School Holidays Memories

It's currently school holidays in my neck of the woods. Except I'm not anywhere near woods. I live in suburbia. But you know what I mean. 

So here's a lazy nifty bullet list of utterly random school holiday memories:

• The buzzy euphoric feeling at 3pm on the last day of term. For some reason this sensation has mysteriously disappeared as an adult and parent. Hmph.
• Staying up late just because you could.
• Sleeping in late just because you could.
• Me as a kid: "I'm borrrred!" My mum: "Hi, Bored. I'm mum/Alison."
• Lamenting the fact that all my friends* had gone away for the holidays.
• *Okay, I only had one friend. But she always went away leaving me on my lonesome. Rude.
• Going to the movies to see such classics as Grease and Xanadu. Why yes, I am quite ancient.
• Ditto going to the actual cinemas to see all the Back To Future films. Frightfully, frightfully ancient, I'm afraid.
• Patting/ smooching my dog and singing a song I made up: "You're my dear darling adorable dachshund dog!" Remember, my one friend was away. And I was a weird kid anyway. Even weirder adult. Winning. 
• Listening to endless records and cassettes. Did I mention I'm ancient?
• Singing into a hairbrush to the above mentioned records: Abba, The Carpenters, Barbra Streisand; and shockingly, even Madonna. Surprise! Sometimes I did behave like an 80s teenager. 
• Me as a kid: "Mum, I'm hungryyyy!" My mum: "Hi, Hungry, I'm mum/Alison."
• A rare family holiday to the beach side town of Nelson Bay. We shared an apartment with a colony of cockroaches, sleeping on beds that smelt like congealed decades of sweat and pee. When Mum and Dad decided to end the stay early and head home my brother and I cheered. 
• Road trips to Dubbo, Wagga Wagga or Canberra. We left in the middle of the night and my brother and I slept top to tail in the back seat of our old Datsun. 
• When we woke up during the above road trips, we gazed out the windows exclaiming over any animals we spotted. "COOOOOWWWWWWS!!!!" "HORRRRRRSSSEEEEEY'S!!!" Fast forward a few decades. On one of our road trips Mickey Blue Eyes pointed out some cows. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious," remarked one of the boys, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
• Me as a kid: "MUUUUUM!" My mum: "She went mad and they shot her!" Fast forward several decades. My boys:"MUUUUUM!" Me: "She went mad and they shot her!" 
• Going to my Auntie Eileen's place and visiting the park and swimming pool around the corner. Then we'd get chicken and chips from Happy Harry's, the milk bar around the corner. 
• Driving home from Auntie Eileen's, I'd fall asleep in the car and magically wake up in my own bed. It was like I could totally teleport or something!This ability has mysteriously disappeared as an adult. Hmph. 

• Watching the US Today show at midnight for no reason except it came on then and I had to stay up late because HOLIDAYS. Also; watching the odd mini series really late, such as North & South with Patrick Swayze in it. What can I say? It was the 80s. 
• Being totally bummed and peeved when it was time to head back to school at the beginning of the year, despite the fact that I'd just had six weeks off! This sensation has mysteriously disappeared as an adult and parent. Tee hee!

What about you? 

What are your school holiday memories?

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More Things I Know

I know that I'm sick of freezing my butt off.

 

I also know that when Summer finally rolls around I'll complain that I'm sick of sweating my butt off.

I know that I'm over the World Cup and soccer altogether.

I also know that this is unfortunate for me when I'm surrounded by soccer obsessed males.

I know that I was rather interested to hear that Mr 10 and 5 are both 'quiet achievers' at their parent/teacher interviews.

I know that they are both rarely quiet at home.

I know that I've been called a 'quiet achiever' many times.

However, I still don't know what I was supposed to be quietly achieving.

I know that I need to start packing for our brief road trip next week.
 
I know that I hate packing.

I know that as I type this ABBA's Knowing Me, Knowing You started playing in my head.

I know that this clearly confirms my sophisticated and cutting edge taste in music.

I know that I could spend the next 6 hours washing up, such is the state of my kitchen.

I know that I'd rather do almost anything BUT the afore-mentioned washing up.

I know that this is the only reason that you are being subjected to this rather scintillating post.

I know that it was a relief that the school holidays have started today.

Conversely, I also know that it was damn shame that there was no sleep-in forthcoming as we had to be at soccer early.

I know that as a result of the above I feel like I could sleep for the next decade. Instead I have to pack and prepare to go away to Port Macquarie on Monday.

I know it will be worth it when we get there.

I know that all I will want to do, once there, is read, sleep and eat.
Meanwhile, I know the boys will constantly whinge that they're bored.

I know that we haven't been to Port Macquarie for at least 10 years when Mr 12 was toddling around. Now he is about to become a teenager. Hold me.

I know that it's seriously time to log off the Internet when I'm taking a Which Little Miss Character are you? quiz. Related: apparently I am Little Miss Wise.

See, I knew I was a genius. Those quizzes are eerily accurate and sound, right?

I know that thinking I'm a genius because of a quiz probably proves the opposite. It just proves that I'll do anything to procrastinate. Little Miss Later, more like. As in: I'll get to that later.

Then again, does this prove that I am, indeed, wise? Because, as the saying goes: why do today what you can put off until tomorrow? Or something...

I know, I know, I'm just procrastinating. But you have to admit, I'm a genius at it. I know, right?

Okay, time to find one hundred more ways to procrastinate.

Maybe later.  Can you procrastinate at procrastinating? I know I probably can. There was no need to put the word probably in that sentence. Ahem.

Over and out.

Linking up with Ann at Help!! I'm Stuck! for Things I Know.

                            Are there any other ways to procrastinate?

                                   I really am a genius, aren't I?

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The Bogan And The Not So Beautiful Go To Budgewoi

Happy New Year, all you lovely people! Yes, I'm aware that it's currently February so I probably should have managed this salutation a tad earlier. Oops.

I've been missing from this space for a while. I'm not sure I can string a coherent sentence together. I seem to have lost my blojo. Meaning: blogging mojo. Possibly because I never even had one in the first place. Sigh. I just started to feel like I was boring myself with this thing so I came to the logical conclusion that if I was bored writing it, readers must be bored too and it was time to take a break. Plus, you know me. Always super busy eating all the cake doing all the things.

Meanwhile, certain things have been happening among some of our acquaintances and old friends which I won't go into because that is their stuff. Suffice to say that it all just reiterates the fact that life is short, life is a lottery and frankly, pretty fucking unfair at times so you had better do the things that make you happy. Therefore, if laughing at myself with this ridonkulous little blog and using words like ridonkulous which isn't even word makes me (or anyone else) giggle, then dammit, I'd better keep doing it. Those who are bored by my banal musings can easily click away. Or not click at all as the case may be.

We've been busy little bogans. Or not so little bogans, in my case. Nope, haven't managed to go cold turkey on the cakies. I am exercising, so that's something. Of course the exercise would be much more beneficial if I could quit the cakes but you get that.

Christmas was a subdued affair. We spent the day at home eating a whole lot of food. Because nobody ever does that and we like to be different. Cutting edge and all that.  The next day we went to my brother and sister-in-law's place and ate even more food. Might as well be consistent with certain things.

New Year's Eve and day seemed like just another day. Except it was suddenly another year. I had a lovely, child free (Grandma to the rescue!) lunch out with friends to celebrate mine and my friend Kim's birthdays before packing our bags for yet another bogan road trip. This time we headed to the Central Coast which is basically similar to Boganville but with a beach. We figured we may as well keep things classy.

During the hour long drive, the boys pondered over whether the NSW Central Coast town of Budgewoi is pronounced Budgie Woi or Budge Woi. Apparently the locals call it Budgie. The Woi is optional. It was good to see that the boys take after their mother, always wanting to know the answers to important questions.

Arriving at our cabin, I was already a lovely rosy hue of pink despite slathering myself with five hundred layers of 50 plus sunscreen and wearing long sleeves. This phenomenon continued for the duration of the stay if I so much as ventured outdoors for even a nano-second. If there was ever a person who could be sunburned indoors during a blizzard, I'm sure it would be me.

Nevertheless, I did bravely head to the beach. Once. Shut up. It's torture for us Rangas! I'm not so sure I love a sunburned country. Or being sunburned in this sunburned country, anyway.  You know what I mean. If you don't, then just pretend you do. We're good? Okay, to the next thing. I also celebrated my 43rd birthday while there, when Micky Blue Eyes and the boys presented me with an overwhelming gift. Wait for it:

A card.

They even signed it and everything.

Grounds for divorce?

That evening we sauntered down to the local pub which felt more like a sauna. Haven't the owners heard of air conditioning?

Once there, we ordered some burgers with chips and bangers and mash for Mr 9 (typical classy bogan fare) for which we clearly and politely requested that the gravy be served on the side. Not a particularly burdensome or difficult request. However, the dish arrived smothered in gravy which Mr 9 loathes but Mr 12 loves, hence ordering it 'on the side'. Consequently, Micky Blue Eyes took it back only to endure the disgruntled chef scowling and slamming things. I can only pray that  the resulting gravy free dish that reappeared didn't have something worse in it. Yikes. We scored some cakies at a bakery on the way back to make up for that lacklustre culinary experience. Besides, it was my birthday. Shut up.

The boys struck up a friendship with some other kids in the next cabin and enjoyed the park's movie nights replete with microwaved popcorn.

The real highlight of the trip came when we enjoyed lunch at Toukley RSL before hitting the local Vinnies and Salvo's stores. It's hard work being a Professional Bogan, people. You have to be seen in all the right places.

Some days later we were back in Boganville, where intense preparations began to have Mr 12 ready to start High School. We had to purchase an Ipad as they use those instead of text books and we didn't already own one. Maybe one of these days I'll also get an Iphone and finally catch up with 2014. Or at least 2007. Or something. Ahem.

Hair cuts were the next item on the agenda. Those completed, I took the boys home where Mr 12 kept scratching furiously. Finally, Micky Blue Eyes turned to me and uttered the dreaded 'N' word.

"Do you think he might have nits?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"It could be just dandruff," I replied hopefully.

Wrong.

An examination of his head proved otherwise. Up until this point we had managed 12 glorious nit-free years. On the plus side, at least this now clarifies or emphasises our bogan status. SO proud. Okay, not really...

We frantically treated all of our hair and washed all bed linen. This is not what you want just days before school returns!

Thankfully, the little buggers seem to have disappeared and Mr 12 made it to his first three days of High School. His verdict? Too easy. We shall see, dear. Especially once homework, assignments and essays start rolling in.  Also, he was super excited when he had a double period of PE on Thursday. This makes me rather concerned that he may not even really be my child at all. To say I was never excited about PE during High School could be the understatement of the century.

On Monday Mr 5 officially starts Kindergarten. I won't cry. No way. Not me. I might have something in my eye. Sniff. I should be celebrating. After all, doesn't this mean I will suddenly, magically have all this extra time on my hands to do important things?  Like update this blog more frequently!

BOOM! Be warned.

Stayed tuned for the next exciting episode of Days Of Our Bogan Lives....

What's been happening in your World?

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The Bogan Is Back!!

Hello everyone! I'M BACK!! How are we all? All my adoring fans. The whole two of you. I'm sure you've just been pining away waiting longingly for my words of wisdom. After all, who wouldn't?  Don't answer that. Ahem.

Anyway, I must confess that I've actually enjoyed having a bit of a bloggy break. I mean it is just so damn exhausting keeping up the standards that are necessary to be a Professional Bogan. Think about it. This means that I have to drag my sorry arse out of bed at 11am every single morning, or you know, just whenever I can be bothered, pull on my trackie dacks and ugg boots and then come up with these wonderfully witty and intensely riveting tales of our boring as batshit exciting and glamorous lives here in Boganville.

For instance, just this morning, I stumbled out of bed and bid farewell, bleary eyed,  to two out of three boys who set off to school, Micky Blue Eyes trailing behind them. Then I made myself porridge and positioned myself in front of the lap top where I proceeded to scroll down my Facebook news feed.

Fascinating stuff, right?

In addition to this, these last two weeks of my hiatus have been so action packed and absorbing that I simply do not know where to begin. Actually it was so exciting during the first week of the holidays that I can't even remember what happened. Yep, THAT exciting.

We did manage to get out for one of our ubiquitous Sunday drives. On a Sunday, strangely enough. Our destination was a nearby reserve or park type arrangement with picturesque gardens including a Japanese styled one. As soon as we disembarked from the car my head began to pound. Helpful.

 The boys sailed around merrily on their scooters while we meandered around behind them. Eventually though, my pounding head was too much to endure and we headed on to a nearby pub where we had lunch and I was able to have a much needed coffee and drugs. While there we decided it was indeed a very suitable and classy establishment in which to celebrate Mick's 50th birthday next month. There are pokies and everything. Noice.

The next day I did some grocery shopping, purchasing around 25 tonnes of food and spending around a billion bucks. Thereabouts*. This was all devoured within days.

On Wednesday Mr 11 became Mr 12, so I went to the tremendous effort of mixing up a packet cake for him. Caramel mud, to be precise. I certainly hope that child appreciates the sacrifices I make for him.  We then proceeded, clutching cake, to my parents house where the plan was to have pizza followed by the previously mentioned cake, with my brother and nephews also in attendance.

The only ploy to this plan was that I had apparently decided to have the Headache From Hell. AGAIN. Handy. This time no amount of coffee or drugs alleviated my pain. My head pounded steadfastly on. As it turned out, my Mum had also made her famous Apple Pie so the day could only be described as Headache Hell with an Apple Pie Heaven twist.

The next day we were scheduled to go the circus. I'm not sure why we would bother actually paying money for this when we can experience it at home. Mick is a clown, I'm the bearded lady and the boys are animals. Done. All we need is a trapeze. Just saying.

However, I was feeling somewhat wobbly and dizzy so I stayed home while Micky Blue Eyes took the boys and my mother-in-law in my place. Reportedly they had fun. Without me. How rude.

Then, after I started to feel a bit better I had another frightfully horrid wobbly, dizzy spell last Sunday, without ever even having a drop of alcohol. Smashing. What is with THAT? The no alcohol and the channelling Enid Blyton thing. Weird.

This has left me feeling rather despondent, dejected, gloomy, forlorn and any other sad adjective you can think of. I resisted the urge to consult a thesaurus there, you will be grateful to know. Suffice to say: Not. Happy. Jan. Hmph.

Then it occurred to me that a few days before these wobbly turns I was craving a good steak with a side of spinach. I NEVER crave spinach. I think my body is telling me to lay off the cakies and actually hit it with some nutrition including a bit of iron. Rude body. 

Therefore I am really in need of a good old Aussie Barbeque (you see how I did that, Loungers?)  with a steak the size of my head and lots of greenery on the side.  Weirdly enough, we just don't have enough barbecues. Disgraceful, if we are to call ourselves proud bogans.  Mick has some sort of paranoia about  gas ones, preferring the old fashioned wood ones. That all seems like too much effort for me to go to for a burnt sausage. Plus it is just too cold at this time of year.

I might have to make an exception though and get my barbeque on this weekend if possible. Why not? Bogans love burning things. We could even be really Klassy Bogans and throw a few pineapple rings on the barbie instead of shrimp. I have honestly never been to a barbecue where there have been 'shrimp' on the barbie, anyway. Plus, we call them prawns. Get it right, Hoges.

Until the next scintillating chapter, it's over and out from me.

*May be a slight exaggeration.

Linking up rather late (better late than never, right?) with Kirsty from My Home Truths for I Must Confess.

Also linking up with Robomum for The Lounge.

What exciting things have been happening in your world? Do you like a good old bogan BBQ?

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