Saturday, 18 January 2014

I'm an awful journal writer and blogger... perfect.

  I am terrible at keeping this updated. It reminds me of my journals. You know that saying "The pathway to hell is paved with good intentions"? That quote seems to be the standard of my life, flying as my colours in the breezy tropical winds of the Caribbean. I have plans that never eventuate. Lots of them. In fact, it'll be a small miracle you're reading this right now.

  During my childhood, for most years at Christmas or my birthday I'd be given a little notebook or journal to write in. According to our religion, record keeping in a journal was something you should get into the habit of. I suppose to immortalise your feelings, aspirations, successes and failings to reflect on. My failings are certainly recorded - my failing to keep a journal.

  They would all start out the same. Full of promises to keep a record and all the jazz. I think I managed to keep one for 3 months solid! Of course, I was about 8 at the time... It's been 15ish years since then so I guess my staying power declined considerably after that. They're riddled with grammatical errors and odd spelling mistakes, but they're cute.

  There is one journal that I must have received on my 13th birthday as it records my first year of high school...intermittently. Oh the ridiculous drawl. I have to say, my life wasn't dramatic at the time, and I am never one to make a big dramatic scene about who drank my chocolate milk, but you wouldn't know it reading my cliffhanger journal entries. It reads like a poorly written babysitters club novella, full of crushes, trivial issues and secrets  ...which I assume is what those books are about. To be honest, I've only read one of them and it happened to be the one about them getting their period or something which put me off them. Or maybe that was a different series. See, publishers? This is why publishing a squadron of books in the same genre with the same colour palette for the covers and the same target audience isn't great. Everyone identifies it with the better known book series

  Moving along... If I'd kept writing, the memoirs would have gotten much juicier but I guess I turned 14, headed into my depressive, everything sucks phase of my life of self-deprecation that likes to rear its ugly head into my adulthood every now and then, just to let me know it's still kicking.

  This is, of course, a new year and I wasn't foolish enough to make a resolution that I'd not be able to keep. Writing here regularly, though a reprieve and reflection of daily life, is probably too high a goal for me given my history in this field. So I'll just write whenever I want to, without apology or expectation this year. This is the year I make stuff happen in my time - and maybe I'll be a better blogger for it.

  So if you're along for the ride this year, don't expect too much. For this blog is less about regularity and more about....something else that ends with ~arity. I don't know. I'm not a poet.

The End

Still here? Fine... here's a picture of a baby sleeping

Sunday, 1 September 2013

Yay for a new first.

Today we had a new first - our boy lost his first tooth.

While I was sitting at the dining table the boy suddenly exclaims "I think my tooth just fell out." After establishing that it had, and asking him where it went (he threw it on the floor in panic), a brief explanation was made to make him feel less freaked out about teeth falling out. I think he's more reassured that it's normal and thanks to Peppa Pig, he knows what happens next; the tooth fairy will come along to pick it up.

It reminds me of when I was a child losing my teeth. I remember swallowing a couple because they frequently came out whilst I was eating. I think my parents would give me the benefit of the doubt there and the tooth fairy would give me pity money.

There was this other time where I wanted some extra money to spend at the dairy, so I found a piece of chalk that looked like a tooth (sort of) and put it in my tooth pixie in an effort to trick the tooth fairy. Needless to say it didn't work and I was a very confused little girl. I mean, that piece of chalk was virtually indistinguishable from a tooth - and that's when my belief in the tooth fairy diminished (I'm not even kidding). Apparently, if I can't outsmart something or someone, they mustn't be real. God, I was a really egotistical child. Jeez, my mother was right - I was selfish.

I have to be honest, I was anticipating at least another year before we lost our first tooth but I suppose I should be glad we've gotten over that hurdle.

Also, today is Father's Day, but the husband had to work today so Father's Day was yesterday for us. The kids drew a couple of things and I framed this for him too (which I seem to post everywhere. So apologies if you've seen this already). Just an adapted poem from Pinterest and a photo I took the other day.

Oh, and double also we went to the snow where the kids had their first snow encounter. They both loved it. Toboggans seem to be a real hit with the children with them being in fits of laughter all the way down the sled slopes. Seems to be a week of firsts just gone.

Now onto the promised (sappy) photo. Ciao.

Heh, it looks like he had a sun face and she doesn't want to look directly at it or risk losing the ability to see. Ah, sun-face McGee.

Saturday, 1 June 2013

Human anatomy according to a 4 year old

  So most people are aware that around 2-4 years is where crazy logic makes its grand entrance in children. Today the boy wanted to discuss how the body works, but to get a better understanding, I asked him what he thought went down when someone ate something (you know, because everything in the body is/can be utilized by just eating...), and it was obvious what he'd been taught at day care but not much depth into how it works. Let's read!

Me: So, what happens when you eat food? Where does it go?

Him: When you eat food it goes down into your feet and then the food goes on top [of previously eaten food] and you grow up and up. And when it gets to your tummy you just grow up there too.

Me: So what is your stomach for then?

Him: It just has two bits of blood.

Me: Oh...okay. So what does your heart do then?

Him: It beats!

Me: It beats, yes (finally, I'm thinking, he got something right), and what happens when it beats?

Him: It beats when food goes to it and then it goes down to your feet.

Me: Right, but what about your blood?

Him: Blood is under your bones.

Me: Oh right (I guess that is kind of right).

Him: And do you know where your bones come from?

Me: My bones? I don't know, where?

Him: It comes from your blood!

  About here is where we changed the subject, because the human body is an exhausting thing to explain to your idiotic mother who should know these things by now! He's obviously been told that food helps you grow and he's taken that literally and thinks that his body must be an empty vessel where food builds up and you grow upwards just to fit more in. He's also been told his heart beats but not why. Cute... I think I understand why education is the way forward now.

Tuesday, 7 May 2013

My anecdote for the day

**Warning. The following is a story I've been over-thinking all day. You may skip it now, read a different post or do this instead (click me!)**

 You know how you have those moments in your life where you inwardly cringe at yourself. Maybe you did or said something stupid? And you over think the situation. Then one day, when you least expect it and you have too much time to think you catch yourself cringing again at that stupid thing you did one day. I had one of those today.

   Before today I didn't think I was that socially awkward. I laughed at those people who said awkward, inappropriate things at completely the wrong time. I knew I could make people feel really uncomfortable and awkward - if I wanted to - but I mostly said the right things and could feign interest with seamless ease. Oh, how little I knew.

  Today we all went to Wellington so that the boys could go and watch Jurassic Park 3D and us girls could go shopping. We were walking down Courtney Place, after dropping off the boys, where I was walking behind some relatively slow walkers. You know the ones. I have to say they weren't really walking that slowly but I walk at executive I'm-important-so-hurry-it-up speed so it was slow for me. Anyway, I finally saw an opportunity to walk past these loony men talking animatedly to each other when I turn to see that it's Ben Hurley and Steve Wrigley I am inwardly cursing about (for foreign viewers they are New Zealand comedians. Look 'em up. They're hilarious. And hopefully forgiving of weirdos). Of course, I do a double take and they notice that I've recognised who they are.

  I think to myself "Quick, think of something witty and clever and relevant to say. Something that'll be mildly amusing." I say the first thing that comes to my head, it's not clever or witty. At all. I have to say something, though, or it'll make it awkward. Or at least more awkward because I'm taking so long to say anything.

  "Oh my god!" I say in a theatrical tone "You walk so slooowly." I instantly say shut up in my head. What the actual fuck? I could have said anything! Anything in the world. A normal person would have said "Oh my god, it's Ben and Steve. Can I take a picture?" (Probably what they were expecting) or "Wow, you're way more beard-ie than you appear on TV." but I have to talk about their pace. They become apologetic, with Ben saying he was just laxing out and both giving tentative laughs because they have no freaking idea who I am and I'm talking like where best friends or something.

  After a half apologetic (because I'm an idiot), half terrified smile from me, I bolt on out of the situation. I walk super-human executive pace. Dear god. Why me? Why couldn't I just pretend I didn't know who they were at all?

  And that is the story of how they probably think I'm some walking Nazi who regulate people's pace or something.

  After writing it out, it doesn't seem so bad, but I was mortified at the time. Worse, it was self-induced mortification. This is why I shouldn't go out in public. Or be around people. Ugh.

Monday, 6 May 2013

Can you tell I'm procrastinating?

  I've noticed that I actually have followers! People that look at my posts voluntarily! Wow, that's amazing. Thank you people for keeping up with my vague intermittent posts. As reward you get a real blog post, one with words and little to no pictures (really Chrome, "blog" isn't a word?).

  The girl started day care today so it's been very quiet having no-one here. Quite strange being able to hear myself think for a longer period of time and actually get stuff done (hey, I cleaned a room or two, don't push me!). I have an assignment due tomorrow that I haven't finished. BUT I've done research for it. See? I'm getting better at this university thing. Yay, wildcats!

  Haven't taken too many photos lately for no particular reason. I actually came here to write an anecdote that I've inexplicably forgotten! Don't you hate that? You wander into a room to do something, get distracted and then forget why you ended up there in the first place. I bet I'll wander on out again and remember. Actually, this happens to me several times in real a row. And it's not until what feels like the 50th time I've gone into the room that I remember what I was doing (normally something menial like fix a rug).

  On that note, I'll talk about something that wasn't the something I came here for but too long for twitter (which, for the record, is where most of my random anecdotes end up. You should check it out. It's...sometimes hilarious, mostly whiny. Hmm...maybe you shouldn't. Just pretend I'm a nice, non-whining person that is a nice wholesome home-maker who makes fifty cakes a day. Yeah.).

  So, my children exhibit what I like to call "the tunnel effect". Basically, if you make an arch of some sort with your body (say, you're standing with your legs hip-width apart whilst exercising, or you're sitting on the floor with your feet flat on the ground) my children will want to and eventually will crawl through the impromptu tunnel. Normally this isn't a problem.

  There was this one time I was doing stretches and my daughter was crying and she, instead of coming to be picked up, crawled through my legs instead. Another time, I was doing dinner or something and she saw me from the hall and crawled as fast as she could through my legs in case I decided to move.

  The thing is, it's not just the girl that does it, the boy will do it too. Though, it mostly occurs when the girl is around but even when very upset they'll both still crawl through the tunnel like it's in their kid contracts they signed at birth or something. Sometimes, if there isn't enough room for them, they will force their way through, even if it induces crying, just to make it through. No-one's happy at the end of that.

  I'm starting to wonder if it's a compulsion. Do all children do this? I imagine a lot of children like to do it but it seems like mine go to extreme lengths to make it happen. And it HAS to happen. (Don't mistake this for ACTUAL concern for their psyche, I'm sure it's quite normal. Or rather I hope it is, or it's just one of those strange things that they do as brother and sister. Kind of like how I like to make up operatic songs about their escapades. Which is TOTALLY NORMAL. Okay!?)

  Nope, still have no idea what that anecdote was. I'll probably remember again a few months down the track.

I forgot to post last last Sunday. Oops. Well, here it is!

  Argh! So, this past month has been hard for my boy and he's regressed back in toilet training. I am SO OVER this and kind of want to skip ahead a few years until it's all done. I hope the girl isn't this hard or I think I may well go mad (well, madder. This isn't doing wonders for my sanity, rest assured). He's just damn lucky that he is a relatively good boy or there'd be a perpetual storm cloud over my head.

  I also think that kids at day care are noticing and he is being teased about it - being called "Smelly" or "Yuck" by one kid in particular. Though, I may well be hearing exaggerated circumstances, I think I might have to talk to day care about it. While 4 year olds are very blunt and honest (most of the time), I still think that it should be reinforced that name calling is not okay. Think I may also ask about what is going on there because they are terrible at telling me anything about what happens there without lots of questions from me. Unfortunately, this day care is actually one of the best in the area (and it's still not great), so changing isn't really an option.

  Anyway, went on a random rage tangent there. Apologies for the lack of posting Sunday. I see loyalist hopeful for eye-wonders were left disappointed and I am sorry. The weather hasn't been terrific, so there isn't much on the camera reel today. Even so - onwards McDuff!

The husband always comments on how this looks like some random kid is
putting their hand on his face. In reality, he actually deliberately posed like
this. Maybe it has some emotive meaning to 4 year olds?

I think the boy put this on Yzzy, but it may have been the husband. We're a
Batman household so it's hard to tell. She liked to wear it so she could take
it off. She's like that with hats too. Strange child.
Because eating cheese scones is serious business. Very serious


The girl is shaking her head and it's hilarious. For both of them. The boy gets
caught up in the moment.

Because nothing says end of post like a sniffy-faced baby who's moved her

Wednesday, 10 April 2013

Yay! I'm back!

  I've taken an unscheduled sabbatical from this place to give me time to get my head in the right place. After a near breakdown around exam time (it was bad), I had a long hard think about what I want from my life and I've come out the other side now and have decided properly what I want to dedicate my life to doing **Warning! Impending life story. If you don't care skip ahead =)**.

  Before I had my children I wanted to become a doctor but after being pregnant at 17 I decided it wasn't in my future any more and it took me a few years to come to terms with that an accept it. I no longer feel bitter about having to let the dream go, and it took a while as I'd wanted to be a doctor (and eventually a forensic pathologist) since I was 12 years old!

  So, I blundered into business thinking that it'd be an okay thing to do. I like managing people and the process of delivering excellent service to people however, I've found I just wasn't passionate about it (it being the financial world). Not nearly as passionate as I was about medicine anyway. But now I have a dream and a vision for my future that is well attainable, I think, and I think with a lot of hard work I'll get to where I want to be.

  Now I am finally at peace with the world and I am well looking forward to a little break I plan on taking from study next semester.

  Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like if I didn't have my boy and DID become a doctor. I suspect I'd have decided not to have children as it would have interfered with my career. Crazy, I would have missed out on so much. Poor doctor me, wealthy but no-one to share it with.

  Anyway, that's not why you're here. You're here for photos. And if you're smart you'd have skipped all that up there for the pictures. A couple of things have happened since the last post. We have moved house (just down the road), my girl turned 1, I turned 22, summer ended, the clocks went back an hour, we went on our one and only trip to the beach. Fun stuff. Let's watch!

There was a kite flying event the day we just happen to *breeze* into the beach
(heh, heh, get it? I'm sorry). Anyway, this is, if you are an exceptional squinter,
a rather colourful pirate ship.

The beach from the bench we sat on in front of our car. It was quite cold that
day and we weren't brave (read: stupid) enough to go anywhere near the
water. (This is Otaki beach, by the way. In case you were wondering. You
probably weren't but that's okay. You are now a wiser person. Go you!)

Apparently our boy was brave enough, though. I guess he's going off to hunt
some seagulls with his stick there.

She suits the wind-swept look, don't you think?

Got her present opening face on. Bring on those toys. They shall not know
a greater unwrapping than this!

Daddy prepping her for her big day. It's like she has a valet. Lucky for some...
Also, she should consider a lady's maid as a valet isn't really for women. At all.

She loved the noisy part of this toy. She still does. I'm tempted to hide that
part of it often except it doesn't come off!

Having a tour around the back yard (safety assurance: we were RIGHT THERE
the whole time and close enough to catch her if she fell. We aren't idiots...when
it counts).
  So now you're all caught up. Good for you! Now you can read a book or have a chocolate fish. Speaking of which, Easter happened so I shall leave you with the lovely girl having her first ever chocolate egg.

Yum, chocolate. She first tried to eat it with the wrapper on which reminds me
of this time when my brother tried to eat those chocolate gold coins with the
wrapper on when he was like 4. Poor boy was so confused when we sympath-
etically laughed at him. Ah, weren't we kind to him?