The Nessville Saga So Far

Welcome to another marvellous Monday. The only day of the week when  you feel like a scotch before 9AM. Or is that just me?

Raychael over the Mystery Case  blog has started a Blog Exchange
 group. I thought this sounded like a great idea to help me out of my blogging rut. We are supposed to 'blog like no one is reading', which is quite apt in my case. No one is. Sigh. Or hardly anyone, really. She suggested writing about our blogging thoughts and experiences so far. 

So here goes:

I started blogging in March of 2012. It was an idea I'd toyed with off and on since I had started writing those God awful 'Christmas Letter Updates' to send out to friends and family. These are a chance to regale every one with all the wondrous achievements and awe-inspiring adventures you've been up to through the year. 

The only problem was, there was nothing particularly awe-inspiring or wondrous about my mediocre little life. So I did the only sensible thing and wrote them 'tongue-in-cheek' and definitely 'taking the piss'. They were a hit among my very polite friends. I considered starting a blog but dismissed it thinking I wouldn't have much to say and I certainly didn't want to bore any one. 

Then one day when I was in a completely weird, disjointed mood I decided I was over-thinking things and just did it. It seemed like it might be a fun hobby. Also, as a child and teenager I had been praised by teachers for my writing ability but I never really believed this or took it seriously. I figured having a blog was at least a way of attempting to get into a habit of doing some sort of regular writing. 

Of course I was absolutely clueless about the 'blogosphere'and had no idea that so-called 'Mummy blogs' were even a thing. Furthermore, that they are universally sneered at and considered to be the biggest pile of steaming excrement gracing the internet. So that was certainly handy to discover. 

Additionally, I had the thoroughly genius delusion that I was writing some sort of satirical parody of our life as 'bogans'. Yep, I was the classy bogan blogger. I began this space with the elegant title: Ness Of Boganville.

I figured this was a witty pun of the classic novel Tess Of The D'Urbervilles. Who wouldn't make the connection between bogans and classic literature? Makes perfect sense, right? Plus, while we're not exactly living in Struggle Street, I did grow up there and haven't ventured very far away as an adult. I like to stay classy.

Weirdly enough, it seemed that there were some folk (albeit only a minuscule amount) who found my bogan ramblings entertaining and amusing. Unfortunately, this didn't extend to Mickey Blue Eyes. For some reason he objects to being portrayed as a bogan. I can't imagine why. 

I attempted to explain to him that while many people only show the highlight reels of their (seemingly) bright, shiny, happy lives on social media, I wanted to show that my life isn't always perfect but at the same time I haven't lost my sense of humour about it. 


I plodded on with my musings. I discovered other blogs and link-ups and tentatively began participating in them. Notably, I Must Confess, which is hosted by Kirsty at My Home Truths
 every Monday. I've avoided some of the other link-ups such as I Blog On Tuesdays purely because it's all so time consuming. I could feel myself being sucked into a vortex of blog reading and commenting. I love it, but meanwhile the whole house could cave in around me and I wouldn't notice. Plus, I'm rather ad-hoc and erratic with it all these days. 

If you're just blogging as a hobby like I am, then you have to be rational and realistic about exactly how much time you want to spend on it. It's so much more time consuming than people realise, even as a hobby. So I couldn't even begin to imagine how much work, time and effort it would take to be a professional blogger. 

I really don't understand or know anything about that World. I've never attended a blogging conference and have no idea how to check my stats other than seeing the number of page views that blogger tells you when you log onto your dashboard. This is an abominably low and laughable number. It's my own fault, however. 



We do? *scratches head*

I don't blog often enough and I am absolutely abysmal at self-promotion. I have a Facebook page and I frequently forget about it. Oops.

There is a belief that blog content should be useful, so sometimes I feel like an eejit blathering on about nothing. But then I remind myself that there are a bajillion useful blogs out there and they all bore the bejesus out of me. There, I said it.

I've only ever spent about 20 minutes looking at The Organised Housewife blog (one of the most popular blogs in Oz) and I've never been so depressed in my life. If I'm surfing the web, it's because I'm procrastinating from doing the house work, not trying to find the most effective methods! But that's just me. Ahem.

It's just not my thing. Clearly I don't have a useful bone in my body and no amount of blog-reading (or writing) is going to change that. 

There is also a lot of talk about tribes and cliques within the blogging community. I think they do exist and it would be naive to think they don't. I tend to be the same as I am in person in the blogosphere. The quiet person in the corner. This is exactly the way I am in real life. So I guess I just fly under the radar for the most part.

Therefore I won't say anything pretentious like I've 'found my tribe'. What I will say is that I have found that the bloggers who've swung by here from time to time have been exceptionally kind and supportive and I'm grateful. I haven't experienced any nastiness or 'trolls'. It's easy to avoid them when you're under the radar and your main readers are your Mum and a handful of friends.

If there have been any people who were horrified with my word vomit at least they just clicked away without comment. I mean seriously, how hard is it?

Eventually I came to the conclusion that I am way too refined and dignified to be a bogan (shut up) and needed to lose the 'bogan' theme. I'm hopeless at coming up with titles. After agonising over this all-important issue, I decided to just quite literally take the bogan bit out of the title Ness Of Boganville and leave it as Nessville. Since I am always off in my own little World it seemed fitting. Plus, I can't help thinking that this form of title has worked out very well for two very prolific and high-profile bloggers Woogsworld and Edenland. 

OK, so Nessville hasn't exactly caught on in quite the same way, but, you know- details. 

I can't really figure myself out. I have this weird dichotomy where on the one hand I really do not desire to be famous, (not that there is even remotely a chance of this happening), but at the same time I guess you don't want to be completely ignored or you might as well take your writing completely offline and go scribble in a notebook. And I do that as well from time to time. 

I really am an incredibly shy, introverted and private person. It seems incongruous to share my life on a blog. There are certain things that are sacrosanct.  Things that I would never share, ever. I'm also finding that as my boys get older they have absolutely no desire to be featured in these annals. And I shall respect their wishes. Of course I'll mention them, but I will draw a line where I stop. I did not start this space to upset them or anyone in my family. It's all very well to have fun and be tongue-in-cheek but I have to be mindful of not taking it too far because they may not find it amusing the way I do. 

So that's me bumbling along in my own little World, unsure of where I fit into this thing called the 'blogosphere'. I have this space for a fun hobby, an outlet and a way of expressing myself. I express myself much better with writing than talking. In person I rarely talk. 

For some years I have managed to convince myself that I'm not really passionate about writing. Otherwise, I reasoned, I would make time for it. The theory is that we make time for the things we love. I often don't make time for it or prioritise it in my life. 

However, I read the book The Happiness Trap by Russ Harris and this changed my way of thinking. 

It's hard to sum up the book in a sentence but the basic nitty-gritty of it revolves around connecting to your true values. Towards the end of the book the author explains:

And if this goal really IS something you value, then you are faced with a choice: either act in accordance with what you value or let yourself be pushed around by your own thoughts. 
In particular, you need to watch out for this sneaky thought: 'If this were really so important to me, I'd be doing it already!' This thought is just another reason in disguise. The reasoning goes something like this: 'I haven't taken action up to now, which means it can't really be that important, which means it's not a true value of mine, which means there's no point in putting any effort into it.'
This reasoning is based on the false assumption that humans will NATURALLY act in line with their values. But if this were true, there would be no need for a book like this or a therapy such as ACT.  The fact is, many of us DON'T act on our values for long periods of time: months, years or even decades. But those values are always deep inside us, no matter how remote from them we are. A value is like your body: even if you've totally neglected it for years it's still there, it's still an essential part of your life, and it's never too late to connect with it. 

MIND. OFFICIALLY. BLOWN.  

I want to make writing a priority in my life. It may only be a hobby, but it has the same effect on me as exercise. I never wake up in the morning and have this burning and over-whelming desire to HAVE to do it. However, if I force myself to begin after a while I start to think 'This isn't so bad, I actually like this!' A while longer and I'm in a zone where I can forget the World. Suddenly I've gone from having to force myself to start to having to force myself to stop! And I feel better when I'm finished. 

Sometimes I'm embarrassed about sharing these posts. I know I'm not the most poetic, eloquent writer. My grammar is all over the place. But then I remind myself that considering who I am and my own experiences in life and my level of education, I'm not too bad. 

I mean, I failed high school English, have never been to University and have spent the last 14 years being a stay at home mother. Additionally, I have Aspergers (officially diagnosed) and ADD (self-diagnosed -but I believe, accurately so). 

I can't really compare myself to other bloggers who may be professional writers or come from a journalistic background. I'll just keep on with what I'm doing. I think of these posts as me writing a letter to friends. That's the only way I know how to write here at the moment. Hopefully I'll push myself out of my comfort zone somewhere along the way. 

Thanks for reading this rather long ramble. See you around the blogosphere!

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What are your thoughts about blogging?

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Quiet Person, Loud Mind

Hello strangers. I haven't been blogging very much lately. I must confess I do miss it quite a bit.

I guess it's a combination of things keeping me away from this space these days.  For starters I've been quite busy actually leaving the house and doing other things for once. This has to be a good thing, right?

Additionally, I don't always have access to a working lap-top. For some reason our lap-tops and internet connection are dodgy. The other reason that I have to confess is just having a case of the 'blog blahs'. I feel like I'm boring myself with the inane nonsense I write, so I must be boring every one else. Sigh.

I feel like I should probably do something different with this blog at this point, but then I don't know what that something different is. After all, I've been blogging (erratically) for over three years.

I don't really know why but for some reason I am always some 20 years behind other people my age when it comes to confidence or something. I mean, it took me until I was 41 to even consider putting anything whatsoever that I wrote out there via this blog however good, bad or indifferent it was or is. So perhaps if I live until I'm 80 I should be ready to push it to another level.

I read other blogs and articles giving people advice and opinions regarding parenting or Asperger's Syndrome but somehow I never see myself that way despite being a mother of three with an adult diagnonsense of Assburgers. (You see how I never take anything seriously..)  Who am I to give anyone advice when I'm just another person stumbling along making things up as I go?

Disclaimer: This week I am living in raging PMS Land, so I'm all sooky la la and navel gazing and morose and moody. As opposed to all the other times when I'm upbeat and chirpy and optimistic. Shut up.

This popped up in my Facebook feed today:

Image source: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/…/6632d79db6f1304a8195…

It's quite true. There is a lot of chatter in my head at the moment. Unfortunately it just seems to be nonsense chatter, so I do apologise for this post sounding scrambled and confused. As opposed to all my previous ones which were focused and insightful and purposeful. Coughs.

As I mentioned, I've been busy doing things. Principally I am about to finish my TAFE course. This is a Certificate 1 in Access To Work And Training. Now I'm pondering my next move. My first thought was that I might be able to do some further TAFE units in Library Practice. This is the diploma I obtained some decades time ago. I figured it might be a tad redundant by now, so I might be able to update or refresh my qualifications.

The only problem is that TAFE courses now cost an arm, two legs, a liver and a kidney. As well as an additional twelve billionty dollars and at least one of your children to be sacrificed with a gruesome bludgeoning. If you haven't got children they will take your bullocks or girly bits and bludgeon those instead because they figure you don't need them.

OK, I'm exaggerating slightly. But they are frightfully expensive. I spoke  to the dude who is the head teacher of the Library Practice course today and he's advised me that it may cost me at least four grand. Yikes.

Anyway, there is an information session next week which I will attend and see what they say. However, I'm starting to think it won't be an option if it's going to cost a fortune and take forever. I'm already quite ancient mature.

I think I may decide to do some volunteer work and then perhaps send my resume off to good old Library Locums and see what happens. Hopefully they will just ignore the vast, echoing, prolonged, empty and gargantuan gap in my resume. It's only 15 years since I've worked. That's nothing, right? 

Meanwhile, Mickey Blue Eyes has assured me that I don't need to worry about working from a money perspective because he's right on track with his Becoming A Millionaire plan even it's more than a decade behind schedule. But, as I like to say - details.

Therefore if I'm going to study I might be better off doing a writing course or a blogging course but I don't know which one. I mean, what courses are there for somebody who is already clearly a writerly/blogging genius? Suggestions please, bloggy friends!

In other news, Mr 11 is currently in Canberra on a school excursion. He'll be back tonight. Mr 13 is becoming Mr 14 next month and Mr 6 is his usual cheeky self.  He says so many funny things all the time, but now that I'm trying to remember them I can't. Weird.

I have their parent/teacher interviews coming up next week, so that will be interesting. Every time I go to these I feel like I'm a naughty child who is being sent to the principal's office or something. Is that just me? This is particularly strange since I was never a naughty or rebellious child and don't remember ever being sent to the principal's office when I was at school. Neurotic much?

In other news apparently half the year has vanished already. This means that the count down to Christmas will begin. Please DO NOT remind me of how many days there are to go. It will be all over my Facebook feed all too soon. Sigh.

The school holidays are also coming and we have NOTHING PLANNED. YAY!

We did consider going away but the boys were OUTRAGED by this suggestion. Clearly you can't fight genetics. The introverted/homebody gene is a strong one around here. Winning!


There is a trip to Wagga Wagga planned for September. Yes, we always stay classy. Besides, we have extended family there whom we will be visiting so it's all good. Can't wait! Except I sort of can. Because if it was already September, then there would be even less time until Christmas. I can't even.... Head hurts.

Oh well, I suppose I had better go and do some exercise and tick some more stuff off my To-Do list. So far I have ticked an amazing ONE thing off the list. Oh dear. Plus, it appears I should have added to the list: Do not lose To-Do list.

Um, where is my To-Do List? OK, I'm off to find it....

Until next time,

Hugs and cakie things,

Ness

PS: It turns out that I was sitting on the To-Do List. Oops.

Linking up (late, as usual) for I Must Confess.

Do you have a loud mind? What's going on in your head?

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Diets Be Damned

Well another Monday rolled around, funnily enough right after Sunday. Don't you just hate when that happens?  At least it's the start of another week. Another beginning... Another diet...

No wonder it's the most universally loathed day of the week! Anyway, let's talk diets. They suck. The end. 

That was a quick conversation! The truth is, I'm currently a Weight Witches member. The weird thing is that apparently you can't just twitch your nose and be instantly lighter and thinner! How rude! 

I'm trying to do that delusional thing where I convince myself that it's a lifestyle change and not a diet. I really LOVE salad, not cakies and chocolate and ALL THE CARBS. 

Which reminds me, I just had a big bowl of pasta and a small bowl of salad for dinner. It should have been the other way around. Oops. 

I've never been on any other diets. It was just pure luck, but when I was young I didn't have a weight problem. As a teen I was slender despite my Mars Bar addiction and sport aversion. 

In my 20's I did gain a little and was COMPLETELY HORRIFIED. But now I look back and realise that this was a waste of energy because I looked FINE.  It wasn't until my late 30's, after having Mr 6 that my metabolism apparently decided to go on a permanent holiday. Nice one. I guess I won't be needing it any more. Except I do. Desperately. 

Previously I had been able to pretty much eat whatever I like and as long as I exercised I stayed at a reasonable weight. Not any more. Those days are over. It's extremely tragic. Not really. I'm just like every other middle aged person. I'm not exactly sure why the human body didn't evolve so that weight was like height. You should get to the perfect number where you look and feel your healthiest and it should stay that way! 

Even though I've lost a bit of weight recently with this Weight Witches palaver I still have the usual issues with food. I eat for every other reason than being hungry. I eat when I'm sad, stressed, bored, just because it's there and just because I'm a pig and it tastes good, OKAY?? I have good and bad weeks days. 

I can't do extreme diets. Any diet that involves eliminating a certain food or food group entirely be it sugar, carbs, meat, dairy, CAKE (especially cake!), is not for me. I refuse to label certain foods as 'good' or 'bad'. 

Similarly, diets involving shakes, juice cleansing or soups - forget it. Knowing me, I will just drink the shake then think 'wait a minute, where is the REAL food? That was a drink, NOT food!' I need something to munch on. Shut up. 

I'm not immune to all the same issues as every other women. I dislike certain parts of my body, avoid mirrors as much as possible and have never worn a bikini in my entire life. I just don't have the confidence. But I still refuse to be a slave to diets.

After all, we all know that diets don't work. If they did it wouldn't be a multi-billion gazillion dollar industry. Sorry, I don't know the exact figure and I'm too lazy to Google it. Again, shut up.

Despite there being some so-called 'revolutionary' new diet plan every other day or week we all know that there is nothing revolutionary about it. It always comes down to the old 'eat less, move more' thing. That's it. So that's what I've done. The fact that the eat less part involves eating less cake and chocolate is something I find rather unfortunate. Suddenly I hear weepy violin music. 

And on that note I will end it here and go and have dessert. Of course I can have dessert! As long as it's fruit. Hmmm, I do have a slice of sticky date pudding in the fridge and dates are fruit, aren't they??

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Linking up (late) for I Must Confess. 

What do you think about diets? Have you been on any crazy ones? 

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Travel Fails

Today I am back to entertain you with some tails of my travel fails. As you can see I am still the consummate poet.  What can I say? It's a gift.
  


Sadly, this is a topic I am all too familiar with. Our travel experiences would most certainly fall into the fail category. Basically we have failed to travel to any glamorous destination. Instead we are more likely to end up in a rather exotic location -  like Dubbo.
 
Incidentally, if you typed tripadvisor Dubbo into your Google search engine I wonder what it would advise you?  Don't bother?  Stay home because your life sucks? Perhaps they should have that mocking voice that's on Stick Run on Facebook that declares "YOU'VE FAILED!!"  in a tone dripping with derision. Look I have nothing against Dubbo. It's a fine place. In fact I've discovered that there is a drive-through bakery there and multiple book shops, so it's practically my dream holiday destination now.


Anyway, enough about that. Back to my travel tails. When I was a mere lass of only 10 I went on my first and last overseas jaunt to Holland with my parents and brother. I'm not sure if 'jaunt' is the correct expression but it sounds cute so I'll go with it.  The month long stay with our family friends went smoothly and was most enjoyable. I do have some vintage footage on a DVD somewhere of me as a ten-year-old Ness with long red hair merrily skipping through the tulips, but I have no idea how to upload it here so you'll have to imagine  it.

The fail part came when we arrived at the airport, homeward bound. For some reason my parents mistakenly thought we had loads of time before departure. We were strolling around the airport when our names were called over the loudspeaker.  Cue the frantic sprint to the departure gate, arms and carry-on luggage akimbo. Sheepishly we boarded the plane amid the dagger-like stares of our fellow passengers whom we'd kept waiting.


Another time my parents rented an apartment at Nelson Bay in NSW for a week. The brochures forgot to mention we would be  sharing it with an army of cockroaches. There was also the delightful bonus of mattresses that reeked of urine. We only lasted one night before heading home.


Thus ended my travel adventures for many years. Enter Mickey Blue Eyes. From the minute we met it was evident that we were not only destined to be together, but to become a dynamic, jet-setting power couple. Forget Brangelina. Think Micess. Nessick? Um. I might have to think about that...


The point is, we embarked on many holidays including our honeymoon in Tasmania where we nearly drowned on a cruise through Hell's Gate. Now I know why they call it that. Another memorable trip involved watching the four walls of a motel room in Cairns for a day or two while a cyclone raged away outside.


Our holidays post children often seem to be road trips. One or more of the boys will inevitably end up puking in the car. This is always fun. Said no one ever.


On one trip to the Gold Coast we were visiting Sea World. As I peered into the humungous shark tank I leaned over to get a better look and my mobile phone slipped out of  my handbag and fell in with a splash.  Mick and the boys wandered down to underground viewing area. People were muttering in disgust about a phone being in there. Mr 13 (who was only 8 or so at the time) exclaimed "That's my Mum's!" We left, cheeks blazing. Classy. For the record, I did notify a staff member of what had happened but he seemed to have a 'why the f**k are you telling me?' expression. It's not like I expected him to dive in and retrieve it for me!


I fear we have another travel fail on the horizon. We talk about going away during the July school holidays but we still haven't done anything about it. Meanwhile, I've also begun the arduous process of applying for passports. I got to the point where we need to provide photos and referees and promptly forgot about it. Oops. Yep, I'd call that a travel fail of epic proportions. Well, it's not so much a travel fail as it is failing to travel AT ALL.


I've never actually managed to catch the travel bug the way some people do, so I'm relatively resolved to the fact that we may never have an epic overseas trip. But I guess you never know. It might still happen. In the meantime I can just watch half the people on my Facebook feed who all appear to be overseas at the moment.


And there is always that drive-through bakery in Dubbo awaiting me. How could  that be a failure? 


Linking up for I Must Confess.


What do your consider to be your travel fails?

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Me Again

I'm just checking in here again. It's been a while. However, after reading my last post I definitely sounded a tad unhinged, so it was probably a good thing that I stepped away from the internet/keyboard for a while. Awkward. 

Besides, I have absolutely nothing at all to say. Not a thing. Much like in real life. At least I'm consistent with some things.

Um, what can I say? Oh yeah. Comfort zones. I've actually been busy doing stuff away from the internet lately. Plus, I don't really have a laptop anymore and it's impossible for me to blog with a phone. That's why I've been missing in action from here. Anyway, nobody really noticed. Sniff.

Yes, I've been well and truly out of my comfort zone of late. First of all, I started going to a writing group. In this group I have to read what I write out loud. That is well and truly out of my comfort zone. Fortunately, everybody is very supportive in the group.

Second of all, I'm also doing a Tafe course two days a week. This means actually leaving the house and being around those scary things called people. I don't know what it is going to eventuate from this. I think about the possibly of getting a job and feel physically ill. Not because I'm not keen to work. I am. It's just because of the dreaded old job interview thing.

I've probably mentioned this before (about three paragraphs ago and in every other post), but I'm not really very good at talking. It seems that they actually expect you to say something during interviews. So weird. Also, I can't make eye contact. I expect this is in part because of shyness, but also because I have Asparagus Syndrome.  If you don't make eye contact during interviews people think you're hiding something or are a serial killer waiting to happen. Or something. So, we'll see. Watch this space.

Meanwhile, Mickey Blue Eyes has taken the boys to the movies so I'm enjoying some quiet time and lap top time. The school holidays whizzed by despite having nothing planned. We did visit with relatives and caught up with friends, which is good enough for me. I'm one of those bizarre individuals who likes to stay home. The feeling of waking up in the morning and having NOTHING planned is pure bliss for me. Yep, I'm boring.

It occurred to me yesterday that being such a homebody while simultaneously being a such spectacularly shite housekeeper is another one of those strange but fascinating contradictions about me.

The weather around here has been batshit crazy lately.  Is it batshit or bat shit? One word or two? Not sure. I must admit I do love a rainy day occasionally but this is ridiculous. Yesterday Mickey Blue Eyes left with the boys to go to a Wanderers game. Not long after he left it started pelting down. I dashed outside to bring the washing in. As soon as I opened the back door Cookie (our dog) bolted inside, beside herself. I only just made it back inside with the washing before it began hailing.

I sat in my rocking chair near the front window with Cookie in my lap watching the hail. This is not very interesting, but I can't make stuff up. I'm not Belle Gibson. Thankfully. Silly woman.

After the hail storm abated, I booted Cookie back outside (yep, I'm mean) and decided to do aerobics. By this stage I'd chugged down a rather large scotch and coke. To my surprise I discovered that tipsy aerobics is fun! And yes, I can get tipsy on only one drink.

I'm as fit and agile as Denise freaking Austin when I'm tipsy! Bring on those grapevines!

I had just gotten to the cool down when Mick and the boys burst back in the front door sodden and sullen. They'd abandoned the game after it was delayed in the wet weather. Mercifully, they had managed to miss the worst of the hail, so there was no damage on our car.

Yesterday morning I woke up with a headache and sore throat. The boys have been rather thoughtfully sharing their Man Colds. In other riveting news, I was supposed to go to the dentist this morning but I still have a sore throat and a Little Man who deserves an Oscar. He's home from school after complaining of a stomach ache, but seems perfectly fine now. You'd think that almost 14 years into this parenting thing I wouldn't fall for these shenanigans. Sigh.

On a final note, this turned up in my Facebook and I thought I would leave you with it because we could all do with some motivation on a Monday. Especially those of us who are massive introverts and would rather stay in bed under the covers.

Have a great week!

Linking up for I Must Confess.

When was the last time you were out of your comfort zone?

Batshit or bat shit?

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Micro Confessions Of A Cry Baby

Welcome to another glorious Monday, the most dreaded day of the week! I have a few little things to get off my chest. The first one is this:

I hate everyone and everything in the whole World EVER. Thank you, PMS. No, FUCK you, PMS! When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Yes, even myself. ESPECIALLY myself!

Why? Because I'm a big cry baby sook who's too scared to go to the dentist. On Thursday, one of my bottom teeth broke. I have to go and have it fixed this morning. I'm dreading it. As you are reading this I'm probably trapped in that descending chair, the ominous sound of the drill reverberating through my skull. SAVE ME!

Or slap me in the face and tell me to get on with it like a grown up!

I just arrived home from wandering around the shops with Mr 11 for a few hours. While there, I spotted Michelle Bridges signing books. I felt like punching her, but have you seen the biceps on that woman? Look, I have nothing against Michelle Bridges, really. I even have one of her books and a couple of her DVDs. I just feel like punching everyone lately.

On Monday week Mickey Blue Eyes has to have another knee operation. For those of you who don't know, he injured his knee playing soccer some months ago. Surgery was required to place some sort of wire inside to get it moving again. Then came months of physiotherapy.  Now he has to have the wire taken back out. Fun times.

Additionally, school holidays commence in this same week. So I'll have Mick hobbling around and the kids home from school. AWESOME. Yes, I'm a horrific bitch from PMS Hell at the moment. Deal with it.

I'm also suffering from THIS:

Image from http://imgfave.com/view/5643666?c=64318

In fact, this seems to be the story of my life. Can you hear the weepy violin music?

Don't you just hate people who whinge and complain about stuff in their life but never seem to do anything about it? Seriously. I mean, why haven't I just COME OUT OF MY SHELL by now?

I just keep on whinging and whining about wanting alone time but I haven't actually plotted to murder my family as yet. What am I like?

WHAT a whinger. How hard could it be? I could just poison them or something. Surprisingly, my cooking has failed to do so thus far. I mean, it's the quiet ones you've gotta watch, right?

I've never quite understood that expression. Watch doing what exactly? Reading a book? Scrolling through Facebook. Sure, watch me if you want, but it won't be very interesting. Unlike this blog, which is RIVETING. Plus, it might a little creepy. Watching quiet people, that is. We're just being our silent little selves, minding our own business, not saying a word; while you're rudely staring. Who's the weird one now?? Just saying.

Interestingly, when I Googled Little Miss Quiet I discovered that she doesn't exist. There is only a MR Quiet. Meanwhile, there is a Little Miss Chatterbox, Little Miss Sunshine, Little Miss Fun and a Little Miss Giggles.Where is Little Miss Premenstrual And Moody?

A funny thing happened yesterday when I was at my Tafe course. I realised I was stuck to the chair. It transpired that I had chewing gum stuck on my pants. Thankfully it was the same colour as my pants. You have to be grateful for the little things.

I'm just trying to think of as much crap as possible to distract myself from thinking about my visit to the dentist. It sort of works a bit.

My mind will go:

Butterflies. Rainbows. DENTIST!

Cake. Carpenters. DENTIST!

Puppies. Chocolate. DENTIST!

Books. Unicorns. DENTIST!

Flowers. Sunshine. DENTIST! DENTIST! DENTIST!

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

That's the sound of my Anxiety Monsters laughing their evil, mocking laugh at me.

The stupid thing is, I was never scared of the dentist when I was younger. I had several teeth yanked out before I had braces. I had it done awake in the chair without sedation. What happened to that girl? Why I am a such a head case in middle age? Furthermore, why am boring you with my whining? Because I can, I presume. So ner.

I've decided that I'm definitely coming back as a man. I'm over all the moods and pain. I simply can't wait for the cluster fuck that will be menopause. Coming soon to a psychotic bitch near you.

In other news, I spent the afternoon going over Mr 13's homework and assessments with him earlier. Amongst all his paperwork he had a sheet listing medieval crimes and punishment. Punishments included: The Rack,Water Torture, Rat Torture, Foot Roasting and Burning at the Stake.

These seemed like quite reasonable punishments to me in my pleasantly premenstrual state.

Oh well, that's my cheery little existence at the moment. Upon reflection I'm thinking that I have such an intense dental phobia that I'm considering exposure therapy instead of just turning up for the appointment. But they might think that I'm some crazy person who likes lurking around the dentist waiting rooms while attempting to get used to the idea and the smell and the noise...... Gulps. Thoughts? Suggestions?

Don't you just love my rambling posts? What else can I confess?

Oh, I've lost around 8 kilos so far on Weight Witches.Which isn't much really, considering I've been going for several months. However, I decided at the beginning that I'm happy with losing a small amount of weight and keeping it off long term, rather than a huge amount of weight which I just end up putting back on, plus extra. Because, let's face it, I'll never be a skinny bitch. I love cake too much.

And with that, I can't think of a suitable ending to this clunky post, so I'll just back out of blogger awkwardly the same way I back out of rooms awkwardly. I'm awkward as fuck in person, so I may as well be authentic online as well. Cheers.
 

Linking up for I Must Confess.



How is Monday treating you?


PS: After getting all worked up in anticipation for my visit to the dentist they have rescheduled my appointment for Wednesday. I'm not sure if this is a reprieve or a further 48 hours of fretting. Sigh.

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Parenting Fail

WARNING: This post is a bit on the gross side so if you're eating or easily grossed out, don't read any further! You've been warned!

 

Today I am meant to be confessing to any parenting fails. The only problem is that obviously I am the most likely candidate for Mother Of The Decade! I don't have any! OK, I made that up.

The truth is, it's a bit of a sensitive topic for me. I think I'm a terrible mother because I'm scatty and disorganised. However, my boys seem to genuinely love me. Additionally, they are all healthy and going well at school. So I guess I'm doing something right.

There is one funny anecdote which happened many years ago when Mr 13 was Mr 3 and Mr 11 was a newborn, so let's call him Baby. Yep, I'm very original with names and aliases.

One day we decided to go out for a picnic at Mt.Tomah Botanical Gardens.  I don't know what we were thinking. We must have been feeling extremely optimistic on that day. Otherwise, we were just delirious with sleep deprivation. If this wasn't foolish enough, we also decided that it would be a brilliant idea to invite our friends, Kim and Ziggy, to come with us.

It all started out looking promising. We arrived at this picturesque location and strolled around happily. Eventually we found a spot to have our picnic. At this point, Baby began shrieking incessantly. Meanwhile, a rather over-powering stench began emanating from the direction of Mr 3. It was all quite mortifying for us, while our friends kept smiling politely as if nothing was amiss.

Except it was impossible to ignore the smell. No problem, we'll just change him and clean him up, we thought. The trouble was, we soon realised that although we had packed a baby bag with everything except the kitchen sink for Baby, we had left Mr 3's backpack at home. We did have some wipes but not his nappies or a change of clothes.

Somehow, Mickey Blue Eyes took Mr 3 to a discreet location and cleaned him up as best he could. Except this was one of those horrific poo explosions. Something that only a bath and then another bath and then another bath could clean. He had no choice but to put the same trousers back on him. Not surprisingly, he still reeked.

This didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He chattered on merrily, excited about the picnic. At the same time, Baby had kept up his cacophonous screeching. I fed him, but he still wailed and voiced his disapproval of being dragged out for the day.

Mr 3, oblivious to his rancid, toxic odour spotted another family having a picnic and figured he'd join them. I think he just wanted to make friends with the other kids. Within minutes, the family disappeared, probably unable to consume their food.

I guess it was one way to ensure that we had the entire gardens all to ourselves for the day.  Needless to say, it wasn't exactly a relaxing picnic and we ended it as soon as possible.

From that day forward whenever our boys had one of those utterly disgusting poo explosions they were referred to as a 'Mt.Tomah'.




And that, my friends, is what I would call an epic parenting fail. Bows to applause. But it's all good, because I've been a perfect parent ever since. And slightly delusional, but we won't mention that.

SHHHHHHHHH!!!

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What is your most epic fail?

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