Is Everything Awesome?

The Lego Movie is in heavy rotation in our house at the moment. For those of you who haven't had the joy of seeing it a billion times, or even once (and let me assure you, once is quite enough), I'll fill you in.

The movie centres around the Lego city of Bricksburg, which is ruled by President Business. There, we meet a Lego man (naturally), a happy construction worker named Emmet.  He begins narrating the story, informing us that, in Bricksburg - you guessed it - Everything Is Awesome!

The Lego citizens of Bricksburg only need one book entitled:


How To Always Fit, Have Everyone Like You And Always Be Happy! 

This book tells everyone in five simple steps how to achieve what the title promises. They are:

Step One

Breathe.

Step Two

Exercise.

Step Three

Shower and wear clothes.

Step Four

Enjoy popular songs like Everything Is Awesome and watch hit television shows like Where Are My Pants?

Step Five

Always obey President Business's instructions or you'll be put to sleep.


It is at this point, barely into the movie, that I find my teeth grating and am ready to call bullshit. I'm probably missing the point or something. 

There is probably a pivotal scene where Emmet realises that President Business is corrupting everyone into believing that everything is awesome. I'm not sure, I've never been able to sit through the whole movie.

At the very least, I'm definitely over-thinking what is meant to be a light-hearted, fun movie for kids. But still, bare with me, I think I have a point, and it's this:

Is this the greatest message to give to children? That you should ALWAYS fit in, ALWAYS be happy and have everyone like you? Is it possible for EVERYTHING to be awesome, ALL THE TIME?

After all, on a daily basis I certainly manage to achieve at least four out of five of those steps listed above and I'm certain that not everyone likes me. I know, hard to believe, isn't it? Go figure.

Breathe. Check. I do it without thinking.

Shower and wear clothes. Check. Okay, sometimes I skip a shower, but only if I'm staying home and not subjecting my stinky self to anyone. I often wear clothes, albeit unfashionable ones, but clothes nevertheless.

Exercise. Check.

Enjoy popular songs and hit television shows. Check. 

The fact that, a) they were popular songs 40 years ago; and, b) I watch Offspring while doing a fair amount of eye-rolling, so I'm not sure if I'm technically enjoying it; are completely irrelevant.

I do all of this, but is everything awesome and I am liked, do I fit in and ALWAYS feel happy? No.

As I said, I'm probably reading too much into this and need to get out more. I just can't help thinking that if, as a teen, I'd come to the revolutionary realisation that: you don't need to be liked by everyone, nor do you need to like everyone; this would have saved me a fair amount of angst.

In fact, the above statement has become some words to live by. Along with the following statements:

You wouldn't worry about what others thought of you if you knew how seldom they did. (Thank you, Dr Phil).

My mental health has to be more important than what somebody may think of me. (Thank you, Bronwyn Fox, author of Power Over Panic). 

Furthermore, I'm attempting to teach my boys that it's okay to not be happy all the time. As a parent, it's all too easy to fall into the trap of thinking that you just want your kids to be happy. Yes, ideally this is my preference too. But, realistically, happiness is just one of a range of emotions that we all experience over our lifetime.

Sometimes I'm happy. Other times I'm sad, frustrated, anxious, bored, furious, bewildered, amused, irritable, and every other emotion you can think of. And this can be all in the space of half an hour at certain times of the month.

"I'm not happy," Mr 5 will wail, as we trudge home from school. Or he'll sigh and say in pitiful tones: "I'm saaad."

"That's okay," I respond "nobody is happy all the time. You'll be happy again later."

Yep, I'm a mean Mum. Please note: this particular sadness is usually related to me having said a firm no to his requests to buy him a lolly at the shop on the way home, so I know he'll get over it. If I thought he was persistently sad all the time, I wouldn't be quite so dismissive.

He's also suffered from the same phenomenon that his brother had. Fear of Conan The Librarian. Every week, when Tuesday rolled around and it was Library day at school, he didn't want to go. Apparently the Teacher/Librarian is a tad scary. It seems that she raises her voice a lot. This may have been frightening to my boys as I am very softly spoken and they're probably not used to it. 

My first instinct was charge up to the school and demand that Conan The Librarian STOP petrifying my precious boy. But I didn't. I just explained to Mr 5 that some people have loud voices and that his teacher has told me what a good boy he is in class, so he has no need to fear her raising her voice at him. He seems to have slowly gotten over this fear now. 

Meanwhile, Mr 10 is not as enamoured with soccer as his brothers are. We are still encouraging him to finish the season and next year he can choose something else. He's not really into sport, like me. However, Mick and I both feel it's good for him to be outside getting exercise and mixing with other kids, instead of online or on a PlayStation all the time. In this way, I'm attempting to show him that he can be out of his comfort zone for a while and still be okay.

Sometimes I think I'm not setting the greatest example with this. I feel like I haven't challenged myself or pushed myself out of my comfort zone enough. Then I realise I'm a quiet, shy, introverted Aspie who became a mother to three boys and lives with the all the chaos, questions, noise, sibling rivalry and cuddles that go with the job description. Yep, I'm definitely out of my comfort zone. Thank God for those cuddles. Those cuddles make up for all the rest. 

I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing or not in forcing my boys out of their comfort zone a bit. Maybe I'm wrong. But, unfortunately, life isn't always happy and comfortable all the time.

So I guess a silly little Lego Movie where Everything Is Awesome for an hour or two probably isn't a bad thing for my boys. As long as we balance it a bit with other things. 

The only other remaining question is: How do I get that damn song out of my head? Somebody make it stooooop! 

Linking up with Emma from Five Degrees Of Chaos for The Lounge. 

                                  
            Do you think children should be happy ALL the time?

                              What are your words to live by?

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Life And Other L Words

You may have noticed that I have been missing from this space lately. If you haven’t then I would prefer it if you would please just pretend that you have for the sake of my fragile ego. I might cry otherwise and it wouldn’t be pretty. It would definitely be an ugly cry. Hideous, even. Not that you would be able to see it but I’m hoping that just the thought of having that image in your head would be disturbing enough.

The reason for my absence is very simple and can be summed up in one word *:

Life.

That shit gets busy sometimes.

Not to mention the other L word.

Lazy.

SHHHHHHH!! I said don’t mention that word!  Oh right, it was me who mentioned it. Silly me.  As if I would ever be so frightfully lazy that I simply couldn’t be bothered boring you with this blog. That never happens. No way. Well, not very often anyway. Ahem.

Anyway, I may as well bring you up to date with everything that has been keeping me as busy as a blue arsed bogan fly. On that point, do flies really have blue arses? I digress but you know me, always asking the important questions.  Back to being busy -I was going to let you know what has been keeping me so busy. In keeping with the lazy theme I will do so in the good old convenient ‘I can’t be arsed with anything else’ bullet point form.  You’re welcome. Here goes:

• Children: I have 3 of them. They are rather time consuming, requiring constant feeding, bathing and cuddling on a daily basis. Who knew? It was so much easier having a pet rock. (It was a 70’s thing. I’m showing my age. Sigh.) Except for the cuddling bit. Children are cuddlier, I must admit.
• Husbands: Actually just one husband.  He is here ALL THE TIME. All day. Every day. Constantly. He regularly attempts to engage me in conversations about things I have no idea about. Like finches or shares. He even made me feed his finches worms. This may be grounds for divorce. Did I mention that he is here ALL THE TIME?? Don’t get me wrong, I love the man. I’d just love it if he left the house occasionally too. Of course I’m conveniently ignoring the fact that he did go to Darwin for 10 days recently (which is why I had to feed the finches) and to Wollongong  just the other day. Minor details.
• Mr 4 became Mr 5 yesterday.
• Mr 5 had Kindergarten Orientation this week with two more sessions to go.
• Mr 12 had High School Orientation with more sessions to go.
• I bought a new Dyson. This has resulted in me momentarily becoming all domesticated and actually using it regularly.  I’m sure the novelty will wear off very soon.
• I am trying desperately to regain Exercise Addiction. Between this point and the former, I fear the end is near.
• I also bought some new saucepans. This was all good until I realised I had to rearrange the kitchen cupboards in order to fit them anywhere. And possibly even cook with them occasionally. Ahem.
• Counselling- my regular counsellor buggered off or something so I had to start over with another one. Hmph. Then, after I had one appointment and booked another, they had booked me in with yet another counsellor. It’s like a game of Musical Counsellors. Awesome.
• I finally rang up again about a so-called Adult Asperger’s Support group only to be informed by a woman sounding like a bogan Shazza (not that there’s anything wrong with bogans, of course) that the group was for carers of people with Asperger’s not people with Asperger’s. Natch. Why would we need support? We’re a bunch of self-absorbed, stimming, monologuing arseholes with no empathy. Silly me.
• Wallowing ,like the big sooky la la I am. See previous two points.
• Yet another L word – Lego. Dealing with Lego in some way or another takes up an extraordinary amount of my time. Buying it, assembling it, and cleaning it up from every corner of the house so I don’t suck it up with my Dyson.
• Children: Yes I know I already mentioned them. But they really do take up SO MUCH TIME that I thought they were worth another mention. I’m not complaining about this. In fact, I’ve been deliberately spending more time offline in order to spend more time with my boys. This has resulted in the following games, mostly involving Mr 5 and sometimes Mr 9:
• Pretending to be a dog. Mr 5, not me. I’ve gone so far as to actually give him water in a bowl. If I give him a collar and leash that would be taking it too far, right?
• Pretending to be a bird hatching out of an egg and building a nest. Mr 5 again. Ditto, if I put him in a cage that’s going too far, right?
• Hide and Seek- an old favourite. However, I can now no longer squeeze into the same hidey holes as I did when Mr 12 was little which is rather disconcerting. Apparently not quite disconcerting enough to make me pass on the cake for Mr 5’s birthday yesterday. Classy.
• Blue screen of death – this happened with one lap top which means we have only one and Micky Blue Eyes uses this for work. So I miss out until we get another one. Sigh.

Therefore, I will most likely continue to be missing in action until Christmas. Oh NOOOOOOOOOO, I said the C word!!  I tried to cancel it but nobody listened!! HMPH.  Okay, that’s it until the next exciting episode of Days Of Our Bogan Lives. I will be busy with all of the above when I am not sulking  in the corner about my failure to cancel Christmas. Sniff. 

Later, dudes.

What has been on your bullet list lately?

*The fact that I could sum it all up in one word did not stop me from banging on with another nine hundred or so. You’re welcome.

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Leaves On A Stream

Hello there! I am linking up this old post for Life This Week. The one where I took the piss out of being mindful. Then I got cancer and suddenly shit got real and I had to start taking this stuff seriously... But that's another story.

Anyway here are my rantings from 2013. Enjoy.

As a general rule I am usually quite placid and easy going. Consequently it does take rather a lot to really piss me off. So therefore I knew I was going to find this topic extremely difficult. Not much truly riles me. I am languid and sedate. Especially now, as I am slowly becoming proficient at this whole mindfulness marlarkey, you see. So even that barking dog next door, barely ruffles a reaction in me. I am focused in the present moment with impartial non-judgement. I won’t let it bother me. Nope. No way. It’s just a dog barking. ENDLESSLY. Big deal, right?

Similarly, that mountain of lego that seems to multiply and spread to every corner of the house, is just lego. Silly old lego. EVERYWHERE. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve trodden on it.  The hours that it takes to painstakingly make sure every single last piece of the crap, erm.. I mean, the lego, is off the floor before you can vacuum, is just another part of life. Impartial non-judgement. Yep, that’s me these days. I get it.  It’s neither good nor bad. It just is. Doesn’t bother me AT ALL.  If I miss a few pieces and therefore inadvertently vacuum them up, so what? It only means the vacuum cleaner will become blocked LOSE SUCTION AND I HAVE TO FUCK AROUND TAKING IT OUTSIDE AND TAKING IT APART TO SEE WHERE THE PIECE IS STUCK…but, oops, why am I shouting?  Sorry.  Back to the mindfulness. Breathe. It’s no big deal. This mindfulness is really the SHIZZ. Totally works.

If I slave over a hot stove cooking a wonderful meal for my family only to serve it up to three ungrateful bastards lovely boys who recoil in horror as if I had served them dog shit on toast, why should I let it get to me?  Especially if, at that precise moment, Micky Blue Eyes decides to talk to me about something accountant like and tedious important, saying something like “Blah blah blah spreadsheet, blah blah blah profit margins blah blah something blah blah”(or at least that’s what I hear), it doesn’t make me want to poke my own eyeballs out. No way. I’m too calm and centred for that.

I can sit down to have a cakie and it doesn’t annoy me that it’s bad for me, while boring old broccoli is extremely good for me. Because I’m eating mindfully, so that means I’ll be able to stop after a few mouthfuls. Somehow the whole cake is gone with those few mindful mouthfuls, though. Ahem. Details. 

I am totally grounded and centred in the moment. NOTHING bothers me anymore. Now that I am mindful the following things simply never annoy me AT ALL:

·       Waiting in queues.

·       Vague Facebook status updates.

·       Sales assistants who are nowhere to be seen when you need them, but fling the curtains back to the change rooms while hollering “How are you going in there?” when you are half naked.

·       My boys endless fascination with Spiderman and all superheroes.

·       Ditto their Harry Potter fascination.

·       The Voice judges and all of their phoney gushing over the contestants. When Ricky Martin says “you took me to another place” I no longer think, well why don’t you go to that place and stay there, Ricky? Nope. No way.

·       Having to share a computer.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment and STILL having to wait.

·       Making a doctor’s appointment at 8am for the first appointment to avoid the previously mentioned waiting and STILL WAITING.

·       The gross unfairness of male grooming and maintenance versus female grooming and maintenance.

·       Telemarketers.

·       Bra’s.

Yep, mindfulness has cured me of all of all that annoyance. What a relief Sigh.

 So when I went to see a shrink, riddled with crippling anxiety and she suggested this mindfulness crap technique and gave me a cd, which I listened to and some dude implored me in a flat monotone to just let my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream, it didn’t totally annoy me that I paid $150 bucks an hour for this ABSOLUTE FUCKING CRAP!!! LEAVES ON A FUCKING STREAM!! I’M MORE LIKELY TO IMAGINE MYSELF THROWING THE FUCKING CD AT YOU!!  FUCKING MINDFULNESS!! GIVE ME SOME FUCKING VALIUM AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  YOU TOO, YOU FUCKING STUPID BARKING DOG!! FUCKING SHUUT UUUUUUUUUUUP!

AHEM.

Good lord. Where did that come from? Oh dear. Right then, I’m off to practice watching my thoughts drift past like leaves on a stream. Or, to kick something. One or the other.

What are your pet peeves? Do you 'get' mindfulness?

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About A Boy, Or Boys, Actually

The other day I went to pick up Mr 4 from kindy, Mr 11 and 8 trailing behind me. Both had 'graduated' from the same kindy, replete with caps and gowns. Can you believe it? Five year olds 'graduating'? Anyway, as we filed back out the door, the rather talkative lady who runs the day care exclaimed over how much the boys had grown, adding "Are you going to have any more, Vanessa?"

"No," I replied quickly "I'm too old."

She scoffed at this, then declared "But, you have to have a girl!"

Seriously? Is someone coming to arrest me if I don't? Is there a law saying we all have to have at least one child of each gender? Did I miss that memo?

Not that I mean anything against girls. Especially since I used to be one. I'm just bemused by the insistence in society that if your children are all male, you must have a girl. It's not the first time people have insisted this to me. In addition, I often get pitying looks and veiled comments that seem to imply I've been given a dodgy deal having three healthy, gorgeous boys.

Does the opposite happen to parents of only girls?

In a conversation with another Mum at Playgroup, who has one daughter, she confessed that she really wasn't keen to have any more children. The she suggested that I must have kept going for three to get that elusive girl. Not true. After five long years of infertility, I never thought twice about the gender of my children. I was just so grateful to be able have healthy children.

I was convinced I was having a girl, second time around, when I was pregnant with Mr 8.  This was due to a whole load of bollocks I was told by a couple of psychics.  They both predicted that I would have a boy and then a girl by age 32 or 33.

As I was 33 at the time, while pregnant, I believed it.  Well, of course they are going to say this. If someone is pregnant it is certainly going to be one or the other.  At least that way they have a 50% chance of getting some predictions (lies) right!

If psychics are going to make up this stuff, couldn’t they at least be more inventive and make up something really astonishing or super exciting such as 'you are going to give birth to a genius who will discover the cure for cancer.'

Anyway, because I was so convinced I was having a girl, I thought I would find out the sex.  Another boy! Another miracle for me.  We thought we might not have any children at one stage. Oh yeah, I already mentioned that. 

I truly didn’t have any disappointed, let down feeling. 

Even though Micky Blue Eyes goes around telling people that we thought we’d have a third to try for a girl,  such a thought honestly did not enter my mind.  I knew by this time that we only made boys for whatever reason. When I had a late miscarraige at 19 weeks with our third baby, another boy, I was devastated. It wasn't as if I didn't care just because it was boy. So,when we were lucky enough to have a fourth boy, again, I was delighted.

I like being a mother of boys. Yes, there are things that go with it that are tedious.  As much as I don’t have patience for many boy type things. Lego, Star Wars, Spider Man, Lego, Harry Potter, Lego, Lego and more bloody Lego.

Taken by Mr8: some of his favourite things.

 

Seriously, that stuff is the Cancer of toys. It seems to multiply and spread to the most inconvenient places. Just when you think you have beaten it or contained it one place, there it is again. Everywhere. In the bath tub, backyard, kitchen, and your bed. Right under your backside, naturally, when you heave your weary bones in at midnight, absolutely knackered. 

Plus, we haven't exactly had the most illustrious track record with the stuff, as it has necessitated two trips to the hospital thus far. Once, when Mr 8, then Mr 5, helpfully shoved a tiny piece up his nostril. Another, when Mr 4, then Mr 3, was suspected of swallowing a piece. X-rays confirmed that it was, in fact, a false alarm, thankfully. 

However, I suspect I would have even less tolerance for many ‘girly’ things. Particularly craft. I’m just not that into it. There, I said it. All that glitter, pipe cleaners, felt paper, beads and fiddly crap.

Plus, I don’t really do pink and frilly. Pink makes me puke, generally. No doubt if I'd had a girl or girls I would have crossed over to the pink side and went crazy buying pretty things. Therefore having boys has helped us to save money. (I'm conveniently ignoring the fact that we are flat broke bogans.) I do tend to assume that being boys, when they grow up they will go their own way, while a daughter would stay closer to their parents. However, I probably believe this because I'm still a Mummy's girl (and a Daddy's girl) at 42. Not every female is. Ahem.

As a mother of boys, I also made the decision to call their dangly bits by the correct term. A penis is a penis, the same as an arm is an arm, right? This mortified my mother who had told my brother growing up that it was a ‘Charlie’.  Apparently the look on his face the first time he was introduced to somebody named Charlie was priceless.

We definitely won't be having a daughter. We're done. I had a tubal ligation a few years ago. Therefore the relief I feel every month, getting a period is slightly ridiculous. It's just that after everything about pregnancy being slightly bizarre for me, I fear it could still happen. I tried for years, in my 20's when supposedly women are more fertile. At the time even fertility treatments did not work. With my first pregnancy I didn't even know it was happening until it was all over bar the shouting, as they say. Then, I became pregnant easily twice when I was over 35. Weird. I worry I could be that random strange person who could fall pregnant in my 40's, after having a tubal ligation. I don't want that to happen, even if I could be guaranteed to have a girl. My family is complete.

I feel blessed to have my boys and I hope I can bring them up to be decent men. Even if we are something resembling bogans, at least we are nice bogans. Or noice ones, as the case may be. Also, undoubtedly one of the best things about having boys, apart from all the cuddles, is that Micky Blue Eyes loves taking them out to soccer games and occasionally camping. Which gives me that much coveted quiet time. It’s a win/win  situation for us. 

And one day, I hope, they will eventually lose the fascination with Lego.

Do you have boys? If so, all I really want to know is how to you deal with the Lego?

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Too Much Testosterone

I must confess I don't really drive very much, which was today's I Must Confess topic prompt. So, instead I am confessing that I am totally over so many 'boy' things. They may very well be 'girl' things too. Just bear with me while I totally generalise, okay?

There is too much testosterone in our house.  A bevy of boisterous boys.  Oh okay, only three.  I'm not that mad.  I do not wish for a soccer team.  Although I'm pretty sure we could have produced one if we'd kept on going.   Always full of boundless energy.  Well, except when they are lazing in front of the TV.

Master 10 sits in his favourite recliner directly in front of the television and frequently hollers for a cup of tea.  Yes, he drinks tea.  At least he does say please.   Masters 8 and 3 will loll on the lounge and I will have a moments reprieve while they are engrossed in the TV, before they inevitably start arguing over Lego or Master 8's current obsession 'Trashies'.  Don't ask.

Living in a family where I am the only female naturally means I rarely ever have free reign over the remote control.  I will always be the last person to ever lay my hands on it.  Strangely, however, I am always the first person who is queried when it goes missing.

"Have you seen the remote?" Micky Blue Eyes will bark, eyes darting around the room. 
"No, " I reply, exasperated "When would I ever have it?  You just have to look for it."  So he does.

Now,  I'm not sure if this is the general male way of looking for things or only the males at our house, but his version involves standing in the middle of the room looking around vacantly, as if he expects the thing to come flying out to him by some sort of supernatural force of ESP or something, before announcing "I can't see it."

Of course you can't dear, you haven't moved anything, I think frustratedly.  Then his eyes will wander over to the couch, and, if I happen to be sitting there, rest suspiciously on me, until he says "Are you sitting on it?"

Well, call me stupid, but somehow, I imagine that if I had something remote control sized wedged underneath my (admittedly rather large) backside, I might reasonably be expected to notice it was there.
I sigh and get up reluctantly.  Minutes later it is retrieved, usually lodged down the side or back of Master 10's recliner.  Or his Throne, as it also known.

Being a mother of three boys, there are many things that I am completely over.  Searching for the remote is one just one of them.   There are many others.  Like these:


As promised, here is my list of all the 'boy' things I am over. For the purpose of this blog, I may be generalising a little. I'm sure there are lots of girls who like some of these things too. If not, then I'm assuming it would just be something else like Barbies, or beads or Bratz dolls or whatever it is girls like these days (frankly, I have no idea) that parents of girls would be over. I, however, in no particular order, am completely over the following:

HARRY POTTER:

Sorry J.K. Rowling, I know you are the biggest selling author of all time (at least I think so, I'm too lazy to actually check for sure) so, while completely in awe of you, I will not be reading your books. Ever. Yes, I know she's not losing any sleep over this, considering the gazillion or so of those things she's sold, but still, I must protest somehow.

I love reading. It's just that after being forced to watch endless TV screenings of the films (despite having the full DVD set, as well) I am truly over it.

LEGO :

There must be 700 gazillion Lego sets in existence, each containing 700 gazillion pieces. These sets are hideously expensive. Then, once you have forked over a fortune for them, you take them home, they require hours of patience to painstakingly put them together.

Following which, they will be played with for approximately ten minutes, before being smashed and all the pieces never found again. Plus, every parent of boys (and some Lego-minded girls) knows the pain of stepping on a piece of Lego. OUCH!

SOCCER and RUGBY LEAGUE:

My father and husband are are totally soccer obsessed. Now my boys are fast becoming so too, especially Master 10. In the tradition of the old saying "if you can't beat em, join em" I have tried to drum up an interest . This worked well for my mother, who now sits up at ridiculous hours with my father, watching Man United play.

Not so well for me, however. My eyes glaze over after only ten seconds. By 20 seconds I am considering stabbing my own eyes repeatedly with pins, just to make it more interesting. How do people get themselves so worked up over this that they actually sob if their team loses the Grand Final?

Additionally, ever since my brief crush at age 12, on Wayne Pearce evaporated, even the promise of very fit men, in very tight shorts can't seem to entice me.

STAR WARS:

And all things science fiction. May the force be with you. The force of my foot, booting you to oblivion. Incidentally, while I am on this subject, some folks develop life-long fascinations with Star Wars, Star Trek etc and seem to think that this makes them dark, mysterious and intensely interesting individuals. It does not. This fascination is just as deeply disturbing and mind-numbingly boring to somebody else as my Carpenters obsession is to you. Just sayin'.

SUPER HERO'S:

Spiderman, Batman, Iron Man etc. How many more movies can conceivably be churned out with these characters?

A lot it seems. There are new Spiderman and Batman films hitting the screens this year. Which means my boys will want to see them. As well as wanting every toy manufactured in conjunction with them too.

On the one hand, I am happy to let them watch something that will keep them riveted for an hour or two, so that I can do something else. On the other hand, it provokes emulating behaviours. Especially in Master 3, who will revert to wanting to dress like Spiderman every time we leave the house, a habit we've only just nipped in the bud.

WWE WRESTLING: Fortunately, they seem to have lost interest in this one presently. Thankfully, as no one should ever have to endure watching this particular form of torture.

However, as you all know by now, I have my own brand of torture as retribution. My Carpenters obsession. And I will be turning it up LOUD.

 Linking up with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

 

What are you completely 'over' at your house? Any of the above? Or is something else driving you crazy?

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