Out in the garden..

Wandering around the garden, minding it’s own business, was a little, black, slater. This little slater happened to have the most terrifying adventure today. Because it just so happened to live in a munchkins back yard. And today, the big and scary munchkin was playing in the grass while her mummy hung out the washing.
The little black slater was curious, it had never seen a munchkin before. Certainly not this close.
In fact, much too close. The munchkin was so big and quite frightening.
The little black slater started to make his retreat, but it was too late, the munchkin had spotted him. She reached down and with her clumsy fingers, tried to pick up the little black slater.
But slaters can roll themselves up into little balls, which make it tricky for fumbling fingers to pick up.
The slater was terrified. Would he ever see his little slater family again? He could never make amends with his brother. Never tell that cute slater about his crush.
The munchkin kept trying to pick up the little black ball of a slater, getting more intrigued the harder he became to catch.
Finally, the munchkin managed to pick him up in-between her thumb and index finger, she had succeeded. Her reward would be to taste this strange, little, ball-like item.
The slater prayed to his little slater god, then he bade farewell to the world.
When an even taller creature stepped in and took the little slater out of the munchkins hands just before it was crushed between her four little teeth.
The munchkin protested at her mummy, but it was too late. The mummy had taken the little black ball of a slater and put it back in the garden, out of reach.
Thus the little black slater was saved, and he went along with the rest of his day, learning to never get too close to a munchkin again.

The things you’re missing…

Dear Nana,

Scarlett started walking last night. Shaye and I sat on the floor with her and helped her a little, but there was quite a few steps taken where she didn’t need any help balancing while she did so. Her record was three steps in a row before she lunged in for a cuddle. It was amazing.
I see your face in hers sometimes. The way she sets her mouth reminds me of you.
When she’s sitting quietly, you can see the cogs ticking in her head as she’s trying to figure out how she can get into mischief.
I wonder if she’ll get your temper, you were so polite and sweet, until your footy team was losing. My, but you could shame a sailor!
I wish you both had met more than the once, that you could have held her just for a moment. That I could have gotten a picture of the two of you. But you were so broken and could barely move, let alone hold a 7 week old baby.
We could all see you were in so much pain. We knew you were done.
I remember so many times, and I’m glad for the time we did get.
I just wish my daughter could have known you.
I’ll always love you Nana. Happy birthday…

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Two little blue lines..

“I can’t be pregnant” I thought, as I stared at those two little blue lines that practically jumped off the pee stick to slap me in the face.
But there it was. The truth I had internally been denying for a few weeks. Little did I know at the time, I was 13 weeks along. I had missed the entire first trimester!
I also wrongly assumed that every woman went through morning sickness. If I wasn’t throwing up, it must be something else. Right?
Wrong. Word to the wise, don’t watch pregnancy movies, they’re all a crock of French words!

I had tried for over 5 years with my ex fiancé, and never even a hint, not once.
It really wasn’t a great time if I had to be honest. I was living with my parents again, I had only just started seeing this really great guy, (who we now call Daddy) and I had plans to travel abroad after the summer rush at work. I had never travelled anywhere more then an hour from my home-town before, so I was really looking forward to it.

It wasn’t all bleak. After all, I did want kids. I just didn’t think it was very likely. I had kinda given up on the idea of them, I would tell myself that it wasn’t for me.

Two, little blue lines…

I spent the rest of the day freaking out on the inside, waiting to talk to my boyfriend, telling myself that I’d be just fine if he walked away. Surprisingly, he had already guessed. “Babies are never a bad thing, my dear” he told me. And he was right. The bugger usually is. I hate that!

Then there was all the ‘joys’ of pregnancy, no alcohol, limited caffeine, no soft cheeses (cue the Triple Cream Brie craving), I also had to quit smoking. Which I was successful in. Around a week after I found out, I had finished the last pack I owned, and didn’t buy another. Man, that sucked! Almost as much as cutting back on coffee. which was harder, as barista was one of my job titles. And boy, did I love whipping myself up a quick macchiato at a moments notice.

And when I went in for what i thought was my 12 week scan, they told me I was measuring 5 weeks ahead. My mind flashed to this giant baby tearing it’s way out my vagina, after all, her daddy was over 6ft while I barely grazed 5ft.

Two little blue lines…

I kept working until I got too fat to reach over the bar. Afterwards, there was the mad rush to find a new place to live. I spent almost every waking hour, trawling the real estate apps from my phone, hunting down anything suitable, even half suitable. Hell, a roof and a bucket would have sufficed.

It wasn’t the easiest job, after all, one wage down, no rental reference’s between us for years, me waddling around at the viewings with my mother in tow, I even looked at a place with stairs! Not that I had any chance of making it up them by that point. Oh the ‘joys’ of being nine months pregnant…

But, we got lucky, and while the house has its, I’m going to say ‘quirks’, the agency we deal with, have been very pleasant to deal with. And if anyone has ever rented a property in Australia before, they might know that most agencies can be absolute and utter nightmares! And me and BF were finally living together! Alone!

Well, for about a week and a half at least.

That October, I gave birth to my beautiful little girl, and our small little family was born.

Two little blue lines…

About me

I am not the sort of person you envy. Or the person you look up to. You don’t try to emulate my manicure or my style. You may not even be sure I have one. Unless holey, oversized T-shirts and tracky dacks are your thing. To be honest, I couldn’t fit into anything nice now anyway. And I’m pretty sure my nail file was chewed up by four and a half little teeth.
You don’t scroll through your Facebook feed to see one of my posts and hate your imperfect life a little bit more. I imagine your more then likely to scroll right past most.
And if you hung out with me, you’d get a few laughs, but maybe a bit more honesty then you’d like.
Don’t try on dresses with me, you won’t leave the store with anything new or shiny. I’m crap for the economy. Great for your savings though.
I’m am almost always found with a coffee as I can’t function without it. And if that’s mysteriously missing, it’s because I have wine instead. Cheap, sweet, $4 a bottle, wine.
No, no I’m afraid I am not the blogger to follow if your after a way to make your life shiny and bright and perfect. Better look at Pinterest for that. While your there, look up rainbow cupcakes, it’ll change your world.

I’m in my late 20’s, unmarried, although I live with my boyfriend and our non-stop, crazy/beautiful baby girl, that we’ve nicknamed The Munchkin. We’re constantly broke. We live in a teeny, tiny unit with no bathtub, no dishwasher, and only one bathroom and one toilet. We fight, we make up, we fall down in a heap of exhaustion at the end of the day, we muck up, but only once have we almost burnt the whole (rented) house down.
There’s enough space for our small family, but just a handful of guests can make it feel like squeezing your way through a mosh pit. All of our furniture is second or third hand. And almost every piece has crumby hand prints on it from a run-away munchkin.
I don’t claim to have the perfect life, but it’s mine, and I love it (most of the time). It’s still quite new to me, and it’s been a very steep learning curve. There’s been many tears, much frustration, and right now, there is three loads of washing hanging out on the line, and it is pouring rain! That counts as a rinse cycle too right?

I’m really only writing for myself. I’ve spent most of the last year baby wrangling and I need an outlet. And since it’s 2014, and I can’t ride a unicycle or juggle fruit any more, a blog it is. That’s what all the kids are doing these days after all.
If I gain some followers, great. It’ll give me a sense of accomplishment. If not, I’ll say “oh well” and secretly cry into my pillow about it.