To Do: drink.

We have a big house. It’s going to hurt when it falls down on us. There are carpenter ants underneath it and in the walls, munching and munching away to make a space to lay eggs. I can’t remember the names of them, I always think they are Trelawney Ants. 

They are fuckers, is what they are. They were eating a wall at the front of the house, then we had them gassed. I found them in our bedroom, which led to finding a leaking pipe in our bathroom and some horrendous damage, oh goody! With that gone, that should have dried up the ants interest in the house, but today I found them on my bedside, in my wardrobe and my clothes. It’s all a bit overwhelming, not to mention annoying AF. But that’s the joys of homeownership, I suppose. 

Note to self: next time we contemplate buying a house, cloose an empty plot of land and build it ourselves. When we are ready to pour the foundation, also pour every last cent into the wet cement and stop right there. It would be less stressful, I think.

We will need to replace the damaged wood inside the walls, and floors, too, if they are defying gravity, and I wouldn’t put it past them. 

I tried to vacuum the c****s out of my wardrobe, and succeeded for a few minutes, until I saw them all over my clothes and fucking wept – just like Jesus, except not as pious, and then geared up the vacuum but the bag was full, and the GD thing won’t work without a bag and there are no bags left. I hate my life.


Good Luck!

Husband was away last week so I had a few days off from work and the boys and I did a few errands and what not, but it was hot af so we weren’t cavorting like we planned. Thursday was the day I had planned yet another baby shower for a colleague, so I stashed the boys in a spare room at the back and worked my magic. But I hope the parents-to-be aren’t under the impression that kids (or mine) are that well-behaved that often, because that is some straight up bullshit. To their credit (AND MINE), they were quiet and kept themselves occupied while the rest of us played, and they were justly rewarded with cupcakes, win win. But the real winners were, of course, my colleague and his wife because they are still naive about kids and parenting…

They have a nautical theme for their nursery, so I complied but couldn’t do all the cutesy stuff like “captain adorable” onesies etc because some of the up and ups are quite busy and, ahem, non-participatory when it comes to arts and crafts. So I put a game together, in the fashion of the Sydney to Hobart yacht race, with blue, grid-lined paper for the board and the water. Then we needed boats to sail over them thar seas.

The boats sailed with the aid of a compass and encounted obstacles and assistance in the form of dolphins, wind, knots and booze, among other things.

We ate “seaweed snacks” aka lettuce wraps, and cured meat (jerky) and fruit (rollups) for the vegetarian. Because I was out of the office I wasn’t able to make adorbs cupcake toppers like I wanted, but we did have lifesaver candies strewn throughout the seven seas. 

The object of the game was to make it to “Bay-bee-dos” as opposed to Barbados, but the map was conveniently unmarked in true pirate fashion, or “ran out of time because I’m at home wrangling monkeys” fashion, but it was fun and everyone had a good time. But again, good luck to the parents-to-be if they think it’s all plain sailing. Not bloody likely!

Yoga Challenge

A friend started a yoga challenge. I thought about doing it, too, but I inevitably fall short midway or near the end and feel like shit when I ignore the reminders or emails for the remaining days (or weeks) for hauling my ass off whatever flat surface it’s on. Butt, haha, I dug out an old disc from the our movie pile and thought I’d try to do it for as long as I can, no pressure. 

We got the disc in a newspaper in Sydney before 10yo was born and I might have watched it 3 times, including today, but everyone we knew got the paper for the free discs and bags and whatever. The best one was the double album of xmas songs by Bing Crosby and Dean Martin! We still listen to that in December.

Anyhoo, I cleared a space and contemplated my toes and my asshole because yoga makes all parts of us free and limber, especially in your own lounge room, and also my need of a mani-pedi as my dry heels slid across the carpet. The carpet is in need of a vacuum and there was all sorts of shit under the couch when I moved it. So much for the kids cleaning up when I ask them, and for not making weapons in their spare time.

I managed the beginner moves, no problem, except for the part where I’m on the floor and the tv is high on the wall and I’ve the sound off as I thought the boys were still sleeping, silly me, so I had to keep looking up for the next move. Until the end, that is, when she grabbed her ankles and kissed her ass goodbye in some weird, sex-slave pose that I didn’t bother with.

So, a win for this morning and maybe I’ll try again after work, maybe even in the same pants which I bought before we moved to The States and have probably also, only worn three times. And then who knows for the weekend, I’ve heard of wine yoga so maybe I’ll sign up for that challenge.

Yogi out.

Dog Ate My Homework

When I moved out of home, I dumped my folder of writing in the bin. At the time, I deemed it too precious to share and I was moving in with the boyfriend. I didn’t want him to read it. I knew that he wouldn’t appreciate it and yet, I moved in with him, anyway.

I watched a movie the other night and the dog ate the guy’s writing, which reminded me of my own wasted papers. Such forlorn waste.

My book is on tour this week and I’m petrified of figurative bulldogs lurking around figurative corners. But I’m not letting the dog eat my homework, anymore. Nor should anyone else let anything stand in the way of their creativity. Paterson recovered and so shall the rest of us.

mmm, Paterson

Of The Essence

There is never enough time, and if we had more of it, we’d probably try and do more so we’d end up with the same lack of it. I have the day off work, today, and there was a long list of cool shit I wanted to do, but there’s just not enough time for everything.

We didn’t end up going to the movies, which is a shame because tix were only a buck, but we’d seen it anyway AND we met this cool aussie guy randomly, which never happens. We made it to the coffee shop for df gf #bigwigdonuts, and then enrolled in the summer reading program at the library.


I feel you, buddy

Now I’m drinking white wine and baking shit, coz that’s how I roll. Later this afternoon will be a different ballgame, though, since we need to tidy the house and that is sort of an undertaking. But I found some smores supplies, so bribes will help, and maybe we can have a campfire. No, actually it’s just marshmallows, but we can still campfire the shit out of them which the boys will enjoy.


domesticated as fuck

So even though there’s never enough time, today has been quality time, and I’m glad of that.

All The Things

This week was all the things, including all the feels. I had the week off work since Husband is living it up in the Swiss Alps or etc. Nothing more I appreciate than that my office is understanding about child care!

This week was the absolute best, and not because Husband was absent, but I wouldn’t have been home if he was here, so, draw your own conclusions. I had been looking forward to this week for the last month and let me tell you, parenting paid dividends, this time.

I, of course, had high expectations of everything we would do and we haven’t achieved all of them, but we’ve had the best week, and I didn’t even drink! Here is a rundown:

Monday: hot AF, park, bike riding, skaty bowl, treasure-hunting at goodwill

Tuesday: skaty bowl with friends, other skaty bowl

Wednesday: gorgeous weather, #makemusicday, #makemusicsalem, saw friends, saw #salemsown #therealkyloren as well (he’s had a haircut and looks hotter than ever), saw all our fave bands, frozen yogurt, park, skootering and skateboarding

Thursday: park, scootering, skateboarding, playing in the river, kids art studio, trendy cafe where kids tried new food and didn’t embarrass me

Friday: played wii games with the boys (wii-athon that did not turn into a pissing match, haha!),  trendy cafe again for gf donut holes and we read books quietly, kids art studio. 

I’ve even managed to wash some clothes and have the boys put them away, shock horror [insert licture of laundry – is there an emoji for that, yet??]; last night we had afternoon tea for dinner; the boys have mostly cleaned up that fucking mess of a room where the goddamn lego was fucking everywhere including under and around their expensive bloody instruments. Wonders, people, wonders, never, cease.

Other things I have enjoyed without interference from getting ready for work or being at work or driving to and from work include: sleeping in, wearing skirts, reading til all hours (I do this anyway but it was better this week), relaxed kids, not driving to school, self-directed reading, boys being excited about summer projects, baking, life lessons like patience and making mistakes, and so many other things that I’ve forgotten because I was living in the moment.

Husband will be home tomorrow night and he’s excited to be home because I do all the fun stuff. Thing is, though, I’m back at work next week so the un stuff goes out the window and I’ll be grumpy and poo-bootsy again for being stuck indoors and not on vacation for 3 straight months. That’s where the drinking starts again, I guess. 

Baby Update

Not that one, that’s just a food baby, remember!

 It’s been two action-packed weeks since we discovered we had baby chicks, and not just a handful. There were 10 babies and then an 11th wandered out to join them. And then one fell by the wayside, somewhere – the vicious cycle that is cutthroat Mother Nature, and then I made the mistake of naming the runt Little Joe, sad emoji.

Little Joe had me reminiscent of Baby Minnie – small, eyes still not quite open, and not always with the family. Little Joe must have been the 11th baby, and since he was younger than the rest, he was smaller and usually sleeping on the job, so he would get left behind when Princess Fiona shuffled everyone else off to greener pastures or away from those pesky fucking roosters. No one needs to see their antics at 3 days old. And trying to sleep or catch up to Mum means probably not getting all the tasty snacks or getting a drink when the babies sneak over to the water dish while King Cock – AKA Isabella, watches imperiously from nearby. Little Joe did not come back out of the coop the next day, sad sad emoji.

I made a chunnel for my birds – a chicken tunnel. The idea was to link up the chicken yard with the horrendously overgrown garden, which is fenced to keep out the everloving deer. We have a good swathe of backyard with no trees, which apparently acts as a landing strip for predatory fucking birds, so the chicken yard has an enormous net over the top, hence they can’t just wander willynilly to the garden. 

Anyhoo, the chunnnel was working great, and Princess Fiona got into the habit of taking the babies for their morning nap out there, away from the rest of the assholes, in the dappled shade and relative quiet of the orchard in between. But owls, motherfucking owls. Owls are not all nocturnal, contrary to what I had “learned” my whole damn life, and “owls” eat birds, other birds, nasty fuckers.

An owl came swooping out of the daytime sky and clawed a baby bird through the fucking wire, grasping the chunnel and pulling and pushing it until it managed to cut off the head of a baby. I know the wire isn’t bullet-proof but cheese and rice, people, I thought it might have been cannibal-proof. Apparently not. 

So now we’re down to 8 babies and I count them as often as I see them, because chicken babies, like their human counterparts, find ways to try to kill themselves. I’ve  had to cover the fence with more fencing so they can’t wander around the yard chirping about snack time to all and sundry predators, and frankly, ain’t nobody got time fo’ dat because my own babies still sort of try and kill themselves or each other. The only saving graces they have in common is their general cuteness so I, at least, won’t kill them.

Peekaboo baby!