, to mummy fix your blankets up.

I finally settled her, and resumed my horizontal position and waited for the codeine to kick in. An hour later we repeated the process, with mummy trying to stay calm, which got harder as the night progressed. Finally after about 8 rounds of this, I felt like saying to her "Go to sleep or I'll put you in the friggin tennis court" but instead I said "Go to sleep and I'll buy you a chocolate tommorrow".

This worked and 10 minutes later, the hubbster woke to go to work, and Miss T went into a deep sleep. Guess who wouldn't get out of bed later on because she was tired. Hmm.

We were both so tired today, that we climbed into bed at 11am, I scratched her back and she was out to it. As was I.

While she was sleeping, I decided to make my lunch. I made this.

Then I whipped up some of these little beauties for the kids afternoon tea.

More choc bits Farmerswife!!

Cuppa tea anyone???

To be thankful for..

I have been thinking lately of the people who are in my life, as permanent fixtures or the type who come and go but leave a lasting imprint on me. I probably don't say it enough, so here's a thank you to:- (the list may get silly, I'm in that kinda mood today...)

* my long suffering hubbster (you know who you are, and I'm not surprised you don't pack up and hide for 3 days during PMT time, ditto to the kids)

*my 3 energetic, noisy, funny, smart, sometimes annoying but mostly wonderful, normal kids - you guys made me a mother..

*my family, who I miss so much and wish I could see every day

*my inlaws - who welcomed me as a googly eyed 20 year old girlfriend to their only son. Who never made me feel uncomfortable when serving me breakfast after "spending the night". And who, whilst in charge of my late fathers will, made the most painful time of my life, just a little bit easier.

* my friends in realspace and cyberspace, from all areas of my life, you are very important to me. You know who you are, go on, give yourselves a pat on the back!

* the man who nearly hit me with his car yesterday.... for not hitting me with his car as I was crossing the road and not concentrating or looking left, right, left... I thought the hubbster (sitting in our car) was going to faint as it all unfolded...

* the helpful, cheery salesgirl in the bra shop who fitted me and sold me the most sexy strapless bra to wear under this hot dress for the races.

* the friendly girls in the newsagency here, who welcome us in every day without fail, and chat away to my kids making newspaper shopping so pleasant.

* the equally friendly local takeaway shop staff who make the best fish and chips and have made me enjoy crumbed fish again.

* my childrens teachers at school and kindy, for looking after my most valued treasures

* the parents of Antonio Banderas for the obvious.

* anyone involved in the series Supernatural for making me drool lustfully every Monday night.

* the talent gods who gave me the ability to dance and the determination to play guitar.

* my beagles for giving me so many years of love and devotion (and stress when they nearly ate the pedigree chickens next door *farmerswife shudders at the memory*)

* the man who waved me into the traffic line the other day, how courteous!

* the makers of childrens Panadol, colour free of course!

* my new blogging friends who send me comments! (oh farmerswife you can't say that,) and who read my blog. Seriously.

I'm loving these right now..

This week I start on a bright and cheery note, and bring you two videos that make my heart melt. The first one, well just watch and tell me you don't get the smoothest feeling throughout your body. Every time I watch this, I get teary (every time).I get that cliched warm and fuzzy feeling you get when something is just so pure and wonderful. Enjoy.



The second video is about an idea that I wished I had thought of. When I watch this and the black and white picture turns to colour, and you will see what I mean, it's almost as if the world gets just that little bit closer to not being so messed up.



You can read all about the Free Hugs Campaign here. Let's have warm fuzzies all round....

Bloggers Bum Again

Here I sit on my bloggers bum, sipping my second cup of tea. I have opened my gorgeous Mothers Day presents from the kids. We have been on the go since 3pm Friday afternoon doing this:-

Friday

Took Mr C to football training.
Drove Miss D to jazz.
Drove back to football where we collected the hubbster and son to go to school disco.
Son decided he wanted to go back to football (to watch the big boys play) so Miss D and I stayed at the disco, while the hubbster, Mr C and Miss T drove (again) back to football.
Collected us from disco, back down to football, ate steakburgers and drinks and chased kids around.

Saturday

Drove into town for sons football game.
Then drove 20 minutes to a birthday party.
Then drove half an hour home, showers all round, then back into town.
Deposited kids at nannas and the hubbster and I smuggled chicken and chips into the movies and watched Star Trek. (hubbster stressing about getting our bag checked because you know, you are not allowed to TAKE food into cinema - you have to eat $7.00 bags of MandMs for dinner (yeah effing right))

So as of now, I haven't even unpacked the kids school bags, the place is a mess, we have visitors arriving at 2pm, I have to go food shopping, one guinea is lost (farmerswife rolls her eyes, guess what I will be doing later) but here I sit because it is Mothers Day and I can do WTF I want.

Well until the hubbster comes home from shooting anyway! (shooting targets, not animals, that's not allowed here, except for the crows that annoy the crap out of us).

Happy Mothers Day to all the mums who are frazzled, stressed, busy, pulled in all different directions, moulded like playdough into resembling some kind of crazy banshee type creation (I feel like this alot) but are also loved and possibly appreciated some of the time.

More stuff about Me

1 My son just had his haircut and I asked him to get in the car and he did. Then he said "Mummy I listened" (see previous post titled "That's his excuse"). I love this so much and I love that he looks so damn handsome with his haircut.

2 During school drop off this morning, Miss T (aged 4) wore her farm boots, her yellow long Dora the Explorer dress, her purple fairy wings, her pink headband and her grubby face. And I couldn't care less. And I'm sure I spotted The Perfect Mother and her perfect princess looking down their noses.

3 When my kids say "what the" (when amazed about something) or OH MY GOD, I secretly smirk even though it annoys the crap out of the hubbster.

4 The only time I will wear tight jeans is when my butt looks hot, which it doesn't right now because I need to lose 5 kilos. Any other time, tight clothes shit me big time.

5 In terms of hours, minutes and seconds, I hate to think how much time I spend on the computer. And it pisses me when the hubbster calls me the facebook queen, because ACTUALLY I only check status updates about 6 times a day, and I work on my blog WAY more than I'm on facebook...

6 My guilty pleasure (apart from the obvious) is sitting at 4.30pm with a glass of wine, The Bold and the Beautiful, the hubbster at work and the kids trashing the bedroom.

8 Sometimes when the hubbster and all three kids are talking to me at the same time, I feel like I am going to implode, not unlike the baboon in the movie "The Fly". Although I don't think he imploded but rather turned inside out, which is also how I feel..

9 Every day I still get excited checking our post office box and how many eggs we get from our chooks. If there's an egg, I'm like "Yippee I'm a farmer!"

10 I had encephalitis when I was in 4th grade, and can still to this day remember the pain from a lumber puncture performed by an inadequate doctor who had me screaming in pain and waking all the babies in maternity.

Sucky Friday

I'm having a suck hole day today. The guineas are off in the bush somewhere, and they will not come back, although the little crappers know how to fly. They are just doing it to piss me today.

We still haven't got our house plans finalised. The hubbster was going in to sort it out with all guns blazing and instead came out with folders to do with skylights (WTF).

And Mr C (aged 6) who had his hair cut and should now be listening, is having a few behaviour issues and I think it's to do with attention. He needs it and obviously is not getting enough (now I feel like a suck hole parent).

Last night, I played handball with him, and his sister got in the way, prompting him to yell "Get out of the friggin way" (farmerswife makes a mental note to stop swearing). Then he did something else obnoxious, so I took him to his money box and said "Right Mister, this is what you lose", and you know what he said:-

"I lose the greatest weight loss percentage!" (another mental note, Mr C watches too much reality tv - The Biggest Loser obviously). Apart from this being really funny and clever, it's not how I want him to talk to me.

It's to do with his lack of one on one attention, I am sure of it. He is such a good boy, he is good at school, there's no issue there. Well maybe that's where it is coming from too. I need to address this NOW. I'll sort it out. My little man.

I've had my cuppa tea and don't feel so nutty now. I just had a frustrated cry in the car about this faceless house. The dream of actually building it doesn't seem so far away, as it did 20 minutes ago.

Pic of the day

Okay just some housekeeping first. For the person (you know who you are)(but will remain unnamed - FOR NOW).

If you continue to put empty cereal boxes back in the cupboard, I will be forced to feed you toast for breakfast each morning with only the slightest scratch of vegemite. Remember, it's Farmerswife who gets in the shit every morning when there is no cereal.

I couldn't decide on my pic of the day so I have chosen two. The first was taken last night, and it is the hubbsters supper of milk and healthy muesli slice, that somehow ended up on the floor. The dog ate the slice and my diminishing white dinner set is now down to 3 plates.

And the second, well I couldn't resist. This was so cute. And the dollies were apparently eating choc bits, according to Miss T.

Stupid people

*Warning - a bit more than usual swearing/or foul language (aren't they one and the same?) in the following post. Parental guidance advised.*

I was reading the paper the other day, how DO i find the time, and I came across this SMS:- (word for word)

**Witnessed a homeless man purchasing a flanno shirt 4 the cool nights in a shop and the workers were laughing and spraying air freshner. To the workers, sewrage smells better than your compassion.**

Kudos to the author for noticing this piece of work, and daggers in the back to the bitches - and I say bitches because men just don't act like this. Why the hell do these people think they can treat others with such contempt and a lack of compassion? This behaviour infuriates me so much that I'm getting a headache.

What do these smartarses really know about this man? NOTHING. He may have a family, or he may be alone. He might have had a good life and turned the corner into the life he now leads. He could have been someone important, or he could have been no one. Do they really care?

Is it human nature to laugh at others less fortunate? To these people, I suppose it is, but for me, it's not. I always have a hard time when I see homeless people, or someone who is struggling. I pity them, I don't make fun of them. I wonder when these workers were in school, did they tease the kids who were a bit different, I remember at school some kids went through hell at the hands of idiots like this.

In the big scheme of things, I suppose this incident doesn't really matter, BUT imagine how that man felt? Degraded. Alone. Humiliated. I hope this man finds some sort of peace in his life, and these women (and I am only assuming it WAS women) realise how fucked up they are. Fuck you.

WTF how big?

I just did some baking. Yes I know how shocked you are but goddamit, I refuse to buy commercial biscuits and cakes now that Miss T is resembling somewhat of a normal, if not still loud and annoying 4 year old. She has calmed down so much and is sweet as pie, MOST of the time. She is probably the best helper in the shed, she doesn't complain when cleaning up a trashed bedroom, or helping with some other task that sends the other two running for cover.

So I am getting creative. I said before call me Martha Stewart (god I love her hair) but for godsake if I can't learn to cook by the time I am 42, umm thats this month, well things are not looking good.

Don't get me wrong, I can cook, to a certain extent. The family are fed and watered regularly, they have home baked goodies in their lunchboxes, I can cook a baked dinner without killing them but anything else is a stretch. It's probably because I don't have (or make) time to try out new recipes, so we usually have the same things over and over again. For example:-

1 Pasta - lots of different varieties, actually I make a really nice lasagne
2 Stirfries - I have a good wok so that helps.
3 Baked dinners - my baked potatoes rock my husbands world
4 Tuna mornay pasta bake - (farmerswife shuddering at the thought of eating tuna) the family loves this, I sometimes substitute the tuna for chicken and I will eat that. You can stick the tuna ... yuch.
5 Mexican food - my favourite of all.
6 BBQ's - well the hubbster cooks the bbq I make the salad.
7 Curries
8 Mongolian Lamb
9 Chicken Parmigiana

Well by the looks of that list, things are not as bad as they seem.

So I did some baking and made a healthy muesli slice


that also rocks my husbands world. I added in what was left of the choc bits that Miss T had sneakily consumed yesterday.

But the piece de resistance must be my jam drops. Arn't they supposed to be dainty little morsels of delight, just big enough to pop in your mouth, one by one whilst perving on the boys from Supernatural on a Monday night (sorry I digress because of the sex scene in this weeks episode)?

MY jam drops have come out of the oven the size of bulls testicles, not that I would know the size exactly but fuck they are big - the jam drops I mean. Just take a look:-

Miss T turned her nose up in disgust, as if to say "there's supposed to be 2 dozen there, where the suck are the rest" (remembering she can't pronounce the "F" sound), but apart from the size, they taste really good. Actually they taste really really good. This lot will last about 1.5 days in my house before I will have to make more bull testicle sized jam drops. I never thought I would write those 5 words in the same sentence.

Just a maid - who me?

This is the exchange between Miss D (aged 8) and me this morning:-

Miss D wakes up grumpy **(how odd)

Miss D: Where are my school clothes? (she hasn't exactly got her hands on her hips but they are close)

Frazzled Mum: Umm, in the bedroom, I think

Miss D:- NO they are not!

Frazzled Mum:- Yes they are, I put them there last night.

Miss D:- (who hasn't even looked for them yet) I can't find them anywhere!

Frazzled Mum:- (raising voice just a touch) Your school clothes are in the bedroom on the chest of drawers. Go and find them.

Miss D:- (doesn't quite hair toss as she turns but is close to it) Well I like you to put my school clothes on my bed like you always do.

Frazzled Mum:- (thinks to herself, hmmm I must post this in my blog)

** my big girl doesn't always wake up grumpy. Sometimes she wakes up like a ray of sunshine. She happily spotted kangaroos outside the bedroom window this morning, about an hour before she morphed into Paris Hilton or some other spoiled brat.

Cranky mother - who me?

Things are a bit tense in the shed today. Nothing has really changed from yesterday, and I'm not even due for PMT, but I feel a bit pissed off today, the reasons being:-

1. The dog has fleas again. She never had a flea problem when we lived in town, and lately she is always scratching. We only just bathed, scrubbed and powdered her to an inch of being in a beauty pageant but she has them back.

2. I just vacumned the shed this morning (vacumning a concrete floor - quite pathetic really), and without fail the wind will gust through here this afternoon bringing all matter of dust and debris back in.

3. I am sick of saying "wolf spiders are my friend".

4. It's very hard to keep all things clean and tidy whilst living in what equates to a very bad neverending camping trip.

5. There are only so many toilet frogs I can take.

6. Our house plans are not yet finalised and I am getting to the point of my patience wearing very thin.

7. I want my house. Finished. Or friggin started.

I wrote this yesterday, but didn't post it. Today I feel much better and the weight of the world doesn't seem to sit so squarely on my shoulders. I've calmed down a bit, perhaps it has to do with the fact that Supernatural starts again tonight, I can hardly contain myself. I am so excited. My life is such a bore....

That's his excuse...

Mr C hasn't been listening today. It's like, I ask him to do something, then I ask again, then I ask for a third time before yelling at him for the fourth. Then I have to get down to his level and drag him to where I want him to be. In the bathroom tonight he said:-

Mr C:- Mum I know why I am not listening today.

Me: (thinking you are not listening because you are acting like your father - he doesn't listen either) Why aren't you listening honey.

Mr C:- Mummy, you KNOW why.

Me: (fuck what is he talking about?) .

Mr C:- it's because my hair is over my ears and I need a haircut.

Me:- (mentally booking him in to the hairdressers tommorrow) Yes baby, that must be why you aren't listening today. (watch out mister, when your hair is short, what will your excuse be then?)

Gotta get to the gym

I need to lose 5 kilos. Now. Since moving to the farm, I haven't had time for the drive to the gym which is now half an hour away. Usually by the end of the day, I don't feel like driving all that way for a spin bike class. Which BTW I love and miss. So I need to start again.

Last year, I lost some weight and became all muscly (in a girly kinda way) and felt fantastic. I have since found this weight (get back to wherever the hell I sent you) and am not happy about it. My three times at the gym are no more and that sucks.

I went jeans shopping the other day - that in itself is frightening and frustrating. Usually I am a size 12 - 14 (australian sizing) and I couldn't actually get the buttons done up on the jeans I chose *gasp in horror*.

I refuse to buy my new hot jeans in any size bigger than what I usually wear, so it's either:-

1. freeze my ass off this winter, and believe me it is super cold out here in the country, especially as we live in a shed, sorry I digress, or

2. get to the gym post haste.

Please God send me a personal trainer....

My Blogging Quest.

Jen at Semantically driven has started "My Blogging Quest".



I am a new blogger, with not even 50 posts under my belt, but I am well and truly hooked. My story began in March 2009 when I started my blog to document my familys journey from suburbia to farm life. We left a comfortable home only two minutes walk from the school and moved out of town to a 75 acre property with no house and a big shed to live in!

We had been looking for land for 2 years to build our dream home, a cliche - yes but important none the less, and we bought this property in 45 minutes. That was the beginning of the craziness and I had to somehow record it all so I could look back in 10 years time and read about our experiences and laugh, or cry at the things we went through in building our house.

My blog was supposed to be clinical and orderly, but then I noticed posts creeping in about my children, my husband, my pets and often my inner turmoil and emotions. I wrote about having to put our beloved beagle to sleep, or how I felt guilty about my mothering, was I good enough for the job?

It was a release for me and a creative and expressive outlet at the same time. I have always loved to write. I dabbled in poetry and short stories when I was younger and I wrote a pregnancy diary for my three children (I can't wait to blog some of THOSE entries!).

I find I can't live in the moment. I need to record events so I can look back and remember. I do this with concerts I attend or school activities, I photograph and video constantly so I can reminisce. Now I am doing this with my blog, I want to remember this time, the good the bad and the crazy.

I was fascinated with other peoples blogs and loved stepping into their lives just for a short time. I started to get a few comments, and that was exciting - someone else was interested in what I was writing about. This is for me but the power of a comment cannot be underestimated.

I write how I feel, I have a dry sense of humour and that is reflected in my posts. Friends have commented that this is "so me". I have alot to write about, things that are difficult and muddled in my brain, but deserve the chance to be addressed.

There is alot to learn about blogging, and I understand and appreciate a little more each day. Templates, feeds, wordpress or blogger, domain names, the list goes on. I plan to hold on to this ride and see where it takes me.