A Little Rant

Dear Society,

What happened to the ‘children are our future’ way of thinking? It seems as long as their rearing does not offend or inconvenience us in anyway they ‘can stay’. Have we honestly become so sad to assume it is more ok to walk around baring much more flesh than any breastfeeding mother, even if she was sitting there topless, than it is to feed a child in public? We should ask ourselves is it OK to have people on and off the TV walking around in next to nothing but not OK for a breastfeeding mother to feed her child?

Have we become so self indulged that we assume everybody we meet will feel the same way as we do about breastfeeding in public. Is it not obvious that many may feel uncomfortable with it? How is that an outrage? How difficult is taking a little bit of time or effort to be sure our breastfeeding does not make others uncomfortable , for whatever reason be it reasonable or not in our own minds? Is it so hard to understand that many people have no problem with breastfeeding in itself, but are stricken with a fear that looking in that persons direction may forever brand them pervert? Others are reminded of how they could not breastfeed their own child or their own personal thoughts on modesty and what it means to them. Does it really make them insufferable monsters hell bent on ridding the planet of breastfeeding once and for all?

Have breastfeeding mothers not considered how upset bottle feeding mothers get when the topic turns to breast feeding and we go on about the benefits, some it must be said, in a fascist kind of way. Is it so hard to concede that what works for one does not always work for the other? Have bottle feeding mothers considered that the fact they did not or could not breastfeed does not mean every breastfeeding mother out there is judging them in a negative light? That every breastfeeding mother should not talk about it because it upsets them?

Have we become so self obsessed that as woman, as mothers, we sit around competing about which way is better to feed our children, then to just feed them? About which one of us are ‘better mothers’? It seems to me that for all our their crowing it is more about us, than the child. We should be asking ourselves this question. Is our child getting enough nutrition from what we are feeding them? Be it bottle or breast. Is our child happy and contented? Are we doing the best we can do? Why do we care so much about what another woman does or does not do? Our feelings on that are a reflection on ourselves and no one else!

Why must there be a childfree ‘zone’ be it a restaurant or shopping complex or on areoplanes? It is not always because childless people are evil childhaters. Sometimes, quite often in fact, is it not that many parents seem to think that their child should be able to run freely and do what ever they like? Have we as parents honestly become so delusional that we think everyone finds our children as adorable and precious as we think them to be? That our children deserve to run rampant through a public space because we either want them to have some fun or just want a couple of minutes break from the hard task of parenting?

Have we become so stupid to assume that a child in a public space, or any place, is going to sit still and shut up just because we have a headache, got fifteen minutes out of the office want to do our shopping and have something to eat? Do we honestly think we can disapprove of a parent who dares discipline their child, but expect that children to be well behaved and not be oblivious to the fact that other people should be left in peace.

Must we make people feel bad for their choices? Must we ALLOW others to make us feel inadequate?

Rant over. I hope it makes sense

Rumour Has It

A friend of mine ( who lives in another state) heard some delightful gossip about herself the other day and was telling me all about it on the phone today. I was organising my wardrobe and culling summer things and things I'll never fit into. Like a pair of gorgeous distressed and funky jeans a size too small, if I am to be believed, though My Beloved insists it is more like two sizes too small. 

She is, allegedly, cheating and 'could possibly even have lied about the paternity of one of her children'.

'What the hell?' I demanded, filled with outrage. 'Who the hell said that?' 'Why did they say that?' I asked 'Do I need to get my boots and shovel ready?' I added.  (The last part was a joke so calm down.) 

Even though my friend played it cool and acted like it was funny I knew it would be highly offensive, I mean the questioning her loyalty bit was bad enough, but the paternity of her children? Please. It is almost enough to have you chanting 'Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!' Yes, I have seen an episode or two of his show.

So what words of wisdom did I give her? What soothing words did I choose to dull her pain? Why, all the things I'd heard about myself over the years of course. I mean it is a well known fact that misery loves company and it is always nice to know that others have suffered as you are isn't it? I mean it makes it a little easier to bear. 

As I tried on my millions of pairs of jeans and then shoes and decided which to keep and which to dump on some poor unsuspecting soul. I told her how I was at one time (allegedly) a drunk and could be seen 'staggering around'  which shocked me as I am not a  big drinker, that My Beloved was asked if he and I had been married long and was then told ( with much surprise) that that particular person had assumed he was not the father of all of our children. This person has known me since childhood and if they didn't know this I can only imagine what other people think. I wont even mention the fact they all look alike and much to my never ending disgust look like HIM!! By the end of it I had pretty much done my side of the wardrobe and dresser and had my friend laughing at many other stories.

 "You know," she said after she finished laughing at my suggestion that it was probably a good thing people did not realise how boring I actually am. "They say that strong minds talk about ideas. Average minds talk about things that happen and weak minds discuss people,or something like that any way."

"They also say if you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all!" I said. It is a shame that is not always the case in reality. Later when My Beloved survived the trip home with The Man Child behind the wheel, I told him all about it. 

" Well she should start a rumour about herself, like she cooks a mean roast or knits really well or what ever she likes." he joked as he sat down to dinner. "You know I have been trying to start a rumour about myself for years."

"What?" I asked him.

" That I have a huge penis and I am great in bed." he said straight faced and started eating. "I have never heard it repeated though" he added. "Maybe you should start it for me?" 

" I tell you what," I laughed " I'll put this bit of the conversation in my blog."

"You gotta start somewhere I guess." he said.

Airing Out The Dirty Laundry

I don't know about anyone else but I have never considered it before last night. Now how ever I have clothes in bags but not for the bin. They are going 'out of sight' and hopefully 'out of mind' for a while. The washing pile will never get so large again!! 

Since the rains we received on Australia Day I have finally had a good supply of water. Which is a great thing for a number of reasons but mainly because I could get my washing done. Naturally, of course, once we actually got our power back. My house pump decided that it could no longer stand the rigours of its life and died on me. I kept it pretty cool. I calmly went about monitoring the kids clothing situation, and it is a 'situation' my children, it seems, don't view clothes as something you put on in the morning and then wear until bath time. NO. My children seem to see clothes as something you must immediately discard after wearing it for longer than an hour, if a drop of water, or a speck of food touches them. 

Yesterday I did the washing. Everyday I do the washing, which is not unusual considering there are nine people in the house, tonight, after cuddling a very unsettled Littlest Miss ( she has a cold) and comforting Miss Thinker and Little Miss ( also  cold sufferers) I put another load of washing on (the fifth for the day) when I realised all but MAYBE three of the items were washed yesterday. I lost it.

How fortunate that there was a perfect cartoon strip from Bitstrips  

about laundry over load. I have been catching up on  ours since 

the house pump decided to die last week.  But this is not about that.

Call it sleep deprived. Call it hormonal. Hell, call it crazy. In fact call it whatever you like. I decided there and then that I was effectively stripping everyone of all clothing except for 8 outfits. 'Enough is enough!' I muttered to myself as, the kids had by this stage (10pm) finally fallen to sleep and there was no way I was chancing waking anyone up! I grabbed a roll of garbage bags, after considering dumping all my craft and sewing stuff in the bin to use the storage boxes. My plan was/is simple all clothing excluding undies and socks will be put out of sight and only 8 outfits will be left out. 

Not 8 of each item, oh no, that would still leave too many clothes for the kids to change into. No, I am talking outfits. The dressups are no longer accessible. I am giving it two weeks. What ever we need I will pull out of storage. After a month what ever is left, if not needed or missed goes to charity. I am expecting to never have too much washing again! Hopefully the kids can deal with wearing the same outfit all day. To make matters worse (for my 'Darlings') they will be responsible for putting away and folding their own clothes,after talking to a few mums I have come to realise I am way to lenient when it comes to exactly what the kids have to do when it comes to their clothes... probably the reason why they go through so many outfits a day... wouldn't you say? 

Well I feel better! What about you? What do you do when it comes to clothes and your children? What are your children expected to do when it comes to the folding/putting away of their clothes?

The Breakdown

Every year we go camping at Xmas/New Years. It has been a Family tradition for My Beloved since he was a child ( quite possibly even longer). Usually it is the beach. But this year we all decided to camp at a dam so we could go water skiing and when I say we, I mean some of us. I am not one of them. I am pretty certain I would fall to my death or just fall and get some kind of injury ( I heard about ‘water enemas’ and that pretty much cured me as well!) The last thing I want to do is be camping and injured looking after small children. Oh good lord that would be pure hell, wouldn’t it!

The dam was roughly two hours from our home and after a night and day of warning the kids that we would not be going until they had tidied up and organised their wetsuits. They finally cottoned on to the seriousness of the matter and by 1.30 that afternoon we were on our way.


We stopped to gather some beverage supplies for our New Years Eve at the dam and that was when we got first hint of trouble. As My Beloved was loading an esky with ice and other goodies he received a phone call. His father had broken down and was stuck on the road halfway between us and the dam. To make matters worse it was in the middle of a no service area and he had to give a kind Samaritan our number and that of his daughter as well. They promised to continue calling those numbers until they spoke to someone and informed them of their whereabouts.

“We gotta go. Dads broken down and he is waiting for us in the middle of nowhere.” My
Beloved said to me as I pulled littlest Miss out of her car seat for a feed, she was unimpressed with the restriction of the car seat and it was getting quite hot.

”Oh, OK.” I said “just let me give bub a drink.”Not long after we set off and an hour later we reached the spot. By this time My Father in Law and My Step Mum in Law had been broken down on the side of the road for three hours.

I had been stuck behind a very slow moving car for twenty minutes with no way to over take and I was pretty cranky, I wont lie, had that driver been a fly on the ‘wall’ of my car they would have been slightly hurt by some of the comments I was muttering in their general direction! Littlest Miss had, by this stage, become completely over sitting still and had been crying and trying to get out of her seat for half and hour.




Once we pulled over the girls in  my car and I sat in comfort while everyone else suffered the heat of the day. The ‘men’ all stood around a cooked engine and scratched their heads and discussed what ever it is men discuss whilst standing around an open bonnet. Eventually we decided to meet everyone ( in the process of hooking up the cooked car to tow) in the nearest town, Kingaroy. We enjoyed shade and full mobile reception until they crept into town and left My Father in Law's car with a friend of his and despite his dreams of 'just going home' we all drove the further half and hour or so to the dam and our home for three days. It was not the end of car trouble for that holiday. Not by a long shot!...