It’s all here. Adventures in extreme knitting, the house of poop, and suburban permaculture. You may also find rants about politics, ecology, humanitarianism, responsible living, toe floss, and other topics not covered here. Expect profanity and irreverence. You have been warned.
It’s been a little quiet around here – the big assignment for this semester was due at midnight tonight. I got it in at 11.50pm.
I don’t see an HD on the horizon for this bit of writing!
Perceptions of infidelity in committed relationships correlated with Cognitive Experiential Self Theory.
Phew!
Interesting article in Psychology Today about how our parenting practices are negatively influencing our babies brain development.
Now, if you’ve met me, you would probably think that I am the least shy person in the universe. That I could talk the leg off a donkey, and then convince it to go for a walk. That I am bolshi, and brave, and bossy.
But for a long, long time, I was really shy. Super shy. So shy that I was the butt of every playground joke, and found it almost impossible to make friends. I was a bookish, nerdy, strangely dressed freak, who never cut her hair, never saw the cool tv shows, and even had a weird lunchbox (my mum had this strange drive to put food in there, not junk). I was “that kid”. The one that spent every recess and lunch time in the library. The one that hated going to school so much that I developed a painful cramping condition in response to the stress of going to school. The one that was bullied, and teased, and taunted, and then, eventually just ignored. Invisible.
At the end of year 11, I switched schools. Thanks mum and dad, I know it didn’t seem like it did me much good academically, but socially, I was in a new world.
Nobody knew me, so I could be whoever I wanted. I fronted up at school that first day as an unknown quantity, and became one of the cool kids. Finally, I realised that the only difference between the cool kids and me was that the cool kids acted like they knew everything, were comfortable in every social situation, and always knew how to act. They didn’t of course – but they knew how to pretend. Fake it ’till you make it.
Eventually, I grew up a bit, and didn’t mind being a freak. And I realised that we’re all freaks. And the only difference between the freak in the corner, and the freak on the dancefloor, is that one simple trick. Just keep talking the talk, and one day you’ll find yourself walking the walk.
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Inspired by a link posted by a friend on facebook the other day – How to be More Confident.
“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” will be repealed as of midnight tonight. US time. Sometime around now, thousands and thousands of brave men and women are celebrating the right to be themselves.
We’re all about natural consequences in this house. Don’t put your dirty clothes in a dirty clothes basket? Eventually you will run out of clean underwear. Don’t pack away your toys? Mama will pack them away and she might hide them or put them in the bin.
So I can’t blame anyone but myself for this weekend.
The natural consequence for having done bugger all uni work for half a semester, is that I have until midnight tomorrow night to do two online tests. One for each subject. Worth 10%, and 12% of my total mark.
Between my gorgeous girlfriends, my fabulous in-laws, my amazing parents, and my wonderful husband, I am getting there. One down, the bulk of the work done for the other (with some major revision tomorrow), and I’ll have it done and dusted by tomorrow afternoon.
Thanks also go to my wonderful kid, who had to get used to being away from mama a lot last year, and he bears it well. And I get the most wonderful cuddles when he comes back to me 🙂
Here is a little video I took of him and Mark “reading” a book last week. I thought I was filming earlier, but I missed all the good bits, him sounding out words, and the absolutely priceless expression on his little face when he works it out. He is loving reading to himself a lot now, so I hope I may get a better video soon.
I hope you don’t mind if I call you Freddie.
And thank you Google for the wonderful Google Doodle and video tribute. I want to watch it over and over.
This morning was the Lorien spring fair. I had volunteered to help out the playgroup people with the bread baking activity, and Inigo and Mark painted a t-shirt, made a candle, and did some beading.
Then, Inigo stuck a bead in his ear…
And seven hours later, we got home from the hospital, with the sparkly red bead safely in a specimen jar.
He was so super patient and awesome the the doctor at Westmead Children’s Hospital didn’t even need to give him nitrous while poking about in his head, and it was remarked that even much older kids had trouble keeping still. I pointed out to the doctor that he was the world’s most awesome kid, and thank you for noticing.
So instead of having friends over for a mah-jong night and drinking lads of red wine, we spent a million years in the hospital, feeling guilty for taking up time that could have been spent treating sick people.
But I have a lovely souvenir.
And the world’s best kid. Even if he occasionally sticks things in his ears. And it was shiny.
Today we had a 3rd birthday party, and a 1st. Two parties in one day. A recipe for chaos.
The day started well – see the outfit above.
And the first party was fun. A train theme, with a real train ride, Lebanese pizza, good friends, and happy kids.
Then the cake. And the kids were so excited. They were crowding around. Touching the cake. An adult slapped a child. A little slap. And though I haven’t read “The Slap“, I get it. I don’t quite know how to deal with the ramifications.
Mark had to go to work. We got a parking ticket. Inigo was horribly tired. And over sugared.
So by the time we arrived at the second party, I was at my limit for crap.
Inigo asked for more cake. I said no. He took some anyway. I reminded him of the no more cake edict. He lost his shit and headbutted an antique table. A bump the size of a large grape grew on his head, the screaming could be heard for miles, and I burst into tears and fled into the backyard. There is more (and of course the hot chocolate/airport incident), but you get the drift.
Many of the guests I had not seen in over a year, some not since the funeral, some longer.
How wonderful to make such a spectacular tit of yourself in such a public and irreversible way.
I was told that both my babies were dead. Then that they were both alive. I’d been on bedrest for almost a week, and missing out on the wonderful change in the seasons. Maree made dinner. It was a memorable day.
Today, we went to a local park with friends, ate Lebanese pizza, and then cleaned up loads and loads of broken glass so the kids were safe. Then I sat in the sun and knitted while Inigo and Mark played hide and seek.
Inigo decided today that all of us would die, and then we would find Archie and Aubrey, and then we would all grow up again, and then we would all come home and live happily together.
I think he just invented Buddhism.
A few weeks ago, some fabulous people came over for a crochet day. Most of us learned something (except maybe Andrea – but she was a great teacher), and we all decided to do it again.
The chicks getting our crochet on.
The blokes getting their nerd on.
The event didn’t have a gender divide artificially enforced, but Adam had a work deadline, and Mark is weak when there are laptops around. And Inigo? Any excuse to get his hands on an iPod, an iPod, and iPhone…
So we all had a great time, and vowed to do it again, hopefully on a regular basis. How does Sat 20th suit?
Disco Knitter 