Just another day, tellin' it like it is....
Here's the shortened version of what happened when we farewelled our family back to Japan after they'd visited for a couple of weeks in late January. When I asked the LGBB what we did at the airport, I expected her to say "we said goodbye to Mia and Emma" or words to that effect because, after all, that's all she had said for the past half hour after we waved bye-bye to their plane. But no. She was going for the immediate past, as in what happened when we were walking back to the car.
And you've just gotta love a kid who tells you in no uncertain terms that the previously enjoyed singing you delighted them with has suddenly fallen out of favour with them. Don't you? I wasn't that bad, I thought....
Scrapsy make my better from Lolly Lovers on Vimeo.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Did you mean .... Airily?
There's one thing about my name that has always presented a challenge for computer spellcheckers. My Dad has always said you can't say my name angrily. He thinks it's the "ily" ending that does it. I tend to agree. Then again, I've never been so cross with myself that I talk out loud to myself and say my own name in anger. Except for that one time when I let on to my best friend that I really liked Nigel (shuddup that was his name, yes really, and he was heavenly) and then discovered that her older brother was very good friends with said Nigel and this one time, when we walked into the school library, there he was. Nigel. And my very own BFF threw me to the wolves when she called out excitedly to Nigel, "Nigel! That's the one I told you about!" and pointed to me so close that she actually dug her finger into my upper arm. Sigh. Groan. Cringe. Vomit. I was fourteen. That time, that time yes, I really let myself have it when I got home and yes, probably definitely did utter my own name in disgust at myself for being so stoopid as to divulge my secret love.
Hennnnyway, I was amused today when suggestions to correct my name were thrown at me when I was completing a report for work....
Airily
Charily
Wirily
Chirpily
Rather boring, really. But none of them could be said whilst sounding enraged.
It got me thinking. Would any of these, seriously, cut it as a yuneek-sounding name? Personally, I don't think so.
So, tell me (either including your "real" name or not), what have spellcheckers called you? Nothing offensive, I hope. And in your opinion, would they make the Best or Worst Names list?
Hennnnyway, I was amused today when suggestions to correct my name were thrown at me when I was completing a report for work....
Airily
Charily
Wirily
Chirpily
Rather boring, really. But none of them could be said whilst sounding enraged.
It got me thinking. Would any of these, seriously, cut it as a yuneek-sounding name? Personally, I don't think so.
So, tell me (either including your "real" name or not), what have spellcheckers called you? Nothing offensive, I hope. And in your opinion, would they make the Best or Worst Names list?
Jeans for Valentines' Day!
All Jeanswest stores around Australia are donating their profits for the entire day to the Bushfire Appeal on
What a great excuse to go buy a new top, blouse or pair of pants for yourself. Or for him!
So go shopping and know you are contributing to making a difference to the victims of these fires.
Saturday 14th February!
What a great excuse to go buy a new top, blouse or pair of pants for yourself. Or for him!
So go shopping and know you are contributing to making a difference to the victims of these fires.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The Big Girl
The LGBB has begun announcing that she's a "big girl". I am taking this opportunity and flagrantly exploiting it by announcing that "big girls don't wear nappies." It's an ongoing thang.
Yesterday, she came out of our ensuite with her arms outstretched to the sides. I could swear it looks like she's airing her underarms, I remember thinking.
And so she was, apparently. She walked past me, all teenager-like, and says with a flick of her wrist as if to motion towards her damp armpits, "Did my armth." Like, as if I was not supposed to touch said "armth" in case I ruined her application of my roll-on deoderant. See, I knew exactly what had gone down as soon as she'd said that. She had been in my "lady drawer" in our bathroom and used my deoderant stick on herself like I sometimes do, pretending to roll it under her clothed armpit. With the lid still on.
Oh how I hope she never discovers there's a lid on my deoderant. Or that lipsticks and balms have twisting applicators that make the good bit go up and down. I'm just waiting for that one, too.
Tonight, after various challenges throughout the day, which are increasing in intensity and frequency lately (and not nearly as funny or cute as that aforementioned anecdote), I had to do a straight-faced, silent giggle into my dinner when all of a sudden, Miss 2.7 beside me puts down her fork, leans back as if to stretch her belly like Uncle Rob does at Christmas time after too much turkey and says, putting her hands behind her head, "I'm just checkin' ponytail." I tried not to make eye contact. Oooookay.
"You," the LGBB went on, motioning at me with a wave of one hand, "eat and talk."
"Eat and talk?" I asked.
"You.... you, you, you (she's got a fast-mind stutter thing happening lately) keep eating and talking. To Daddy."
Right-eo. Not only must I do as she says, I have to do it with whom she says too now. This kid's got ideas. If she learns how to program the Foxtel iQ so that Hi-5 continues recording, I'm screwed. She will officially no longer need me.
And now, here is the girl herself, signing off:
flhfffff3uuhuH3uy5y29J2P02JP0ZΩ∆ƒΩªqjjjjjjjjjjjjzz8,zz 050iwt9509t0 g drrr
HOW do you get those strange symbols? If she's gone and sworn in Latin, and you speak Latin, well I do most heartily apologise. Only a flat-handed toddler on a keyboard could conjure them up onto the screen, 'eh?
Yesterday, she came out of our ensuite with her arms outstretched to the sides. I could swear it looks like she's airing her underarms, I remember thinking.
And so she was, apparently. She walked past me, all teenager-like, and says with a flick of her wrist as if to motion towards her damp armpits, "Did my armth." Like, as if I was not supposed to touch said "armth" in case I ruined her application of my roll-on deoderant. See, I knew exactly what had gone down as soon as she'd said that. She had been in my "lady drawer" in our bathroom and used my deoderant stick on herself like I sometimes do, pretending to roll it under her clothed armpit. With the lid still on.
Oh how I hope she never discovers there's a lid on my deoderant. Or that lipsticks and balms have twisting applicators that make the good bit go up and down. I'm just waiting for that one, too.
Tonight, after various challenges throughout the day, which are increasing in intensity and frequency lately (and not nearly as funny or cute as that aforementioned anecdote), I had to do a straight-faced, silent giggle into my dinner when all of a sudden, Miss 2.7 beside me puts down her fork, leans back as if to stretch her belly like Uncle Rob does at Christmas time after too much turkey and says, putting her hands behind her head, "I'm just checkin' ponytail." I tried not to make eye contact. Oooookay.
"You," the LGBB went on, motioning at me with a wave of one hand, "eat and talk."
"Eat and talk?" I asked.
"You.... you, you, you (she's got a fast-mind stutter thing happening lately) keep eating and talking. To Daddy."
Right-eo. Not only must I do as she says, I have to do it with whom she says too now. This kid's got ideas. If she learns how to program the Foxtel iQ so that Hi-5 continues recording, I'm screwed. She will officially no longer need me.
And now, here is the girl herself, signing off:
flhfffff3uuhuH3uy5y29J2P02JP0ZΩ∆ƒΩªqjjjjjjjjjjjjzz8,zz 050iwt9509t0 g drrr
HOW do you get those strange symbols? If she's gone and sworn in Latin, and you speak Latin, well I do most heartily apologise. Only a flat-handed toddler on a keyboard could conjure them up onto the screen, 'eh?
Five years
I really can't believe it's been five years today that Ellanor suddenly passed away.
When I say "suddenly", I mean.... they phoned us at 7am while we were organising to both come in (wouldn't you know, Steve had decided not to go straight to work that day and detour past the hospital - something he hadn't been doing because he would go in at night after work and sit with her for hours... just looking at her, with me by his side). They - the doctors - were not scrambling in a life-threatening way at this point in the day.
They were getting increasingly concerned by lunchtime. We were on our way out to grab something to eat - still unaware that they were just so worried about her - and we sat at fricken McDonald's (my stomach leaps and punches my solar plexus with an acidic burn every time I pass that particular fast food outlet near the hospital) and ate whilst trying to distract ourselves from the worried looks that had been belying the staff's reassuring "let's just try and figure out what's going on, she's probably 'just' got a virus" gestures.
By mid afternoon, she was dead.
I think that's what shocked me most about Ella's dying - the fact that there was no indication the night before. The fact that even in the morning, though she was very pasty-looking and did not want to open her eyes (like you do when there's bright lights over your head and you are just feeling crap), we were oblivious to this being just SO terribly irreversible.
NEC takes hold so fast. For some premies, they will miraculously survive. With Ella's heart condition the way it was, she was already pushing uphill.
My beautiful big bubba was born to die. I became firmly convinced not long after her death. And I determined back then, I think, without knowing, that I would one day share her story in such a manner that her death itself was not the key point. Certainly not the final fullstop in the book.
And it's not.
A quiet day will be spent today. We're taking the LGBB for a swim, the three of us. Doing things that remind us we're all still here, we're all still close. Ellanor will most likely not be here. I can tell when she is and I feel a great sense of respect and honour for her, that I do not pull her close in my thoughts - call on her - on days like these just to fulfill my own desires. I don't need to anymore. She's there, not gone, and I'm here. Living.
Today is a day when the clouds will look just that bit more whispy, the bush on the hills more commanding and majestic, the LGBB's face much sweeter, Steve will seem far more vital in our lives. We will be living life today. That's what the anniversary of our memories from today, five years ago, is all about.
When I say "suddenly", I mean.... they phoned us at 7am while we were organising to both come in (wouldn't you know, Steve had decided not to go straight to work that day and detour past the hospital - something he hadn't been doing because he would go in at night after work and sit with her for hours... just looking at her, with me by his side). They - the doctors - were not scrambling in a life-threatening way at this point in the day.
They were getting increasingly concerned by lunchtime. We were on our way out to grab something to eat - still unaware that they were just so worried about her - and we sat at fricken McDonald's (my stomach leaps and punches my solar plexus with an acidic burn every time I pass that particular fast food outlet near the hospital) and ate whilst trying to distract ourselves from the worried looks that had been belying the staff's reassuring "let's just try and figure out what's going on, she's probably 'just' got a virus" gestures.
By mid afternoon, she was dead.
I think that's what shocked me most about Ella's dying - the fact that there was no indication the night before. The fact that even in the morning, though she was very pasty-looking and did not want to open her eyes (like you do when there's bright lights over your head and you are just feeling crap), we were oblivious to this being just SO terribly irreversible.
NEC takes hold so fast. For some premies, they will miraculously survive. With Ella's heart condition the way it was, she was already pushing uphill.
My beautiful big bubba was born to die. I became firmly convinced not long after her death. And I determined back then, I think, without knowing, that I would one day share her story in such a manner that her death itself was not the key point. Certainly not the final fullstop in the book.
And it's not.
A quiet day will be spent today. We're taking the LGBB for a swim, the three of us. Doing things that remind us we're all still here, we're all still close. Ellanor will most likely not be here. I can tell when she is and I feel a great sense of respect and honour for her, that I do not pull her close in my thoughts - call on her - on days like these just to fulfill my own desires. I don't need to anymore. She's there, not gone, and I'm here. Living.
Today is a day when the clouds will look just that bit more whispy, the bush on the hills more commanding and majestic, the LGBB's face much sweeter, Steve will seem far more vital in our lives. We will be living life today. That's what the anniversary of our memories from today, five years ago, is all about.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Boot Camp City, Baby!
More on my adventures up to Peace Space to do Crimson class in a later post (it was so unutterably amazingly well-timed, with its "beginning New Life" information, which has been set in motion in the manuals for months now, was so heartening to hear.. given our current dire situation here in Victoria).
But today, dear reader, I would like you to hold me accountable. For the promises I made last night to my trainer at the gym.
Ho yes, Operation Kick That Flab To The Curb has fired up again in earnest this year by me. I was stalled on the fitness front by the H,F&M for about four months last year - just not up to it, health-wise - and I've made recent starts to get into it again, but when I found out there's a six week intensive going on at the gym I go to... well, I just HAD to sign up!
So. It entails committing to keeping a food diary, increasing my protein (in order to build healthy muscle), resting more, eating more (woo hoo!) and exercising at least three times a week for the next six week - thereby, hopefully, getting back in to my fitness groove of yesteryear and enjoying my previously healthy and fit body and mind. I also had another weigh and measure and am ecstatic to discover another itty bitty loss since my refocus sesh just under two weeks ago. "A loss is a loss", and that's a positive thing when you're talking "weight loss".
My list of goals for this first week:
• To eat every 2-3 hours (ooops, or was it 3-4.... dang!) - I believe this is probably KEY for my weight loss because I can have a coffee for "breakfast", manage to get a few bites of toast in by midday, eat lunch at 4pm and then dinner around 7 o'clock. We don't eat poorly, we just eat weird hours around here!
• Drink more water more often - yes I know. Another key. Key, key, key! I'm good at skolling 1 Litre in the final few hours before bedtime if I think the 3-4 glasses I've had for the entire day wasn't enough.
• At least two more visits to the gym - I've begun getting up at 6am to go in then.
All this, to me, points to my little subconscious self screaming out for some ME FIRST time.
My 6-week end goal is to comfortably fit into the size I am juuuuust squeezing into (I've just reached it after already dropping 3 dress sizes since early November, which I can hardly believe - most of it, don't be letting me fool you or depressing you now, is hormonal fluid). My longer term (3 month?) plan is to drop one more dress size and then I'll be at my ideal.
I'm not too sure about that. I will believe it when I see it. But I seem to have some over-achieving disorder in my brain. I mean, I'm already on the precipice of getting back into the size I was before having the LGBB (I worked really hard after having Ella and scraped my way back down but never fully got rid of those last kilo's from my pregnancy with her).
I cannot keep "blaming" pregnancy hormone weight, although I do maintain that my pregnant-weary body has been thrown into disarray - though cycles have always been so consistent, bless their cotton socks, thankfully - so I plan to be enjoying my newly-shaped smaller bod for at least the remainder of 2009 before giving it back over to any new little sibling that may or may not make it into the LGBB's (and our) life.
My, what a hotch-potch of a post this seems to be. I feel like I haven't written forever, such has been my focus on the fires here. But I need to strike some balance now. Have a decent sleep. Keep praying. Re-stock.
More later...
But today, dear reader, I would like you to hold me accountable. For the promises I made last night to my trainer at the gym.
Ho yes, Operation Kick That Flab To The Curb has fired up again in earnest this year by me. I was stalled on the fitness front by the H,F&M for about four months last year - just not up to it, health-wise - and I've made recent starts to get into it again, but when I found out there's a six week intensive going on at the gym I go to... well, I just HAD to sign up!
So. It entails committing to keeping a food diary, increasing my protein (in order to build healthy muscle), resting more, eating more (woo hoo!) and exercising at least three times a week for the next six week - thereby, hopefully, getting back in to my fitness groove of yesteryear and enjoying my previously healthy and fit body and mind. I also had another weigh and measure and am ecstatic to discover another itty bitty loss since my refocus sesh just under two weeks ago. "A loss is a loss", and that's a positive thing when you're talking "weight loss".
My list of goals for this first week:
• To eat every 2-3 hours (ooops, or was it 3-4.... dang!) - I believe this is probably KEY for my weight loss because I can have a coffee for "breakfast", manage to get a few bites of toast in by midday, eat lunch at 4pm and then dinner around 7 o'clock. We don't eat poorly, we just eat weird hours around here!
• Drink more water more often - yes I know. Another key. Key, key, key! I'm good at skolling 1 Litre in the final few hours before bedtime if I think the 3-4 glasses I've had for the entire day wasn't enough.
• At least two more visits to the gym - I've begun getting up at 6am to go in then.
All this, to me, points to my little subconscious self screaming out for some ME FIRST time.
My 6-week end goal is to comfortably fit into the size I am juuuuust squeezing into (I've just reached it after already dropping 3 dress sizes since early November, which I can hardly believe - most of it, don't be letting me fool you or depressing you now, is hormonal fluid). My longer term (3 month?) plan is to drop one more dress size and then I'll be at my ideal.
I'm not too sure about that. I will believe it when I see it. But I seem to have some over-achieving disorder in my brain. I mean, I'm already on the precipice of getting back into the size I was before having the LGBB (I worked really hard after having Ella and scraped my way back down but never fully got rid of those last kilo's from my pregnancy with her).
I cannot keep "blaming" pregnancy hormone weight, although I do maintain that my pregnant-weary body has been thrown into disarray - though cycles have always been so consistent, bless their cotton socks, thankfully - so I plan to be enjoying my newly-shaped smaller bod for at least the remainder of 2009 before giving it back over to any new little sibling that may or may not make it into the LGBB's (and our) life.
My, what a hotch-potch of a post this seems to be. I feel like I haven't written forever, such has been my focus on the fires here. But I need to strike some balance now. Have a decent sleep. Keep praying. Re-stock.
More later...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Just want to say thanks
Hi there!
I have to confess something.... It's a really crummy week to be a Saucy SITSta, and I am so humbled and amazed at being "chosen" and on that list. Thank you!
But I know the amazing hits on this blog and comments of support are not for me. They are being accepted here as a loving arm extended out to all Australians as we head further and further into our mourning. For there is still far to go yet.
It will be a long while before the shock gives way to acceptance. Thanks so much for continuing to visit and raising awareness!
I have to confess something.... It's a really crummy week to be a Saucy SITSta, and I am so humbled and amazed at being "chosen" and on that list. Thank you!
But I know the amazing hits on this blog and comments of support are not for me. They are being accepted here as a loving arm extended out to all Australians as we head further and further into our mourning. For there is still far to go yet.
It will be a long while before the shock gives way to acceptance. Thanks so much for continuing to visit and raising awareness!
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