One Word: 2019 Edition

Have you ever heard of the one word or intention for the year thing? Yes? No? Love it? Loathe it? Couldn't care less? Move along then. There's nothing here for you. Unless I can convert you.

You see. I'm a convert. I previously scoffed at such a thing. Seemed like a load of hippy drippy bullocks to me. However, I had an epiphany of sorts. It occurred to me that I was being a sour old cynical negative Nellie. The process is helpful to many, and if it doesn't work out well, no harm done. Besides, I quite like words in general. I like reading them, I like writing them, so why not choose one of them for the year?

Look, clearly I'll never be one of those positive Polly's, but I don't have a cynical b!+$h all the time either.

So with that in mind, I resolved to embrace the concept. The results have been tenuous to say the least.

My word for 2017 was MOVE.  I was hoping to form a strong exercise habit, like I have in the past. However,  I proceeded to take this word as more of a light suggestion. Oops. There was some movement but not quite as much as there could have been.  

For 2018 I decided to address my inner mean girl with some self-compassion. Therefore my word was COMPASSION. Mixed results yet again. I have made some strides in being kinder to myself, however I consider it to be still a work in progress.

I find myself in the interesting quandary or dichotomy of needing to be kinder to myself, yet also needing to require more of myself. See above. Self-compassion and self-care isn't just about eating cake and being indulgent. And...erm... not moving. Dammit.

So yeah, still working on it, as I mentioned. This brings me to the current year.

I mulled over what word to choose for 2019. There are so many frightfully good words.  In the end I decided to keep it simple.  

My word for 2018 is...  drum roll, please (you have to imagine it...):

LOVE

Basic old love. Here's why:

• It segues nicely from my 2018 word COMPASSION.
• I  still need a reminder to be more loving and kinder to myself.
• I am lucky and blessed to have so much love in my life even when I am not very lovable.
• Some folk think you cannot be loved until you completely love yourself. I am living proof that's not true. See above. 
• What the world needs now is love, sweet love. It's the only thing that there's just too little of. OK, that's a Burt Bacharach song, but still. Relevant.
• Like I said, I love words. I love books. I love my family.  And yes, I DO love cake. Anything wrong with that? 
• The overriding theme of most Carpenters songs is love.
• Ditto Montgomery books.
• I suspect I'm a softie and incurable romantic at heart despite all my surface cynicism. Yeah, I'm not fooling anyone with all that. I know.
• Love is a groovy thing. It knows how to make you sing. And it fills up your life with sunshine and joy. OK, that's the words to a little known Carpenters song, but again. Relevant. See above.

• I'm not setting myself up to fail but choosing such a delightful word. And you never know, I may just learn to love moving again anyway. Perhaps not as much as cake, but anything is better than nothing. 
• I think this process is supposed to be an intention not a just a word.  So celebrating love and being loving to myself and others seems like a pretty good thing to me. 
• Ultimately this seems like a much more beneficial thing that a new year's resolution, which always seem to be about weight loss. And, if you're like me, always always seem to be to broken. Usually on January 1st. Forgeddaboutit. (Totally a word - maybe that should be my word?!!).

So there you have it. My word and intention for 2019 is all about LURRRRVE.  

And now it's back to some Burt Bacharach to fade out.  Again, you have to imagine it, or clink on the link below. As sung by Dionne Warwick. Because as brilliant a composer as Burt is, he ain't no singer. 

Sing it with me! What the world needs now....!!!

Do you have a word or intention? 

Read More

Are Exams Important?

 Hello, people! Welcome to another Monday! That glorious and beloved day of the week. People love Mondays! The same way they love root canal. Do you know what I'm saying?
Anyway, once again I am joining in the fun for Life This Week over at Denyse Whelan Blogs.  I missed it last week. Oops. 

Let's talk about exams! Simply because that's the prompt. Otherwise I wouldn't really talk about them. If I did I'd have two words: 

EXAMS SUCK!

I say this because I wasn't very good at them. 

Case in point: it may be hard to believe it (if this blog is anything to go by), but English was one of my best subjects in high school. However, I failed English in my HSC!

My poor mother was so astonished and dumbfounded that she truly believed there must have been some kind of mistake. She insisted that we enquire into this grave injustice.

We wrote back to check. This was back in in 1988, the time of the old snail mail.  Subsequently, I received confirmation of my abysmal results. YAY! 

EPIC FAIL.  

Every now again I still have hideous dreams (nightmares) that I'm back at school or doing exams. It's always such a relief to wake up!

Whenever I'm in a situation of being tested or having to think quickly on the spot, I can't seem to process it. It was exactly the same for me with job interviews. I'm not sure if it's an ASD thing or just a Ness thing. Either way, clearly I'm special. So very SPECIAL. 

I sometimes wonder if I'm doing the right thing as a parent, because I'm not pushy or demanding about exams or achievements. Sure, I want my boys to do their best, but I don't want them to be despondent if they don't or can't. The HSC and high school is not the be and end all of life! I don't think so, anyway. But then, I would, wouldn't I. Considering what I just revealed. Moving along...

Anyway, in my (admittedly limited) experience, no employer was ever the least bit interested in school or HSC results. I have no idea if this has changed these days. Has it? 

So that's my thoughts about exams! Deep, huh? Yeah, not really. It's obvious why I never became an academic. 

However, I feel like I should throw in an impromptu exam, just for shits and giggles. I should test YOU. But I know nothing. NOTHING!

Hang on, I know about The Carpenters!  

May I present to you the most IMPORTANT test you will ever take. 

 A Carpenters Pop Quiz: 

What were The Carpenters Christian names?: 

a) Richard and Linda.
b) Sharon and Darren.
c) Karen and Richard.

The Carpenters were one of the most successful pop music duos of all time. But how did they meet?

a) In college.
b) At the hairdressers, getting a bowl haircut.  
c) They were brother and sister!

How did they come up with the name "Carpenters"?

a) They were devoted Christians and Jesus was a Carpenter.
b) They loved woodworking
c) It was their family name. Duh. 

The Carpenters often referred to their music as being influenced by 'the three B's'. What/who were they referring to? 

a) Boring, banal, bland.*
b) Beethoven, Burt Bacharach and Barbra Streisand.
c) The Beatles, The Beach Boys and Burt Bacharach.

*(I don't think we can be friends anymore). 

Finish the lyric: Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near...?

a) They sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue . 
b) Before the rising sun, we fly.
c) Just like me, they long to be, close to you. 

During the 1970s, The Carpenters were known for voicing THE ultimate burning question of that tumultuous decade. What was it?

a) Don't you remember you told me you loved me, baby? 
b) Can't we stop hurting each other? 
c) All of the above. 

What instruments did the duo play?

a) None. They just pretended like all those dumb 70s pop groups.**

a) Glockenspiel and tambourine.
c) Piano and drums. 

**(You're pushing it).

In 1978 The Carpenters recorded a Christmas album. What was its title?

a) Christmas With The Carpenters.
b)  Merry Christmas, Darling.
c) Christmas Portrait. 


Karen Carpenter tragically died on February 4th, 1983 at just 32. How did she die? 

a) A plane crash.
b) Who cares?***
c)  Heart failure due to complications from anorexia nervosa.

***(You are officially dead to me). 


Which iconic pop star is responsible for this quote about Karen Carpenter: 
"I'm completely influenced by her harmonic sensibility."

a) Cher.
b) Michael Jackson.
c) Madonna. 

If you answered with all C's, then congratulations!

You scored A PLUS! 

As for the rest of you; take a good hard look at yourselves. What are you actually DOING with your lives?? Disgraceful! 

This is the most IMPORTANT exam! The rest are rubbish. 

You've been told. 

Now off you go and educate yourself about all things Carpenters! 

But before you go, just one tiny question...

What exactly DO 'normal' people think about and remember? Ahem.

Linking up for Life This Week. 

Also linking for  Open Slather and Mummy Mondays.

Do you think exams are important? You know, proper ones...? 

Images: Pexels; Pinterest

Read More

I Vant To Be Alone

It is Easter Sunday and I now have alone time.  Mick has taken the boys to a soccer match. The house is echoing with blissful silence.  I can even hear a bird cooing along with the wind chimes outside the door. No deafening roar of a PlayStation, combined with the television blasing. No cries of "Muum, can you get me a cup of tea?" vying with "He started it!" to be heard.

 Consequently, I cannot think of single interesting thing to write about.  So I expect this blog entry will be boring as batshit.  Just like all the others then, I guess. Oh well.

Whenever I have absolutely no hope in hell of getting near the computer, then, no doubt I would be bursting forth with all sorts of brilliantly witty insights and revelations (ie. full of shit). Today, I've got nothing.  But since nobobdy is reading this anyway I guess it doesn't matter.

So, now that I have alone time, here is a list of things I could do:

• Exercise (I do need the endorphins.  No point worrying about burning calories.  I could jog to Melbourne and back and I still wouldn't have burned off the calories I've eaten in chocolate.)
• Blast Carpenters REALLY LOUD.
• Write
• Eat more chocolate
• Do 20 truck loads of washing up (hmm might actually be forced to, if I fancy a cup of tea later)
• Read a book
• Put away 20 truck loads of laundry
• Eat more chocolate
• Clear away/tidy
• Clean the bathroom
• Stare into space vacantly
• Eat more chocolate
• Have a bubble bath
• Call a friend
• Text a friend
• Ironing ( yeah right)
• Watch tv
• Watch a girly movie
• Eat more chocolate

Right. So far, have managed to read a book, eat more chocolate, stare into space vacantly, eat more chocolate, blast Carpenters, eat more chocolate ,write this boring as batshit blog and eat more chocolate.  Comforting when you can tick stuff off your to-do list isn't it?

On a day when most people would unite with their extended families for a big get together or bbq, I am quite content being alone. I have chocolate. Books. Carpenters. Computer.  Ahhh, heaven.

I guess it seems like I don't really love my kids when I crave alone time so much.  But I really do love them.  I just really love them to go out with Mick and leave me alone sometimes too.  This gives me time to ponder on things like the deep and intellectual thinker I am.  Like my reflections on being so quiet and introverted.  Coming soon.

Read More

A Day In The Life Of A Mad Boganville Housewife Part Three

Time for the stunning conclusion of a day in my life. Read on for fascinating insight.

PART THREE

The boys now all sit gape jawed looking at the tv.  "Do your homework." I tell them.
"Not now!" shouts Master 8 "later!"
"But my favourite shows on!" roars Master 10
"When does that finish?" I ask, patiently.
"Half an hour."
"Okay." I comply.

  Half an hour later.  "Do your homework." I tell them.
"But I'm going on the trampoline!" Master 10 says frantically, trying to shut the back door so his brothers can't come out. He wants alone time.  Master 3 starts crying at the door.  Master 8 tries to placate him unsuccessfully, receiving a thump to his stomach for his efforts. So he then proceeds to kick him in the shins in return. 

Another twenty minutes of wailing and shouts of "He started it!" ensue, while I try to comfort and smoothe over the argument.  Master 10 wanders back in from the trampoline. 

"Homework!" I remind them. Mick chimes in too.  Reluctantly they get their homework and sit at the table.  "What's twelves times nine?" asks Master 10, scrunching his face up in concentration.  I rack my brains and come up with.....nothing.
"Ummm..not sure," I reply, feeling stupid "ask Daddy."

Mick prattles off the answers immediately, unwittingly doing Master 10's homework for him.  More grumbling, shouting and arguments errupt as Master 3 tries to scribble all over Master 8's homework.  Finally it is done.  Now for the next battle.

"You have to have a bath. " I tell them.
"But I had one yesterday!" howls Master 10
"Later!" declares Master 8.  Master 3 is already half naked.  He loves baths. 
"Bubbles!" he says in excitement.
"I don't have any."
"Want bubbles!"
I squirt shampoo in.  I try to coax Master 8 or 10 into the bath also. The door bell chimes.

It is their friend, Miss 9, from next door, asking to play.  They scurry off, happily, dodging a bath.  Master 3 comes running out swathed in nothing but bubbles.  "Want go plaaaay!" he cries.  I wrestle him to get him dressed.

They all go out and start jumping on the trampoline, bouncing around blissfully and playing 'tips'.  Next they decide to play hide and seek.  Suddenly the back yard is left in eerie silence.  "Where are they?" Mick asks, looking up from the computer in alarm.

I rush out to the front of the house and scan the street, panicked. Nothing.  Then I hear a giggle over the fence.  They are hiding next door at Miss 9's house.  "Play in the back yard only." I order.  They scowl and sulk, then obey and start playing on the swings.  Master 3 demands to pushed. "Higher!" he orders, giggling.

Miss 9's Mum hollers over the fence for her to come home.  She skips off.  The boys and I trudge back inside. I realise I should start dinner. Suddenly, I remember they still haven't had their baths.
"You have to have a bath after dinner." I warn them.

Mick grills the chops on the bbq health grill while I boil baby potatoes and corn on the cob. I cut up salad.  Master 3 strolls into the kitchen.  An overwhelming stench emanates from his direction.
"Did you do a poo?" I ask, frantic.
"No!" he denies it vehemently, but the smell is all too obvious.  I drag him to the bathroom. It's everywhere, in his underpants, down his legs and up his back.  "Arrrrgggh!" I yell, while the smell over powers me.

"It's not poo, it's chocolate!" Master 3 declares, defiantly. I am forced to give him another bath, this time putting a nappy on him afterwards. 

I then set the table.  The food is ready.  Master 10 puts one chop on his plate and tries to skulk to the living room with it.  "Sit at the table!" Mick and I chorus.  He does so, glowering.  All tv and play stations are switched off.

Master 8 gobbles everything in sight.  Except anything green, that is. "Eat this." Mick says sternly, putting a tiny amount of salad leaves on his plate. "NOOOOO!!!" he yells, as if we were forcing him to eat dog poop.  He manages to swallow a small piece, but not before turning nearly as green as the lettuce. 

Meanwhile  Master 3 is howling over his potatoe. "TOOO HOOOOT!!" he wails "BLOW IT!"
I blow on it half-heartedly.  "TOOOO HOOOOTT!!" he keeps on howling.  Master 10 eats his one chop and picks at a piece of corn before announcing: "I"m full. May I leave the table?" PlayStation goes back on.

Master's 8 and 3 start arguing again, this time over lego.  There is now more washing up to be done.  It's all too much.  I retreat to my room and put on a Carpenters Cd instead.

Master 3 bangs on the door, crying over some new injustice from Master 8.  I comfort him then go back to my Carpenters.   Master 8 bangs on the door.  "Mum, can you scratch my back?"
I scratch it and then go back to my Carpenters.


Bang, bang.  Master 10 this time. "I'm starving.  Can you make me some noodles and a cup of tea?" 
I give up on my Carpenters and traipse back to the kitchen, which now resembles a war zone.  I make two minute noodles, and cups of tea and coffee for everyone.

With grim determination I start washing up, when I remember they still haven't had their baths.  I sigh. Oh well, one day without a bath won't hurt I tell myself.  I need to reserve my energy.  For it is time for the mother of all battles.

Bed time.

"Time for bed!" I announce, cheerfully.
"NOOOOO!!" they shout at ear splitting volume, just as if I had announced "Time to sever off your dangly bits with a sharp instrument!"
"Five more minutes!" they yell simultaneously.
"Alright." I give in, feeling that familiar throb at the temples again.  Half an hour passes.

"Right, time for bed!"
"NOOOOO!!" they bellow, just as if I had said "Right, time for your colonic irrigation!"
"Five more minutes!"
"Alright." I retreat, feeling tired and defeated.  Half an hour passes.

"Bed time!" I try, hopefully.
"Strewth, is that the time!" says Mick, looking up from the computer in a daze, where he is blasting Iron Maiden on Youtube.  "Get your pyjamas on." he orders.  They do.

"Can we sleep in your bed?" they both ask, smiling, cherub like.
"Ask Daddy." I reply.  They do.
"Ask Mummy." he says.  They come back to me.
"No, go in your own beds." I say.  They sulk and head to their room.

"Can we read a book first?" Master 8 pleads, clutching a Where's Wally book.  My heart sinks.Those books take approximately twenty hours to 'read'.  By which point you still haven't found Wally. I suggest a different book to no avail.  I try to skip pages, but they are too smart for me.  Finally Master's 10 and 8 get into bed. 

"Can you pat me?" sobs Master 8
"Mum, come in my bed?" begs Master 3, pleadingly.  I sit and pat Master 8, while Master 3 tugs at me to come with him.

Suddenly, Master 10 springs up out of his bed with a great "RAHHHHHHHHHH!" deliberately scaring the bejesus out of us, a charming habit of his.  I rouse on him and comfort the other two, then say goodnight and take Master 3 to bed.

"Lie down on my bed." he instructs me, solemnly.
"No, I'll just sit and pat you."
"Lie down on myyy beeed!" he is crying.  I lie down.  After 15 minutes or so he starts to fall asleep.  The other two start giggling and talking across the hall.  "Shhhhhh!" I hiss, afraid they will wake Master 3 up.  I lay there for another 15 minutes or so, at which point, I nod off.

Half an hour passes.  Mick finds me there, snuggled next to Master 3, comatose, snoring.

So endeth a true saga.

Stay tuned for more musings.

Read More