28 August 2013

Wine vs Lemons

I know I mentioned it recently.  I'm tired a lot at the moment.  A lot. My girls have been sick.  They are not sleeping or they are sleeping in our bed.  When they sleep in our bed, they've been experiencing with spontaneous middle of the night up-chucking or bed-wetting which results in two weary adults stripping beds, remaking beds, soothing children, changing children and hurling curt phrases heavy with pointed pathos and self pity across small feverish brows and fresh pyjamas to claim the prize of most put upon partner.

When they sleep in their own beds, they don't vomit or pee (of course not) but they still wake needing comfort.  I've been sick.  He's been sick. We've both been busy working hard, freelancing, travelling, training for runs, playing with our children, refereeing our children, picking up after our children, attempting to be strict parents to our children, hosting lovely friends, cooking, shopping, planning, washing - all the things that make up an ordinary life.

And then one night, out of the blue, a teensy little voice whispered to me "You should try some of that Hairy Lemon stuff you got sent earlier this month - see if it works" and the other little voice whispered "Have another glass of wine - getting all fired up this late at night would just be a waste of time."

And the wine voice won. Twice.

But then one morning, I tossed a Hairy Lemon tablet into a glass, chugged it down after my cereal and got on with the day.  And I did notice that I went a little bit further, a little more freshly, for a little bit longer that day.  So I took another the next day. And... well you get it. And there must be something in that little yellow tablet which is better overall than a the desperate inhalation of an early morning Coke Zero in search of artificial energy, because I'm still tired but I'm remembering my own name, my immune system is recovering and my oomph kicks in pre noon now rather than somewhere after the day finishes.

Of course I could eat perfectly and get all my vitamins from a perfectly balanced diet and set an awesome example to my children, while being a paragon of housewifely virtue oozing with organisational capabilities that would make a Stepford wife jealous and get a good eight hours of sleep per night.  I could.  But it's unlikely.  Not until I hire a chef, a nanny, a personal trainer and give up work.

So while I apologise for almost forgetting to do my Hairy Lemon pitch in return for my little Happy Hairy Lemon pack containing the fizzy lemon loveliness, I'm kind of pleased that when I did use it, I actually needed it and didn't have to just quote their website and say "Hairy Lemon is an ideal formulation for people who feel tired due to a hectic lifestyle" which you and I both know means "BOOZEHOUNDS OF THE WORLD YOU'LL LOVE THIS STUFF".

And we do as it turned out (Size of sample validating this claim - 1).

But anyway - I've got two packs of Hairy Lemon Happiness as giveaways for you courtesy of the Hairy Lemon team (includes a bag, some Hairy Lemon, sunnies, headphones, lip balm, etc) and all you have to do is comment on this post or on Talking Frankly's facebook page by the end of 1 September telling me what your favourite 'kickstart' is when you aren't living your life like Miranda Kerr.

I'll get a random to choose their two favourites and boom! You can be me.

20 August 2013

Cute at four, not at near 40

A few days past, my toddler's BFF had an accident.  Not an "oh no lost my face to a bear kind of accident", but an "oops, should have mentioned I was pooping kind" kind of accident.

Which was fine.  Because her mother was here and I didn't have to deal with it.  COME ON PEOPLE - stop judging.  Poo that isn't genetically yours is even less cool than poo that is - you know it, I know it. 

And I went and got a pair of undies as a replacement option.  And it occurred to me that while sharing underpants with your BFF when you're a toddler is okay, it becomes all sorts of weird when you're older.

To be frank, if the BFF's mum - who is one of my dearest friends - said to me, can I borrow a pair of underpants because mine are dirty? - IT WOULD CHANGE EVERYTHING.  

There is no coming back from that.  That is weird.  Odd.  Icky.  I would have judged her and found her wanting.  And in possession of a pair of underpants that belonged to me.  I'm a bit awkward like that - even if I find something just TOO WEIRD, I'm still agreeable about it so as not to cause unpleasantness. 
And it got me thinking about what else is endearing in a toddler and just odd later on in life. 

Licking people you like
You know that stage where they just lick you?  For no instantly apparent reason. If you ask why they say "Because I like you".  Now try that as an adult. Just walk up to somebody you like and lick their arm.  Go on, I dare you.

Public partial nudity
You're shopping, they're hot.  You're looking one way, you turn back and they have stripped off their jeans and are standing in their knickers and dropping their jeans into your trolley.  Perfectly logical.  But less acceptable when your chubby knees and dimpled backside are closer to 40 than 4.

Small people farting, giggling and whispering toddler style (ie: yelling) 'Mama, I did a FARP' is kinda cute, especially when they say Farp, instead of Fart.  But any adult that yells "I did a Fart" while on public transport is going to be assumed deranged, filmed and put on YouTube.

"Why does that man have such a big tummy?", "Do you have a willy?", "Look - that man has boobs like mummy", "My bottom hurts - does your bottom hurt?", "No, you're not funny", "That's not singing, that's just noise" and the list goes on.  Honesty as an adult is more successful when applied with a liberal dose of 'least said, soonest mended'.

Eating off the floor
Small people will eat anything unless it's the food you're trying to feed them.  Chalk. Shoes. Lint. Boogers. Dirt. Grass. Bugs. Snails. Dog food. Buttons. Unidentifiable objects.  And if they've just dropped something they like and stood on it, they'll still eat it.  You can dismiss it as 'ahhhh builds their immune systems up' but if a colleague dropped cake, stood on it and ate it - they'd be the stuff of workplace folklore in seconds.

What are some of your 'okay in a toddler but not in an adult' observations?

15 August 2013


I sleep, perchance to dream.

Well. No.

I sleep because I hunger for oblivion.  I want eight hours of no thoughts, no thinks, no thunks.  I am not interested in what my semi-conscious and other bits of my brain box are having meetings about. I care not for their conclusions.  If they want me to know that shit they can jolly well get in touch while I am awake. And I'm awake a lot more than I am asleep.

Last night I slept for almost eight hours.  With only a small person burrowing in beside me to briefly interrupt the slumbering.  Well and then when she decided she had to be in the middle and crawled across me.  But otherwise, I slept. Comfortably.  Cosily.  Snorily.

ahh... memories

My man rose to the waking of the baby, without waking me and took her downstairs and I slumbered on until 8 am.

Almost eight hours.

I had no idea just how tired I was.

But now that I am less so, I am looking forward to next year's eight hour sleep too.

That is all.

13 August 2013

I vote - therefore - I'm screwed

Winston says "blah blah....We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender!"

Paul says "blah blah We simply cannot sweep injustice aside. Even if our own conscience allowed us to, I am sure, that in due course, the world and the people of our region would not. There should be no mistake about this - our success in resolving these issues will have a significant bearing on our standing in the world. However intractable the problems seem, we cannot resign ourselves to failure - any more than we can hide behind the contemporary version of Social Darwinism which says that to reach back for the poor and dispossessed is to risk being dragged down. That seems to me not only morally indefensible, but bad history. We non-Aboriginal Australians should perhaps remind ourselves that Australia once reached out for us."

Martin says "blah blah I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification – one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers."

Tony says "blah blah You don't get good decisions from government if all the decisions are simply made by one person. No one, however smart, however well educated, however experienced, is the suppository of all wisdom."

Bloody hell.

I have been increasingly demoralised by our lack of leadership, our lack of inspiration, our lack of political innovation, our lack of choice.  I appreciate that politicians are mortal, that we are all human, but I want to live in an Australia of which I can be vocally and justifiably proud.

I am sick of the bigotry, the racism, the discrimination, the name calling, the sledging, the politicking, the posturing.  I want equality, I want compassion, I want good education, I want sustainable environments, I want human rights for all, I want somebody, ANYBODY, to stand up and be counted.

I want somebody to tell me what they think as a person and not just as a party.  I want the parties to stand for something that resonates, something in which I can invest my vote with surety and passion.

I want words to be uttered with sincerity.  I want to make the global stage for the right reasons and not because we are substantiating every uneducated, red neck, small minded Australian stereotype ever uttered. When we are making America's top comedy shows twice in one week because our politicians are going viral - something is seriously wrong.

Australia is made up of really great people.  We have so much of which we can be proud - great minds, incredible talent, brilliant athletes, inspiring orators, prodigious surrounds, world class businesses and millions and millions of ordinary people who are decent, hard working, loving, funny and kind.

Where is this Australia being represented in our political shitscape?

And why doesn't it piss more people off that it's not?

12 August 2013

Experience Awesome - don't mind if I do

In a rather timely fashion considering my last post was on face painting - I have been sent an offer for readers of my blog which kind of appeals to me because it's like 'culture' and 'fun' together.  Which is a rare find. Death of a Salesman my friend might be brilliant but you can't really use the word 'fun' to describe it now can you?

But these guys they use some really fabulous words in their spiels - and you know me. I'm a sucker for an adjective.  And a bad joke.  This spiel has BOTH.
This intensely exciting and wildly outrageous show will premiere in Sydney with electrifying music, sensational technology and gut-busting humour**. From a mind-blowing tour of the brain to a look inside the mind of a robot, the show is a primaltronically phosphorpedic, biomechani-morphically audiorrific, technodelically tribalicious, cyborganic and just freakin' cool experience. 
**Metaphorically speaking, of course. No guts will be harmed during the performance. 

It's basically three blue men and a lot of weirdness but it is NOT Avatar. More blue, more fun and to be fair, probably makes more sense. It's got to be fundamentally appealing at some level because it's been going for 25 years and something like 25 million people have seen it.  And they've never come to Australia before for reasons inexplicable.  It's a nice place to visit as places go right?

But anyway - I signed up to a call out for things that might be interesting and fun to do and they've offered me a discount link to put here and I thought - why not?

So if you want to:

Click on link here - tell your friends they can find it here too - it even includes a discount for opening night!

Click here for offer

You're welcome!

4 August 2013

Violence and face painting don't mix

People are baffling.

People that threaten to rape people because they run a petition to get Jane Austen on a bank note. People who deface memorial pages. People that drive at 20 kph in 60 kph zones. People that idolise Justin Bieber.  People that hate on people because they are gay. People that fear refugees. Helen Razer's forty year grump. People that pay $120 for lululemon yoga pants even though they are made in the same material and factory as your $8 Kmart ones.  People who travel the world but only share photographs of their coffees on Instagram.  People who don't use deodorant but still use public transport. People that don't stand up for older people on buses. People who can't see without change we'd have no butterflies.


Today, three families took advantage of free children's entertainment at the local shopping centre which was celebrating it's third birthday by giving free stuff to customers.  In fact, we took advantage yesterday and snuck in a meet and greet with Dora.  Free entertainment featuring much beloved characters should NEVER be underestimated.

So today, there was a Peppa Pig concert and the small people were transfixed (mostly)...

 And then with happiness in our every step and adorability factor at an 11/10, we went up to have our FACES PAINTED.  This is the equivalent of scoring free wine at a free gig.  Or as my grandmother might have said 'the icing on the cake'.

And then we had to queue.  Which was a bummer but my grandmother probably also said something like 'there is no such thing as a free lunch', which might be translated into something like people getting free face painting shouldn't expect no queues as well.

Now, this face painter was good.  Exceptional.  (Sneak peek of end result just for context)

But with such talent came a slightly longer than average 'time per face', so even though we were fairly forward in the queue it was taking a while.  And as I do, I got chatting to the lady in front of us in the queue and said 'there will be child biffo if the line doesn't get a move on', and she laughed and said 'or parental biffo'.  And we chortled.

And then.... BIFFO!

Two men at the front of the queue started yelling abuse about whether one had pushed in and what appropriate queue etiquette was and how many places you could 'hold'.  And the lady and I smiled wryly at each other and turned our little people's heads away from the silly men.  All of a sudden, there is a push, the shouting gets louder and there is chest bumping going on.  Wives are looking embarrassed, a man is intervening to stop the guys beating the shit out of each other, security is being called, the face painter is looking anxious, children are being bustled away from the front of the queue, casual observers vanish and we are all left looking at little perplexed about face painting escalating into violence.

No, you shouldn't push in.

Yes, you should challenge idiots.

But it was face painting.  Cheating at a face painting queue is not setting a good example, abusing people is not a good example, punching other people in front of your children is not a good example, embarrassing your partner is not a good example.

Actions which result in your children missing out on a face painting experience they have just queued for is NOT A GOOD EXAMPLE.

People are baffling.  And face painting?  Well that shit just got hard core!