The Vitamin Pill

You know how sometimes there are people in your life that you just like even though your lives are so crazy different that it seems unlikely to anyone else? Well we had lunch with those people on the weekend. They have one grown up daughter, two nearly grown up kids and a just turned 8 year old little girl. They are laid back folk. They live on a farm in a house they built themselves that sits, seemingly, in the middle of nowhere. During lunch their pet lamb walked in to the house and sat under the dining table until dad picked it up so it could nibble his ear. What. The. Fuck. And they all laughed at my confusion and disdain that a farm animal was sitting at the table. Our differences are as stark as they are well-received and good-natured. We’re bright people who get that we’re different and celebrate our own self-imposed diversity. We can do this because there is something deep that ties us. Something intrinsic to our values that unites us as friends. Comrades if you like.

It’s the ‘sex is unnecessary now that we have kids’ ethos.

If you know what I’m talking about then you will be nodding and searching my blog for contact details so we can do lunch right now. Our comrades have been married a few years longer than we have but they’re the same vintage. They’re happy together, like us, and they have the same goals as each other, like us, and they’re not having any more kids, like us. And when we all get together it’s always the same. The boys compare stories of how long it’s been between drinks and the girls square their shoulders defiantly and give a proverbial high-five to each other as we realise we’re not alone in our resistance to the late night shoulder tap when you’re just about to slip into that deep, delicious sleep. 

But this time the boys wheeled out the big guns. No longer content to refer to the latest Cosmo tips for orgasms, today they went for medical research.

“Do you know what I read the other day? Studies have shown that semen has anti-depressant properties and that women who have a lot of semen aren’t depressed”.

Seriously.

To which I wish my response was “Yes, that would be true. Women who have lots of sea men are generally single, childless and very, very happy” but instead was:

“Oh my god... here we fucking go”

The ensuing debate on the health benefits of sperm was as ridiculous as it was unproductive, so to speak. Lots of rolling eyes from the wives and lots of guffawing and nudging from the husbands. Lunch was served. The boys conceded. And the boys kept their vitamins to themselves for a bit longer.

And so now I ask you, has your guy ever tried to tell you that a shot of semen is just like one big vitamin pill? Or, dear male reader, have YOU ever used that incredibly compelling argument in your quest to get laid?

Please... share x

Happy 1st Birthday Seventies Baby

When I started blogging, I had two objectives. To write, which has always been a kind of therapy for me, and to share. As my 'voice' developed, I discovered something amazing. There is magic in the story. There is magic in me.  

"The stranger who tells our stories when we cannot speak not only awakens our spirits and hearts but also shows our humanity"   Mende Proverb, Sierra Leone

I always get a little bit nostalgic on birthdays, so I have spent the morning re-reading my stories and I thought I'd share a selection of my favourite posts from the last year that you may have missed or may just like to revisit.

1. My first post - the one about mums at school.

2. 50 Shades of Twilight - the one I had the most fun writing... [warning: involves anal plugs and nipple clamps]

3. Make My Day - the one that I go a bit mental in.

4. While you were sleeping - the one that makes me cry a little bit when I read it.

5. 10 Parenting Rules - the one that went viral.

6. Dear Men - the one where I write about dry-humping.

7. Stretch-mark Swagger - the one about my thighs.

Do you have a favourite? Is there a story you'd like me to tell?

So what do you do?

I went out drinking with the girls and met someone new. Yep, that shit still happens and I like that it still happens. Even though I'm not recruiting. My dance card is full, after all, but it's always a pleasure meeting new people. Except that there's always that one question that gets my back up. You know the one. You've heard it. You've asked it. It's not that it's a bad question. It's not offensive and I'm confident it's asked with the kindest of intentions. But it shits me nonetheless. I fantasise my response to that question all the time and next time, dammit, I'm gonna do it. 

It goes something like this...

"Hi Tania, nice to meet you. So what do you do?"

What do you mean, what do I do??

Are you referring to how I spend my days? Because that’s easy.

I have two sons. I play. I teach. I nourish. I discipline. I give in. I despair. I complain. I crave sleep. I cuddle. I clean up. I cook. I clean up again. I shop. I can’t wait for their father to get home. I negotiate. I love. I scowl. I laugh. I learn. I wash. I yell. I listen. I rejoice.

Or are you referring to how I unwind? 

Well, that would be enjoying a glass of wine in the quiet. I read. I watch really bad tv and am addicted to Grey’s Anatomy. I do Facebook. I write. A blog. A journal. An sms to a friend. I drink coffee. I sit by the fire and listen to the rain. I lay in the sun by the pool while the boys try their hardest to splash me with their ‘epic bombs’. 

Sorry... maybe you’re asking about what I do to energise myself? 

I socialise. I talk on the phone. I make skype dates with my interstate friend. I go out drinking with my local friends. I listen to music really loud. I have people over to my home for dinner, drinks, coffee, talking, gossiping, swimming and chats. I create opportunities to laugh.

I dance. 

When I was growing up I had the 'cool mum'. She dressed cool, hung out with cool friends, listened to cool music and was an AWESOME dancer. Mum would often, I mean really often, put the music up really loud and dance around our tiny lounge room. Sometimes she'd get my brother and I to join her, other times we'd just lose her for 3 minutes. Now, as a Mum myself - I get why she did that. It is the one thing that simultaneously relaxes and energises me. When I was growing up, Michael Jackson was black and he ruled our stereo for a while. This definitely IS NOT a Zumba body and I may or may not have done a little bit of a wee when I was dancing around... I am, after all, a 40 YEAR OLD MOTHER OF TWO who never really committed to pelvic floor exercises :-/ 

This is me, tipping my proverbial hat to Mum...

 

Oh no, wait! You must be referring to how I earn money.

I work.

What do YOU do?

When I was a kid

My kids are bored. It's been CRAZY hot and they're on holidays and they are begging me for more time in front of the tv or on the computer which I'm barely resisting. I'm racking my brain for things for them to do and that in itself is pissing me off. I don't remember having daily activities in place for me and my brother growing up. I don't remember that our time was micro-managed by mum or that we felt she was responsible for our fun. 

I DO remember...

Just going outside and playing with the neighbourhood kids. Some you liked. Some you didn't. It wasn't really important. You just hung out. In the street or someone's front yard.

Taping songs off my records and the radio and making compilation tapes which I would play and play and play again. Sometimes if there was a song that I really liked, I would tape it on both sides of the tape [so I didn't have to wait to REWIND the tape to play it again].

Getting up on Sunday morning, well before the parents, and making ourselves a huge cup of 'chocolate poo' [which was about half a tin of Milo each in cold milk, mixed until it was a deep, chocolate, poo brown] and then quietly playing Monopoly for HOURS. Our board still has 'chocolate poo' drip stains on it.

Riding my bike around the streets. No helmet. No parents. Just the sun and the wind and pedal break skids.

Making a slip and slide out of garbage bags, a hose and dishwashing liquid. 

Climbing the street trees in our neighbourhood and eating the fresh, soft almonds.

Watching Video Hits on Saturday morning and memorising the words and the ground-breaking dance moves of The Nolan Sisters.



Going down to The Broadway at Glenelg beach with the family and spending the WHOLE day there in a group that simply expanded as the day went on. There were no cries of "I'm bored" or "Can we go home yet?" or "Can I play on your iPhone?" In fact, we only spoke to the grown-ups to ask for hot chips or a Paddle Pop. Otherwise we were jumping waves, collecting shells, burying each other, building sand castles, playing beach cricket and turning chocolate brown in the Aussie sun.

Walking in a gang to the local playground and spending hours just... playing.

Collecting envelopes from family and neighbours, soaking off the stamps and putting them into the world's most boring Stamp Albums.

My brother, Jason, and I combining his Star Wars figures and my dolls to create elaborate battles.

Racing cars down the hallway.

Concocting horrendous potions from anything we could find outside and then double-daring each other to eat/drink it .... ewwwww!

Going to Marion Swimming Centre and not daring to wee in the pool in case that special stuff they put in the water would put a bright blue ring around your bathers so everyone would know.

What did you get up to when you were a kid?

10 CHEAP, screen-free things to do at home these holidays

Many of you would now know that I'm not a fan of kids sitting in front of a screen, of any sort, for any great lengths of time. I'm not entirely anti-screen and my kids actually start most of their days watching some tv or playing on the computer. And, for their own survival, I have many times dumped them in front of a movie or two in the middle of the day so that I can quietly rock in the corner with a glass of wine. I am committed to limiting their screen time though and so have a number of activities at hand in the holidays to help keep them occupied when the screens are off. I find it easier to have an arsenal ready to fire at them when I am under attack from the "I'm bored!" cannon.


Get Ballsy
Pick a ball, any ball, and send them outside to play with it. Play soccer, football, netball, basketball, handball, lawn bowls, totem tennis, ten pin bowling in your driveway or marbles. There's something for every kid to do with a ball. If it's just you and your little one, get out there with them. 

DIY Christmas Tree
We do this one every year and it takes up lots of time. Tick!
1. Search for appropriate 'trees'. We live in a suburb with mature street trees so we often find these on our footpath but if you have a nearby park, why not go for a walk and see what you can find. The boys have become quite picky and know the best options are ones with lots of branches.
2. Paint your tree. I have a whole selection of bright coloured tubes of paint that I've accumulated from Cheap as Chips over the years. They're about $2 per tube and I recommend having a few in your 'craft box' all the time. This year the boys have chosen orange and gold as their colours.

3. Make the decorations. I save the fronts of each year's Christmas cards that the kids cut out the pictures of to put on their trees. We also make garlands out of left over wrapping paper which I measure and rule up and the boys cut 
them out and put them together.

4. Make a tree stand. I have a collection of old bottles which the boys fill up with sand [to weigh it down] and voila - perfect tree stand. Sometimes they decorate these too with ribbon etc. Depends on their mood.


Mini-chefs
Kill two birds with one stone here... lunch/snacks AND an activity. One time you could make your own pizzas. Have your kids help you set out the ingredients. We've done this many times now so the boys know that we use a packet of mini-pitta breads, a couple of pizza sauce sachets, a bowl of grated mozzarella, ham, salami and capsicum. Pop them in a pre-heated oven and you're done. We also like to do cupcakes together, gingerbread people/aliens and plain old cheese and fruit platter that the boys wash and cut up themselves. 


DIY Christmas decorations
I love this activity. It's quiet. It takes ages. It's extremely cheap. It's excellent for fine motor skills.
1. Get yourself to IKEA and pick up a tub of their coloured plastic beads and a set of their bead plates [the whole lot will cost you less than $15].
2. Think up some nice 'Christmasy' designs and help your little ones by starting the pattern for them.
3. Sit back and have a coffee while they finish off their decorations.

Colouring Pages
This may seem like an obvious one but you'd be surprised how many people forget to bring this one out [especially for boys] I like to get new stock [including books and textas/crayons] at the beginning of every holiday which my boys really appreciate too. We choose the pages they want to do together and I find that if I'm part of the selection process etc, they're far more interested in doing it than if I just set them on their way.

Art School
My kids LOVE this one and we have been doing it from a very young age. Get yourself some large format paper. If you're really stuck, grab a roll of paper from Ikea and cut into suitable lengths. Squirt some of those bright paints I mentioned earlier onto plastic plates and lay out a couple of brushes and some jars of water to rinse with. Our favourite way to do this is to peg up a whole lot of sheets along the fence, but it would be just as much fun on an easel or laid out on the ground or table. I like to give them topics to paint to help stimulate their creative juices. If they're really little you could paint their hands and feet and get them to stamp the paper to make some gorgeous keepsakes.

Waterbomb wars
A packet of these rippers cost about $3. Fill them up, but not too much otherwise they burst too easily and the game's over in no time. I then send the boys outside with a big basket of them of each and the rules are that they are allowed to throw them at each others' FEET as they're running around trying to evade the bombs. This is a big WINNER and lots of summer fun.


Caine's Arcade
I was inspired to introduce this idea to my boys after seeing this video. It's a fantastic activity to get them thinking and it will cost nothing but some old boxes and a couple of rolls of sticky tape. The best part is that after making the game, they want to play it too! More time for coffee and a magazine.

Quiet inside time
I bet you have books, board games, card games, puzzles, lego which you and your kids have probably forgotten about. Sometimes we're all activitied out and just need some quiet time inside. I like to pull out one of these either to  share or for them to do on their own ['cause they get sick of each other and   need space too] It's great when the weather is no good or if they haven't been feeling very well.


Let's play house
This one is my all-time FAVOURITE. My boys are still young enough to not absolutely despise household chores [not long now though]. I get them to help me out and make it like a game. Who can sort the washing into piles the quickest? Who can make their bed the neatest? Who wants to use the vacuum cleaner? Who can make the biggest pile of weeds from the garden? Who can make the best cafe latte? 

Well... baby steps ;)

Team Meeting - United States of Tania

Ok, we all know why we're here. Well except for you Short-term Memory Loss, but I promise it will come back to you in fragments when you least expect it. 

I've called this meeting because it's well overdue and quite frankly, there are some things that just need to be put on the table.

Let's start with you Judgement. Why do you insist on leaving town every time Sav Blanc comes to visit? Have I not tried to keep you two together. You two need to be friends. Please stay awhile next time. It makes it so much easier for the rest of us but especially for Fancy Footwork. Yes, we know you think you can dance but whenever Judgement leaves you throw in those little dance moves that really should have been left back in the '90s when you wore hi-top sneakers out and not stilettos.

Piss Weak Guts would also like it if you stuck around to keep Sav Blanc under control. I know we had high expectations of her French heritage and are all disappointed that after years of training she still hasn't come up to speed but I think we all just need accept that this is the best we're going to get from her. The same goes for Sore Feet, Pounding Head and Severe Nausea. They're not going anywhere, so the sooner the rest of the team accepts that the better.

While we're here, can I just make a point to you Back Fat and Behind the Knees Cellulite. Don't think that because I can't see you, that I've forgotten you're there. I know and I'm not happy. I also know that I can't sack you without an aggressive managing-out process but I just don't have the resources for that at the moment so I'm going to ask you, again, to please leave. You are not required and serve no purpose. Perhaps you could take Tuck Shop Arms with you and set up your own team somewhere else.

Oh and as for you Laugh Lines... what the fuck was so funny? Seriously, take it down a notch.

How are you going Short-term Memory Loss? Have you caught up yet? Ah yes, you make a good point. Not a Morning Person is VERY upset that Judgement let the team down again. Having two kids who are up with the sparrows is hard enough but when you wake up on the morning after the night before with that bastard Hangover in your bed you know you're in for a tough day 'cause that prick just won't leave!

So, that concludes our meeting. At the end of the day, the bottom line is... to achieve a win/win situation, 24/7, Judgement is not to take unapproved leave. 

Ever again.

Dear Men

Hello, my name is Tan and I'm a sexist.

No really.

If anyone unintended read my personal text exchanges with my friends [who are also sexists], I would never get another job, according to the recent backlash afforded the Australian ex-speaker, Mr Slipper.

And before any of you get all up in arms about it, this is not a political post. I am not sharing my political opinion and I'm not interested in yours. I am, however, using his recent scandal as a segue to my confession of being a sexist. Which I am. And because I like to be topical.

Men, this is why you shit me:

1. Shut the fuck up about women nagging you. You are being nagged because you don't fucking listen. If you did, you wouldn't have to be asked again. You either have a hearing problem or you're an idiot. Either way, it's annoying.

2. You are not allowed to use the term 'man-flu' in defence of your ridiculous inability to cope with a cold. We made that term up as an insult to you.

3. Ditto the term 'boy's look'. OPEN YOUR EYES. If there is a pile of stuff LOOK THROUGH IT. If it's not in your drawer LOOK IN THE LAUNDRY. If it's not in the laundry LOOK ON THE CLOTHES LINE. If it's not on the clothes line it's probably still on the bedroom floor NEXT TO THE CLOTHES BASKET where you left it.

4. An impromptu display of affection does not mean you're 'in'.

5. Zara = Bunnings. Got it?

6. FYI, your sexy bits ain't that attractive either... and at least we don't have ours out at every opportunity including, but certainly not limited to, drunken social events.

7. YOUR arse looks fat in those jeans. If you gave a shit enough about how you looked and asked us, we'd tell you.

8. Your woman bending down in front of you is NOT an invitation to dry hump her. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you an animal?

9. Hey moron in the corner office with the inflated salary... who'd YOU sleep with to get there? 'Cause you certainly didn't earn it with your personality or intellect.

10. Do you like the way your home looks and feels? It's because of the throw cushions - GET OVER IT.

11. What makes you think you need to keep your back to the wall at a gay function?? Straight women aren't interested in you so you can bet the far more discerning gay guy isn't going to be either. Probably due to point number 7.

12. Porn is porn. The articles are irrelevant.

13. When I hear that you like women's southern parts to be hairless it makes me think you like little girls. Do you?

14. The Godfather Trilogy are movies not a religion. Reciting lines from them doth not a gangster make.

15. Our current Prime Minister is a woman. She earned that role. She worked hard doing what she believed in and reached the top of her career path. She is the boss of our country [as described by my 7 year old son] swimming against the testosterone tide with her head held high and I'm proud of her. Because she's a woman. So shut up.

16. Strippers, exotic dancers et al are SOMEONE'S daughter. They could be yours one day... especially if you teach her that men are attracted to that type of behaviour and they can earn good money from dancing, semi-naked on some bloke's lap.

17. Women menstruate. Every month. It enables us to bear YOUR children. Be grateful.

18. What do we SEE in Brad Pitt and Daniel Craig??? pfft.

19. You are not doing us a FAVOUR when you bring the clothes in off the line or do the grocery shopping or make the bed. Unless you are a GUEST and then you should refrain from farting in front of us and give chocolates and/or wine to thank us for our hospitality.

20. Taking half an hour to take a shit is revolting. How can it be comfortable to sit on the toilet with your pants around your ankles and your arse in the breeze for that long? And don't start with that bullshit about the only place you can get peace. Please refer to point number 1.


OH and just in case my boss is reading this [Hi H!], please don't sack me because I'm a sexist. I promise it won't affect my performance at work xx

50 shades of twilight...

So I finally met Christian Grey, I mean Mr Grey, I mean Sir. Excuse me while I fan myself.

At first I thought it was just me as I found myself replacing Christian's name with Edward and Anastasia's name with Bella until I discovered that the Fifty Shades story began as a fan lit of the Twilight series. That made more sense but it still astounds me that this other worldwide reading phenomenon rests on the same fantastical dynamic. Super powerful, unnaturally handsome, wealthy, calm independent man who drives exotic sportscars unsuccessfully warns away super inexperienced, awkward, young, unwittingly gorgeous virgin from their dark embrace. Familiar? It's Twilight. Minus the vampire. Plus kinky fuckery.

Who knew that women wanted this? I certainly didn't know and to be honest, I'm confused. It was not long ago that we were all sexually empowered thanks to Sex and The City. Hang on a minute... cue another gorgeous, powerful, wealthy unattainable man ready to save our heroine from average sex and loneliness. I digress. Sexually empowered nay, encouraged to sow our sexual oats. Poor, inexperienced and awkward Charlotte was NOT the girl you wanted to relate to. No. Women wanted to dress like Carrie, fuck like Sam and practice law like the red head. But Charlotte? Not so much. Now, it seems that awkward is the new black. NOT knowing you're attractive is how we should be playing it. And if you can possibly bite your lip every time you talk to a gorgeous man, then get ready to explode in a flurry of orgasms against a wall in an elevator.

I was initially uncomfortable reading this trilogy. I'm not into that whole BSDM thing. The red room of pain does not float my boat and if someone takes a riding crop to my arse, they'd better make it worth it 'cause I guarantee it will be the last thing they do... but as I read through the trilogy, I did work out that it wasn't really about the sex. It couldn't be. Those scenes were poorly written and annoying to be honest. I would be lying if I didn't say that my heart rate didn't increase many times during the book but it was the development of their relationship that got me there... and maybe when they were in the shower and that time on the piano and in the front seat of the car... Ahem. It certainly was not Ana's infuriating 'inner goddess' that we had to keep hearing about. Or the fact that she referred to her vagina as her 'sex' or the weird way her inner dialogue would exclaim 'oh my' as his demand for her to come would be her 'undoing'... or the very fact that she could have an orgasm EVERY SINGLE TIME he told her to. huh??? 

So, as I was saying, at first I was uneasy. I didn't want to read about a submissive girl [she ain't no woman at only 22] being beaten and demoralised by anyone. As it turns out, I didn't have to. She never becomes his 'sub' though she does enjoy the role playing [shudder]. He does, in fact, love her and really the joy of the story is reading about how much he wants to protect her and cherish her. And THIS is what I think women are addicted to. 

Guys... hold your horses and don't order those handcuffs just yet. Yes, the books have been dubbed 'mummy porn' but the porn factor is in the way this man loves his girl. Picture this... an amazingly handsome, incredibly fit, unspeakably wealthy horn bag falls for your wife/girlfriend. Don't think he won't 'cause he doesn't expect her to be gorgeous or well-dressed or sophisticated or independent or wealthy or single herself. He falls for her and courts her by - wait for it - DEVOTING HIS TIME TO HER. By buying her clothes that suit and fit her. By remembering her favourite book. By making her playlists and delivering them to her on her own iPod. By interrupting his very busy day to write her emails. By always taking her call. By making sure she eats well. By begging to take her shopping. By washing, brushing and plaiting her hair. He buys her a couple of cars. The latest Apple hardware. Christian Louboutin heels. A publishing company. A mansion. When she complains, once, that she hasn't seen her friends in a while he flies all of them to his house in Aspen on his own private jet for the weekend. His favourite past time is watching her sleep, he loves his mum and he totally ignores all other women. 

He's old-fashioned and millions of women have voted that an alpha male is what they're yearning. They like that he tells her what to do. They like that he takes care of business. They like that he can fuck her up against a wall and then tenderly pick her up in his gorgeous arms and take her to bed to watch her sleep... while her plays the piano into the early hours of the morning in nothing but some low slung track pants. They like that he has a housekeeper to make that bed and keep her fed and do the laundry. They want what she's having... ALL OF IT.

Women are not leaving their husbands because they've suddenly discovered a penchant for anal plugs and nipple clamps. They have layed in bed, next to their snoring, overweight, disinterested, pissed-off-that-you-even-need-to-buy-clothes [let alone know what size you are], struggling-to-make-ends-meet, footy-watching, fantastically boring, selfish husbands reading the greatest fairytale ever written.

So if you want to save your marriage from the Fifty Shades of Grey breakdown, here's what you have to do. Remember when you first fell in love with your wife/partner. When you didn't want to fart in front of her. When her body delighted you and you couldn't get enough of it. When you would make time to call her. When getting a call from her during your work day was a welcome distraction and not a chore. When you would happily give up watching some crap on tv to share a glass of wine outside on a warm night. When making love to her took longer than seven minutes in the dark and you would scream out her name instead of grunting. When her laugh made you warm inside. When you yearned to be with her always. Then... let her see that woman in your eyes. 

And if all else fails... spank her. Apparently that's what women want too ;)

Go ahead... make my day

It’s probably ‘that’ time in my cycle but just lately, my kids have been annoying me. Not the usual, can’t stand that whingeing tone annoying but actually pissing me off. What have I done? Have I really spent the last 7 years raising ungrateful kids? My kids are so fortunate that it’s ridiculous. They have two parents, who live together and who love them entirely. They are extremely well-fed. They are clean. They are warm. They live in a beautiful home filled with more stuff than they could possibly need. They are paid attention. They are paid respect. They are healthy. They are fit. They are smart. They can see. They can talk. They can walk. They go to school every day with their friends and are taught by teachers who are invested in their growth and education. They have extended family who adore them and they have a broad network of family friends who enrich their lives also. They have travelled. By car. By ferry. By bus. By plane. They have a great life so it is infuriating to me when I hear them complain and I’ve had just about enough of it.

I’ve started a new regime in this house and things are gonna change. Yep, parenting is thankless, we all know it. I don’t mind so much that I’m not thanked for being a bloody fantastic mother but I do mind that I have to defend myself, that I have to beg for gratitude for the simplest things. It does not excite me to cook dinner every fucking night of my life. It doesn’t bring me joy. It doesn’t fulfill me as a person. It certainly doesn’t challenge my creative flair as I only have about 12 dishes I can choose from to ensure the entire family will eat healthily and on time. So when I am told ‘I hate this dinner’ I go a little bit Rambo.

"In town you're the law, out here it's me. Don't push it. Don't push it or I'll give you a war you won't believe."

 

When my kids complain that we do not have a Wii, Playstation, DS, Foxtel, X-Box blah, blah, blah as they’re sitting on their leather sofa, watching a DVD from their own personal library on a flatscreen tv playing a game they have downloaded onto my iPhone, my head dips down and I get a bit Dirty Harry.

 

"...you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"

And when I get home from walking them to school in their clean uniforms, with their homework done and the excursion forms signed and their money orders for book club packed neatly in their school bags next to their homemade lunches and I trip over the pyjamas I ask them to put away in their bedroom instead of leaving them on the lounge room floor every fucking morning… well that sends me a little bit Falling Down.

 

"I am not a vigilante... if everyone will just stay out of my way, nobody will get hurt."

I spoke to another mum the other day who is an awesome woman. She’s an entrepreneur and a wife and has four kids. She’s young and dynamic and confessed that she has given up cooking vegetables for her kids. GIVEN UP. What are you kids doing to us? What are we LETTING you do to us?? The nightly battle to get good food into her kids is so hard for this amazing woman that she has surrendered. Cue every other mother’s confession of letting their 5 year old into their bed every night because they’re too tired to take them back to their own bed or bribing their kids with chocolate to keep them quiet in the trolley at the supermarket so they can get 15 minutes peace to buy them good food or giving in to their toddler’s tantrum for whatever it is that they insist they need just because they don’t have the fight in them that day. Our kids are wearing us down. My kids are wearing me down. And I’m not putting up with it anymore.

 

There’s a new sheriff in town boys. And her name is Rambo Harry Down. Don’t mess with her – she’s nuts.

Before blogs there were diaries

Here's my first diary entry, from 12 year old Tania.


I have copied it verbatim [including spelling errors]. The bracketed text in blue are 40 year old Tania's 'special comments'.


Enjoy x


Tuesday 15 January 1985


Today I went to Ilka's to stay the night. I got there and we stuffed around a bit. [I haven't used 'stuffed around' for ages... may bring that out again] Then we set up the tent that we were to sleep in that night. We had curry for tea and white chocolate mousse for dessert.[that's a Facebook status update right there] Then Ilka found some sparklers and we lit them and went to stop cars on Bray Street. We got home and readied ourself for bed. [readied ourself? Even back then I thought someone would want to read my stuff.. maybe my English teacher] We sat in the tent, stuffing our faces with chocolate & chips and told each other about ex boyfriends etc.[ex boyfriends - plural - at the age of 12. Already making our mothers proud] We tried to get to sleep but couldn't so we decided to make obsene noises and pretend that I was the boy and she was the girl.[as you do] We finally did get to sleep but woke up more than several times in the night. I'm really glad I've got Ilka as a friend. I really love being with her. [to this very day]