THIS is what I have to live with

I found this on the kitchen bench when I was cleaning up today. Not entirely sure if he was joking. If you asked Steve if he was, he'd say 'No' with the straightest of faces.

I can't ever win.

Bad Mother Alert

I have no idea how many teeth my child is "supposed" to have by any given age.

What's more, I haven't even looked it up now that I am aware I don't know. Haven't asked anyone. Don't know if the LGBB is currently cutting her 2 year-old molars, or.... do they get molars at some other stage? Is it 6 year-old molars? I seem to remember this phrase.

Oh, I don't know. All I know is, I am right proud of myself for working out (no thanks at ALL to the GP we saw on Tuesday) just what has made my little Blissbomb turn positively atomic since last week. I had the presence of mind to check her teeth. She's done that telltale give-away: sticking not just a finger or two, sometimes her whole fist, into her mouth and gnawing it like she used to when she was a baby. Dribble and all. After the umpteenth, "Get your hand out of your MOUTH, please" the penny suddenly dropped. Oh, cack. It wasn't an ear infection she had on the weekend that was raising her temperature and making her drop, perpendicular to the floor, and whimpering, "My eeeear!" Teeth coming through are pretty darn close to ears. It was probably something to do with her teeth. I wondered if she had some sort of infection in her jaw from an uncleaned tooth or something then. I never expected it'd be teething/more teeth coming, I thought that was all past.

When I took her to the doctor, he was as useless as they always seem to be whenever I tell myself I'll feel better and less guilty if I take her... to a doctor who always, always ends up doing jack *sorry, off my high and mighty soapbox now* And he said, "Well, if she had an ear infection, it's all clear now, I don't see anything wrong with her."

Yeah? YEAH, buddy? Well, we'll invite you to come to our place when we have a listless daughter flaked out on the couch, holding her neck behind her ear, TELLING us for crap's sake that her ear is hurting and generally being unwell in herself and an absolute terror to approach and do anything with - oh boy, didn't we have a lovely family weekend cooped up inside because of the rain, the sleet, the snow (ok, that was a bit far), getting all tetchy at each other with Mummy and Daddy taking it in turns being the soothing/good cop (but most of the time both of us considered the bad cops). Never before have we cowered, half-giggling, half-shocked, in another room while our little girl flailed about during yet another tantrum, where we'd look at each other wide-eyed and mouth, "Oh my GOD, I think she's broken, she gets this from you" like we did this past week.

So then, later that day after visiting Dr Useless, I decided to make a game of looking in her mouth to count her teeth. Lolly thought it was great. Thank God! I counted ten on the bottom, ten on the top. And then, saw two more bottom molars and one top molar just breaking through.

YEEEEOUCH!! I don't care what anyone says, babies feel their teeth coming through, how could they not!? Perhaps some don't register the pain or the sensation/s. But I cannot accept they feel "nothing".

So. How many teeth and by when? (approximately of course) That is the question.

Mandala Meditation Monday #1

Finally, I've had a brainwave (not that I was trying) for a kitsch little theme day all of my very own. Ha-ha!

Little did I know, when I vowed to myself sitting there at my second Energenetics class last Wednesday that I would make Monday mornings my study/meditation/connection time, that M stands for ... Monday and M...andala and .... Meditation! Brill!

Seeing as what I work with is a collective consciousness (well, we all do, really, but how aware are we that the "fitful night's sleep I had last night" has also happened to our neighbour, the butcher, the kid up the street, the elderly lady in the next suburb..... etc.), I have decided that whatever general public/consumption mandala meditation stands out at me from the morning's work is the one I will put here on my blog.

I am figuring, if it is pertinent to me, odds are on that at least one of you reading will also gain some support from reading/seeing it. I find them such upholding things - geometric shapes aside, it's the words that I find such a great comfort when the mandala is "the one" for me at that particular moment - that I can't just sit here with them all to myself and not share them!

I've been waiting for a way to open up where I'm not forcing the exchange on here. And it seems, after this morning (when I was working on opening up the first gateway of my awareness to try and shed some light on the virus that is impinging on my health - I believe it entered last August during the hand, foot and mouth fiasco last year and hasn't properly left either myself or the LGBB), I have been given the nod from somewhere upstairs.

So. Today, this is what has jumped out at me. I hope one of you at least finds it a timely read :) Do let me know if it has any meaning for you! (you can always email if you prefer not to comment). You may wish to obtain some coal and sit with this - put it on your work space or tuck it in a pocket, etc. - if you feel it might give you added support. It is as simple as reading the text below, but sometimes it helps to consciously ask for the energy of that particular stone essence to be "placed in" your pattern.

Enough with the getting-confusing-now talk. On with the first Mandala of the day!

10. The ANCESTRAL SHIELD

the colour of ...RICH MAGENTA
the sound chord of …D suspended 2
the essence of...COAL...'to kindle'... As an Earth-reliever, COAL acts as a capsule to contain toxins and cleanse pockets of hurts which have loaded the Earth’s energetic fields. It filters and draws emotional residues and toxins that have dammed and created blockages. COAL, then, may encourage you to work through the communication levels of feelings rather than storing them. It helps to eliminate the false majesty of the ego, bringing the ego into the more responsible stance of accepting your service to a cause. For those working within the broad service of cultural prejudices, COAL helps to promote the suspension of judgement and comparisons and so allows you to walk freely with your own ability. Encompassing a broad energy for bringing through expansive understanding, COAL allows for the peace and space wherein your own needs may be met. It assists in easing the stress on your nervous system. COAL may be used for genetic alignment in order to dissolve past persecuting patterns which hinder your seeking of spiritual productivity (particularly that which pertains to the ancient knowledge and lost civilizations). It also treats the mental restriction relative to your opening to the perception and understanding of such lost wisdom. Relieving depression (for whenever the body is under assault and there is a need for tissue regeneration, depression always ensues), COAL stimulates tissue regeneration throughout the body especially when exposure to radiation has occurred. COAL improves your self-esteem and inspires you to experience higher spiritual truths. It temporarily aligns all subtle bodies which makes it easier for vibrational remedies to work more effectively. COAL may also be used for the fear of bringing the feminine into a more androgynous state.

This Mandala is the Gateway that will link you to the force and magnitude of your past. It also represents the encompassing of all that you are to carry into the future. The perception represented by this Mandala will aid you in toting the load of your passion and uniting it with your ideals so that you can create a shield of form for today’s reality.

This Mandala is about learning prudence through the advent of wisdom. It is about reworking your own perception from one of seeming disadvantage and turning it into an advantageous perspective so that you can recognise the scheme of an experience.

This Mandala is about turning weakness into worth—gathering medicine in order to perform, or create, a form that can transform vulnerability into sustaining strength. Although you should heed the call for discretion, you should not hold back but instead use wisdom to pave your way. Rather than using brutal force, or physical endurance, to beat the path to a solution, now is the time for you to stay quiet and use your sensitivity. Listening to your own sensitive view of a situation will allow you to be guided through the twilight and preserve the structure of your energy.

Meditating with this Mandala will greatly help you while your survival instincts gather the strength to become more reliable to your changing self. Such meditation holds the key to your visions and teachings thus far. This Mandala is your wisdom personified—the ability of your wisdom and worth—and your shield of preservation and possibility. This Mandala will anchor your vision quest to attain your heart’s true desire.

Do not create adversity through conflict. Instead, face your quest with discretion and prudence and walk the path of peace through wisdom. The state of your memory will remind you that your wisdom is embedded in links to your “ancestral home”. Be still, therefore, and call upon your Ancestor-hood to gather your tools of change for the new.

I would just like to acknowledge...

Four horses have been destroyed since last Thursday, the most recent at Yarra Valley on the weekend.

Why?

Because they broke a leg during a steeplechasing (or jumps) race. In the name of greed, they are being flogged and raced and pushed. And so many are being put to death, every race season, for what use is a lame horse, of course?

I just cannot accept that the industry has to keep going for the economy. In the name of entertainment of humans, what's a few dozen horse murders every year? Far OUT, people.

To the money-men:
When are you going to wake up, you f@&*ers, and quit this cruel "sport"?

Let me just reiterate: Four horses in four days. Whether you like horses or not, or racing or not, is not the point. How the hell is this allowed to happen??

Please help to END steeplechasing in Australia...better safety rules are NOT enough"

Bye bye, Bea

Love her or be grated by her, she was one inimitable woman who provided decades of entertaining lines in three long running series.

She was my favourite Golden Girl and I wished (now) I had seen her when she came out and did her comedy shows only a few years back. What an amazing and long career. I didn't necessarily follow her and wasn't an all-out fan, but - just as with any classic long time entertainer - it's kind of like losing someone you've always known. Because she's always been on the tv, somewhere, sometime, in something.

'Golden Girls' Star Bea Arthur Dies at 86

Her first word!

The LGBB and her Dad surprised me the other weekend by inviting me outside to see what they'd been working on.

My "name"! (see her version written there on the left in yellow?)

Lolly was so proud that she had spelled out "Mum", from copying what Daddy had written. And I have to say, I was surprised at how full to bursting I felt, once again in her short life so far, that we have created someone who writes now. My God! She can do something new! Again! *sob*

I find this all so amazing. Please let me never stop thinking this is all so amazing, what we have been blessed with.

Kickstart a sluggish metabolism AND help your TTC??

Here is an easy way to get a few extra healthy minerals and goodies into your system. The smattering of chilli power, to taste, gives the added health benefit of triggering a slow metabolism. Boo-yah!

This recipe is from one of my dearest of the dear. Basically, a good egg, if ever I was blessed enough for a brother to marry one....


Yummy Seeds!

1 pkt sunflower kernels
1 pkt pepitas
Dash Tamari (wheat-free soy sauce, and the more healthy, certainly the more superior in quality and taste, for mine)
Dash sesame oil

1. Heat a frypan on low heat. Add the seeds and gently cook until browning, stirring continuously.
(do NOT leave them alone, not only do they pop - so be warned! - but they all of a sudden start to brown instantly. Takes a while to get to this stage if your pan is not very big, and sometimes it's easier to brown them in batches, but you need to stand with them, stirring frequently).
They'll be done when you notice your pepitas are puffed out and not flat (mmmm and then they melt in your mouth when you're done cooking this recipe!).
2. Keeping the heat on low, add a dash of sesame oil (don't overdo this part) and stir through thoroughly so that a light, even coating on all seeds.
3. Switch off the heat.
4. Add your dash of Tamari sauce. It'll sizzle and smoke impressively, basically it will mostly be burned off by the heat - splash the sauce in sparingly and stir through, add more drops to desired taste.
5. Dust with chilli flakes/powder (but flakes work best) - start sparingly with this too. Taste test. Add some more until desired hotness is reached.
6. Allow to cool and store in glass jars.
7. Eat often and enjoy!

These are sooooo more-ish. I cook up a big batch every few weeks and they make great nibblies if you don't feel like fruit or some other healthy substitute. They taste like they're an indulgence (to me, anyway) and nobody else in this house likes seeds - ewwwww, seeds and nuts, pah pah, says Steve - so I feel like these are even more of a treat, just for moi.


Here are some of the benefits of the pepitas:

Lower Cholesterol
A Rich Source of Healthful Minerals, Protein and Monounsaturated Fat
Anti-Inflammatory Benefits in Arthritis
Protection for Men's Bones (from the zinc found in these super-seeds, which also has links to aiding in prostate health and sperm function/motility)
High in protein, along with some valuable minerals such as magnesium, manganese, copper and iron

And the sunflower seeds are just as fantastic:

High source of folate
Rich in the antioxidant (and natural blood thinner, all you ACA girls!) Vitamin E
Contain mono- and poly-unsaturated fats, which bind to bad cholesterol (I think? I flunked Chemistry pretty badly) - or at least, assist to keep it away/down
High in selenium and copper, a natural way to prevent cell damage

I reckon these may just be the ideal baby-making/preparatory snack, I've just realised!!

The meanest Coach

I think Steve has been coaching the LGBB. Three of these (above) are my Barbies. Their matted, old hair proves they have been played with often. And come from the 80's. The pretty princess in her fancy shmancy ballerina get-up is Lolly's latest addition to the group, a present to her from her Grandparents for Christmas. I find her inferior, with her immovable arms, elbows and feet. But that's just me.

The LGBB loves them. She talks to them like they're respectable, decent, upstanding members of the household ... despite them, in this photo, wearing the sum total of all the clothes I have for them.

One day, recently, the LGBB was "loving" one of my Barbies so hard that she ripped the head clean off the neck. I don't mean popped it off so you could see that little bubble of plastic underneath and just stick it back on. I mean, full on tore the plastic. I was horrified! I let out a wail like I was still twelve years old. It cut almost as deeply as if one of my brothers had done the act maliciously. To top it off, Steve couldn't stop rolling about laughing (not sure if that was at my dismay or at my attempts to fix her).

And now, my most prized, my most lovely Barbie (whom I named Michelle, for I always thought that was such a soft, pretty, enviable name) has no neck. She's like a trucker. She may as well wear Stubbies and a pair of Blundies on her feet and let her gut out - Lord knows she's wanted to all these years. See her there on the right? See anything, oh I don't know... neckless about her?

The LGBB and I were playing with the Barbies yesterday. See them here in their "hot tub", or so Steve and I like to snicker and call it. During our little tea party in the hot tub, I asked the LGBB what their names were. I was thinking how adorable (if not a tad strange) their names were, when all of a sudden, I had cause to believe that Steve has been coaching my daughter to get rid of the broken one. My Michelle. Despite his protests and assurances that he has not, I want your opinion. Take a look at these names:

(From left to right) In the picture, according to the LGBB, we have:

Narmi
Winkle (??? WTF?)
Barbie, and....



Wait for it.....





Toodabin.

So. Toodabin? Or........ to the bin?


Hmmmmmmmmmm. I'm suspicious, let me tell you. Nasty piece of work, that Steve.

Nobody puts Baby in the corner

But... what if she wants to be there?

Recently, Steve put up the two floating wall shelves we bought twelve months ago. The one in the kitchen went up the weekend we bought them. It proved such a scumbag to erect that the last two weren't attempted until loooooong after Steve forgot that we nearly got a divorce over the first one.

In fact, we left it so long that we grew unsure of the decision to put any shelves up on the wall opposite the kitchen as we'd planned. It was so long ago. There was no room. It was a big gamble.

When I found a trio of tall, skinny dark wood framed mirrors for the bargain price of $29.95 at Spotlight recently - long after the trend of having them in one's entrance hall or similar had left the building and been replaced by The Next Big Thing - it all just came together.

Now, I feel far less claustrophobic in this titchy li'l side-room to the kitchen. We've created quite a nice little nook. And I love it there.

This is where I go, in the early, early mornings, Zsa Zsa* in hand, a box of matches to light a candle and my laptop or notepad. It's just the most comfortable space in the house now, for me to do my writing. My work. And also, strangely, relaxing too. It can be both! I've never succesfully had a place that is both before. But, here it is.



* Okay, here's where I have to sheepishly admit to the dumbest nickname you'll ever hear for....... a soft faux-mink type throw blanket. It is the most luxurious, velvety, chocolate-coloured smoochy thing. And I can't remember now who named "her", but she's called Zsa Zsa, after the inimitable (oh, except by... a blanket, apparently), glamorous Ms Gabor herself.

Love and sex and magic

This post is merely to document my uneek solution so far to covering up the rude words in current pop songs that we inevitably hear when we're about town. Subsitute the word "sex" for "Scraps". He's mentioned quite a lot lately. Popular dog!

As such, the LGBB thinks that Justin Timberlake and Ciara have kindly created a little love song for her take-everywhere doggy, Scraps. Something about doing tricks. Dogs do tricks, right? Now to brace myself for the day when she challenges me, most likely at a checkout, "Mum, he said 'sex'. Sex. Not Scraps. Silly Mummy."

Anywho, here's the video clip. For "Love and Scraps and Magic" (shhh, don't tell her - what she doesn't know will definitely not harm her in this instance).

Late at night, this **** is very funny

So it might not stack up in daylight hours, just warning you, dear reader. However, in case it tickles anyone as much as it did Steve and I last night (picture writhing and unable to breathe with the visuals and scenarios we were creating for this little item), please. Enjoy. And hey, there's still a few minutes, so maybe even bid!

This is one of the cutest auctions I have EVER seen.

Ok, number one: I love how honest this Ebayer is. "Only been used once or twice." Like you'd be able to tell how many times someone put a hand up it.

[If you haven't clicked on the link already, you really want to now, don't you]

2. The urgency! The urgency to sell the cumbersome, hard-to-pack hand puppet before they move overseas... I mean, you'd hate to have to buy another seat on the plane for it. I'll have what he's having. "No, you can't! You can't order any more, you're costing me a fortune and you've had 5 Bloody Marys already, you lush. I knew I should've sold you on Ebay like I threatened to."

3. The commitment to sell crap (as Ebay so often is known for) is outstanding. I mean, what a blessing (for the puppet) that this seller didn't just see fit to chuck out the perfectly fine - in good condition, used once or twice - hand puppet instead of making it its very own auction. What a refined way to exit an owner's life. Even if they did only use you ... once or twice.

4. I just absolutely LOVE the idea of someone winning this item and opting to pick-up. For one, because the postage is dearer than the winning bid itself and, two, could you picture the seller opening the front door, puppet in hand, a sad look on the puppet's face as it realises it's being shipped off to another home instead of going on the overseas adventure.... Looking forlornly over the winning bidder's shoulder as they head back down the path to their car.... How sad! For the puppet!


Used once or twice. *wiping tears* That just slays me.


Okay. I have far too much room in my head, obviously. Going to go fill it. With some other absurdity, no doubt.

Marinated Vegetable Salad

Thanks to the little recipe section at the back of my rice cooker instruction manual, comes this delish delight. You'll need 2-3 hours to let it sit, just warning you if you decide to try it and don't read that bit in the instructions beforehand!

Marinated Vegetable Salad
Serves 8


2 cups sliced fresh mushrooms
1-1/4 cup halved cherry tomatoes
1 cup avocado chunks
1 cup sliced olives
1/2 cup chopped red onion
6 tablespoons red wine vinegar
4 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon dried basil leaves
6 cups cooked jasmine rice, cooled
Red onion rings, for garnish

Combine mushrooms, tomatoes, avocado, olives and onion in a shallow dish. Combine vinegar, parsley, oil, salt and basil in a separate bowl and pour over vegetables. Cover and chill 2 to 3 hours. Add rice, toss lightly. Garnish with red onion rings.

He didn't stand a chance

It was Steve's 37th birthday yesterday. I asked the LGBB to choose a cake on Saturday from a book I'd borrowed from the library (it was one of those last-minute grab moments, you know, like when you're walking out of the library and are looking around to see if there's anything you might like to read, given that you've been there for the past hour choosing story books for them but the only stuff near the counter is browsing, flicking worthy? It was one of those books).

This is the one she chose. Of course! 'Tis the season to see bunnies. And he was DE.LICIOUS (if not a little ridiculous, I mean look at the teeth I put on 'im... they weren't on the original but he was entirely too formal and boring without them - in fact, he could have been a big-eared dog for all anyone knew):

My favourite of the day

We went to the beach for an impromptu family outing yesterday. Just snuck it in before clouds came over and it began raining on the way home.

Took some excellent photos, wasn't meaning to capture anything special. But amongst them (and I might share some more later if there are any worthy of it) was this one that I can't stop looking at.

Sometimes I want to be a little girl again

They just seem to have far more gorgeous things these days.
Don't they?




(p.s. spot Ella's Raffi in the background! He's always watching, with that goofy smirk)

Keepin' it real. Or something else?

I have to admit something. I struggle to write here about the "other" stuff that goes on in my life. I fear ridicule, I don't so much fear people disbelieving me anymore... but I do fear the ridicule. I guess what I am really fearing, then, is rejection.

Ah, yes. Thank you, dear Alfred Adler, for alerting the media to that one.

I'm not sure how to broach the topics of the things that happen here (I'm talking, I guess, paranormal... oh, heck, look that already sounds too Ghost Whispery for my liking) but I do so often want to share. And then I back right off from doing so because, well, for several reasons I suppose. For one thing, I don't want this to become a cliché.

I guess I could just start documenting. And then, when things turn into "to be continued" follow-up posts, I wouldn't have such back-tracking to do.

Take, for instance, the most recent thing that's been going on here. Here goes...

About two months ago, give or take a week, I got woken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night. A young girl (no, definitely nobody I know) said to someone as she stood beside my bed, "Let's turn her light on, that'll wake her up and THEN she'll get up and have to work!" She was mischievous. I woke up, eyes still closed, not a little scared. Then I flashed my eyes open as if to prove to my "silly imaginative brain" that it was going to be pitch dark.

It wasn't. My bedside light was on. Go ahead and explain away all you like. But I guarantee you, it was off before I went to sleep and I have never ever been in the habit before of doing things (such as turning my light on) for no good reason in my sleep.

I knew "they" (I usually call this collective, "upstairs", because it sounds friendly and harmless, which I believe it is... as a collective) wanted me to get up and work. I had been growing aware of a dragging energy pulling on me. It was beginning each night as I went to bed.

But here comes my humanness getting in the way. I was:

1) always doubtful of my ability to do whatever this "work" was;
2) becoming "spiritually lazy" - ie. just, really, promising during daylight hours that if I was called on, I would (this time, I promise) get over my fears of the dark, fears of whom or what I might see (my own conjured up boogeyman of my mind), and then totally going back on my word;
3) beginning to psyche myself out and turning it into a scary movie (which it totally wasn't, because there was nothing sinister at all in the energies I was sensing - meddling, or blocking, maybe, but not "bad" in any way at all).

What this did was create a bit of a melting pot, I discovered. Other things began occurring. The LGBB, for example, began voicing her fear of rooms - every room, almost - in the house and flatly refused to go anywhere other than the kitchen and our bedroom unless I was with her. She would tell me, even in daylight, that "the room's too dark... it's scary". She had never heard or even overheard me voice anything. Because I hadn't voiced my own fears to anyone! Not even Steve.

And then, one night about three weeks ago, I walked into the lounge room to double check the computer one last time before going to bed. The room was dark. Steve was down in the LGBB's "wing", opening doors and lowering music volume and so forth. When I crossed the threshold of the lounge room, there was a man standing there to my left. I let out an almighty "AGGH!" before realising I had seen an energy. It wasn't an intruder. I wasn't actually sure what might have been more acceptable. And that's when I knew I had to pull my socks up and get real with myself. I do see these things, I do have to be responsible with them. Otherwise, why the heck am I seeing or hearing them?

So uh... I did nothing. Oops.

So then, at the start of last week, I was in the kitchen here and Steve was in the lounge watching tv and waiting for me to come in. I started to move towards the lounge (it faces our bedroom door, with a lovely big entry way in between) and saw him walk into the bedroom. Imagine my surprise, then, when I nearly tripped over him (because I was looking at the floor as I walked) standing in the middle of the lounge room still! Er.... I yelped. And that's when it all started spilling out. I told him I'd just seen him walking into our bedroom. He stared at me, a comical wide-eyed "you're a freak... but I love you" stare. He's used to admissions out of the blue like this from me by now. And then I told him about the man - a different man, I'm sure - in the lounge the time before that. And then the girl at my bedside.

Ooookay. That's a few too many people. And that wasn't even to mention the number of times in the past couple of months that he's come in to where I've been and said, "Did you call me?" I have always replied, no. And then felt somewhat validated as the confusion and slight weakening in his sceptical mask crosses his face visibly. He is always so sure that he "could've sworn....". Same thing happens to me too. I hear male and female voices sometimes around here. I'm fairly used to it (I can't ever really hear what they're saying anyway). The LGBB is also pretty regularly asking things lately like, "Where the lady gone?"

So. What to do? How to begin? Well, last week, I thought it was high time I did. My sleep was being affected. I was being woken every single night. I'd then lay there, scared frigid and in hot sweats, wanting desperately to get out of bed but quite certain I'd be standing in my own piddle in a puddle on my kitchen floor at some point if I did.

I phoned Neri (she's from Peace Space - anyone who's read the draft of my book would know her - she's so awesome and pulls absolutely no punches). Told her what was going on. She said there was a passover that sounded like it was needing to be done. My mind started racing forward and assuming, "oh, passover? So, like, these are dead people hanging around that I have to somehow clear out because they've attached themselves to us?"

No. How simplistic my guess was. It was, in fact, way easier than this to deal with (to me, at least). After some internal work and unravelling, I've nutted out that it stems from times past when, as a kid, I'd be in trouble if I ever got out of bed. Certainly if I got out of bed and wanted to get in my parents' bed. Add to this that our house was a big scary mo'-fo' of a place. Biiig scary. That's an entirely different post altogether (and a big hello to all the Flying High/Airplane! fans right here). So if, as a child, I'd been taught that getting out of bed was bad/scary/wrong/naughty, it set up the thinking that something bad might happen to me if I wasn't safe in my bed. I had to now retrain my adult self out of this thinking.

What ensued was a night or two of telling myself internally that I was the adult now, that I had permission (this all sounds nutty, right?!) to get out of bed and that nothing bad would happen to me if and when I did.

It put an entirely different spin on how I view our methods of putting the LGBB to bed. I'm quite satisfied that we don't put "the fear of God" or whatever into her, that she's not told she must under no circumstances get out of bed. I know how damaging this can be. I don't know what the answer is, if you have a child who constantly gets up and comes in to your bed... I'm not saying I have the answers. I just know that, in my experience as a child, it was harmful to put that fear into us - coupled with a scary-ass house and a long country mile between my parents' door and mine.

I also went and did a bit of a clearing to remove the energy - to pass it over - and basically tell it that it was "time to go". I mean, even my completely (or so he'd have you believe) closed down husband and toddler daughter were being affected. Nothing bad, I stress here. But just... well, not productive and rather limiting to us as a household.

So what happens the very next night after I do this "passover" clearing?

We get a visit in the wee hours from our little LGBB, who's walked the twenty-seven steps - yes, we've counted because it feels like a mile away, especially at night in the dark - with her regulation "two dummies" and friends, Scraps and Bunny, in tow. Walked all the way up to say good morning! Very nonchalant and not talking at all about the dark or anything that was scary. Okay, so it wasn't 6am yet. But we were still so impressed! She wouldn't even do that during the day, let me tell you, with all the lights on AND the sun shining in the windows. She hasn't done it since. But just that one time. I had been musing to myself on going to bed that it "felt different" now. I was satisfied I had done my job and cleared it. And then she turns up. I was quite amazed.

So now, I guess, the energy that pulls me out of bed to work will get a much more coherent and willing participant (in me). I've already been up, around 5am or so, and to be honest I can't actually remember what I worked on. Upstairs just instructed me on a few things - life things, my life and direction - and... er, well, I might just stop now because that all seems quite mundane to put in writing. Too hard (and too much) to explain, anyway.

I don't really know what this post is about. Don't really even know how to end it. It's just... well, this is so much a part of who I am - it's not some new circus act, but rather, something that has laid dormant in me since childhood - that I would be quite denying this major side of myself if I didn't speak/admit/be honest in here every once in a while.

Amongst all the fluff and light and complaints, that is. Orright. Let me be off, before I change my mind and delete this.

Toodles *scarpers, with dust raising from heels*

The great blurt-fest of '09 - Part I

I have been sicker than a sick dog since Sunday. Today is the first day I feel vaguely human again.

It all began when I contracted a delightful bug Thursday fortnight ago from one Miss Vomitron, who, yes, as the name suggests, "got me" with a power chuck while trying to tell me she needed a cuddle - no wonder. She was over it in a day, what with being able to sleep it off in four hours' straight sleep during the day first in our bed and then on the couch. Of course, there was no such "luxury" for moi.

So last Friday, I was finally ready to say that the slimy green town, which I was apparently building with my own coughed-up Lego pieces each morning, was complete. Saturday was my day of rest. And then Sunday, it really started. I was hit with some vile, second wave of this super-cold.

It is at this point that I would like to personally thank the world for rushing to the aid of anti-biotics for every little thing. Don't get me wrong - and please don't report me to the Vent police - I do believe they have their place. I'm not an anti-anti-biotic-taker. However.... in clarifying that, I have formed the opinion over the years that they are an ineffective if not useless (if not dangerous) way to clear up symptoms of some of your more typical, everyday - and sure, annoying and uncomfortable - colds and flu's. I swore off them, except in absolutely necessary cases for various things like tooth infections and the likes, years before the LGBB was born. She has had one course of anti-biotic cream in her life, so far, and I'd resort to using them if, again, absolutely necessary. I think I was probably about nineteen or twenty, the last time I went to a doctor who prescribed me something "just 'cos" I'd gone to see them when I was sick. Entirely unnecessary but I did what the doctor ordered back then. I wonder, there must be people who go to the doctors for any little illness and are given prescriptions, when they possibly don't realise there is another alternative (one of which being, hey, just be sick for a few days and wait it out!).

Where am I going with this? Oh yeah. I guess I'm just musing that "the simple cold" isn't so darn simple anymore. I don't know if it's my constitution (which, if it is, must have changed in recent months) but it doesn't just take a few days to get over a cold these days! If I caught a cold, five years ago, I could pretty accurately track its pattern. I'd have a day of feeling like I was coming down with something, the next day dripping nose and eyes, the following day it'd predictably move further into my head and sinuses/ears and so forth, then it'd be on its way out when I could feel myself hacking up the stuff off my lungs (ewwwww.. forgive me the description). Four days, but usually five at most to get rid of a cold.

Not now. Now it's, what, two weeks? And counting? I am probably grossly under-researched, but I do in part blame the use of quick-fix drugs for these new, harder to get rid of bugs and things. See? "Things". That's the official medical term I use because I have no hard evidence.

Ah, FIG!

And this, dear reader, is why we were attempting to do this.

Home grown figs! I MEAN.... yum!

These were fairly little ones. Some of them are monstrous sized. Sooo sweet, so juicy. So enjoyed by birds.

Any fruit I can get the Little Miss to eat is worth trying to save from nature.... Right?

Guess who's graduated to Kindy swimming class!

If any of you said "Steve!".... you'd be incorrect. Funny. But incorrect.

Our little girl, who began swimming in Feb 2007 when she was barely six months old, has reached Kindy class stage/age. It was a happy day today and a poignant one as Steve took his last turn in the class with the LGBB. Little does she know, he won't be swimming with her next term.

I'm taking her to a four day school holiday program intensive this week, to get her used to the idea of swimming alone with just four other kids and an instructor in her class. Our little baby's getting all growned up! SNIFF. I can still remember my huge welling of emotion the day I took these photos, her first ever dip in a swimming pool. The first photo, just seconds before she got dunked by Daddy.

She's loved her swimming since this first day - we can thank her first teacher, in part, for this because she was phenomenal, leaving at the end of that first year to take up a position as a primary school teacher after completing her studies (what a grouse teacher she must be making!) - and has never screamed or cried or thrashed about, happy to participate every single week.

Yep. She's a water sign and a water baby, alright!

I have confidence in confidence alone...

"Besides which, you see, I have con-fi-dence
in meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"



The LGBB whiles away a rainy Saturday morning with "Maria and the kids".

Ever wondered?

I give you.... the most painstaking effort for accuracy I've ever encountered in the attempts to capture the elusive Man himself. The one in the Moon. I'm very excited, actually, for this is the first non-family related picture (in fact, one of the very first of any kind) she has drawn. I love getting her commentary. Soooooo priceless.

If you've ever wondered what he looked like, the LGBB would be pleased to tell you he has:

"Two eyyyyeth..."
"A thmiley mouth..."
*pause to turn from the board and check out the moon from where she's standing, just so she gets the proportions right... but of course*
"Legth.... one, two, free, four, five, thixth, theven.... aaaight..."
"Armth... one, two..." (perpendicular from his body, apparently - maybe he's just put on his deodorant?)
"Hair..."

And then the hair extended down his body. I asked her what it was, just to be sure. And yep. It's hair.

So there you have it. The Man in the Moon is an eight-legged, potato-shaped smiley being. With an urgent need for a hair removal cream of some sort.