May 25, 2011

A Letter To Myself (Yes, I've gone nuts)

Dear 23 year old Cate,

Well. You're married now. You've done it. Chosen your life partner. I'll save you the 'you're too young' lectures. You're still with him, after all, so you must not have made too bad a choice.
And no, I still have no idea who that woman in jeans and bright jumper was outside the church, running around taking photos of you all. You should have put your specs on so you could see her better. The Husband still has no clue who she was either, in fact it's a wonder he remembers the day at all. He's old now. I'm not going to tell you what you should have done differently about your wedding, you already know. But try not to start too many sentences with "Next time I get married..." over the coming years. Although it keeps him on his toes, The Husband does get a bit tired of it.
You're in for a bit of a shock. You're going from living at home, having all the cooking and washing done for you, to now having a house, a husband and a kitten, all looking at you for clean floors, clean clothes and sustenance. Don't worry, just ignore the floors, shove some clothes in the washing machine once a week and hope for the best, and remember, a can of tuna will feed both man and beast.
By the way, wear nothing but mini-skirts for the next seven years. You are currently quite thin and have fucking awesome legs. This will not always be the case. In fact, you could use a few extra kilos right now, you were far too thin on your wedding day, so much so that several of your friends were thinking the time had come for an anorexia intervention. Not to worry though. Obviously, you'll beat your 'too skinny' issues in the future. Emphatically.
It won't be long before babies are on your mind. Constantly. When your best friend has a daughter and asks you to be godparents, your ovaries will almost explode with unbridled enthusiasm. You'll read books, you'll learn about ovulation and how soon before or after you should have sex, and you'll spend so much time on your back with your legs in the air (during and after) that you think about having someone paint some Sistine Chapel-like murals on your bedroom ceiling to give you something to look at.
You will be disappointed. Downhearted. You will cry. But you will persist. After 16 months, you will cry again, but this time with joy. You'll cheer and celebrate, you'll tell everybody you love, and you'll throw away Michelangelo's business card. You will glow. For a while. At 12 weeks you'll cry again. Uncontrollably. You'll be rushed into the horror of Queen Vic hospital and you will curse and swear that both choice number 1 (Calvary) and choice number 2 (Burnside) were fully booked on the day your doctor could find no tiny heartbeat. The day you discovered the horrible medical term 'missed abortion'. The day you saw your medical record state Pregnancies:1 Children:0, and knew that would not change any time soon. The day your world stopped.
It will start again though. But be prepared. Because now everyone knows. You'll have to put up with insensitive "Are you pregnant yet?" questions. Over and over. You will want to punch people. Every day. Every day for yet another 16 months. Oh, and all the people who keep saying "well at least you know you can get pregnant", they mean well but.... yeah, you'll want to punch them too.
But guess what? You'll have a happy, healthy baby boy. You'll get mastitis and have cracked and bleeding nipples, but you'll persist and breastfeed anyway. It would be a waste not to. Your boobs will be enormous and squirting milk everywhere. You'll go on a hen's night when he is only about six weeks old and offer to make a milkshake dessert for the entire restaurant. They will decline.
Your son won't sleep and he'll bite your nipples and poop straight out the side of the cheap nappies your husband bought when you told him to buy Huggies, only Huggies, you dimwit, why didn't you listen, it's not hard, I said Huggies, but he will look so cute when he smiles that you won't kill him. I mean your son. You're still debating offing the Husband.
You'll decide when your son is about 17 months old that since it appears that you may only be able to get pregnant once every 16 months, that you should start trying for another baby. The Husband will be shattered when the planets align on the very first attempt and his services are no longer required. Ever.
You will have a happy, but not quite as healthy baby girl. She will be gorgeous and feed well and be a much better sleeper, but you will discover exactly what a paediatric urologist does over the next 10 or so years. And it ain't pretty.
Your kids will make you cry, roll your eyes, yell and laugh. And that's all before breakfast.
Your Husband will also make you cry, roll your eyes, yell and laugh. And that's all before you get out of bed.
Don't worry too much about money. You'll be okay. Eventually. Though I'll give you a heads up to save yourself a few bucks, I wouldn't bother buying the treadmill, the Epilady or the Footspa. Or any of that lacquered pine furniture. Really, don't do it.
That'll do for now, it's a lot to absorb, I know.
I'll write again soon to warn you about the school years. What an education. For you, I mean, not your kids.

Love from 46 year old Cate.
Shit, I'm twice your age now? When the fuck did that happen....??

May 18, 2011

What On Earth Are They Looking For?

I am so sorry, I have been a very slack blogger buddy lately. I haven't written much, I haven't read much and I have hardly left any comments, apart from the odd snort here and there.
Bad me.
I even have three real, made-of-paper books (remember them?) on the go at the moment, and am making almost zero progress. In fact, I may have to go back to the beginning of the fiction novel to start again.
Bad bad me.
I have done zero blog maintenance and have only just had a look at new followers today (and I think they date back to January).
Bad bad bad me.

One thing I do happen to check on now and then, is what words are the search keywords that bring people to my blog, and it continually begs the question...
What on earth are they looking for?

Some are obvious, some less so.

Like : "international steampunk city"
Yeah... I have no idea either.

And : "brĂ¼no film swinging penis"
Right. Okay. He's not on here.

Then there's : "cartun sixy on the bed"
Say what?

And : "guy wearing on a condom on his erect penis"
Speaks for itself, but also not on here. This is a vasectomy household.

There was : "big cock in posy"
Err, no, don't remember seeing one of those in my bunch of flowers.

And : "the story of easter"
Self-explanatory, but boy, I bet they were disappointed. Mine was blasphemous.

And this : "fuicing white gril"
Right. Uh-huh. Just a tad dyslexic?

The only one I've had lately that makes any sense to me is "big bouncy boobs".
Well. Duh.

May 15, 2011

As Winter Approaches....

As Winter approaches ever so slowly, this is what's in my garden....

Well, the spider was in my garden.... RIP Aragog.

May 14, 2011

We Have A Winner

This is how I looked all day Friday.

Since Blogger was in a coma all day yesterday I was unable to post about my worst parenting moment and announce the winner of the Anonymums book giveaway.

This is just a quickie to let you all know the winner is....

Me N My Monkeys.

Congrats Jane, the book will be heading your way next week.

Thanks to everyone who entered and hopefully if Blogger stays alive I will share my bad parenting story with you on Monday.

May 9, 2011

Monday Catch-Up....

Hello Monday, we meet again. I'll keep this brief, as it appears that I have a bit of a post Mother's Day headache, despite only drinking three glasses of wine. I think it's from staring at my shiny new toy all day.

Someone suggested I try cooking with it instead of staring at it, but I was under the impression it was an ornamental thing of beauty for decorative purposes only, and the silver part was just a pretty dustcatcher.

Anyway, it's been a mad week and weekend so I just have a couple of reminders.

Firsly, go check out my interview with an American blogger, my mate Lazarus at The LG Report.
I do apologise for representing my fellow Australians in such a manner, but I may have yanked his chain once or twice and it was a lot of fun. And I'm sure you expect nothing less from me anyway.
Head over there, give him a follow, and leave a nice comment. You may or may not wish to admit you know me, that's up to you.

Secondly, don't forget my Anonymums book giveaway which ends this Friday 13th (again, cue spooky music). Go to the post and leave a comment telling us your worst parenting moment and you'll be in the running.

Have a great week and I'll be back on Friday to tell you my worst parenting blunder and announce the winner. If it was truly a 'worst' comp, I think I might beat you all....

May 5, 2011


Okay, two out of three of those headlines are accurate.

Yes, I have a giveaway.

Yes, there is a truth or dare element involved.

But no, I still don't know who the Anonymums are. Damn.

The Anonymums very kindly gave me two books, one to read, spill wine and smear chocolate on, the other one to keep. No, wait, I have that wrong. The one I have kept in pristine condition, apart from a layer of dust, is to GIVE AWAY. YAY!

Just so you know what you're getting, here's a little taste...

"Most days, I feel like a zombie - a mindless, animated slave to two needy, demanding kids (my hunger, however, is not for human flesh, but for easy recipes with only two canned ingredients)" ~ Mum A

"Now I find myself considering wasting one of my Three Magic Wishes on a washing-up fairy. When I was young - that is, before children - had a genie puffed out of a bottle offering me the three things I most desired, I'd have gone for money, sex and chocolate. Now - and I think about this a lot - it's all about chores, babysitting and, oh yes, chocolate." ~ Mum B

"This is what my life has become. You see, motherhood has imposed on me far too much sense, and sensibility. They came along two years ago as I pushed out the placenta and took away with it all the frivolousness that I had been cultivating for 27 years. No longer can I justify spending a fortune on ridiculously uncomfortable boots. Instead, I spend a fortune on ridiculously expensive bits of plastic that make annoying noises, shrill crooning and overly-enthusiastic renditions of the alphabet that you simply cannot tune out." ~ Mum C

The book is the culmination of a real life game of Truth or Dare concocted by 3 suburban mothers who were, let's face it, bored, and needed to put a bit of spark back into the long days of mothering young children.

For 3 months Mums A, B and C dared each other to do things and to tell each other the truth about motherhood, their lives, and about who they'd become compared to who they wanted to be.

You will definitely laugh, you might shed a tear and you may even cringe with sympathy, but mostly you will enjoy a bloody good read, and find yourself wondering "Shit, would I do that? Could I do that? Would I tell someone that? Could I be that honest? Have I got any chocolate in the pantry?"

If you would like to win this clean (I promise) copy of Anonymums, you must rise to a challenge set by none other than the Anonymums themselves...

Tell us the truth about your worst-ever mothering moment. Not the ‘bad mother’ moments that only good mothers recognise, but that moment when you thought to yourself ‘I am truly the worst mother in the world’. Go on. Confession is good for the soul.

We should know.

Make sure you are following this blog and leave a comment below revealing your Truth to the Anonymums and me. I swear we won't tell anyone else. Hah.
If you are not a regular (and why aren't you?) or not well known to me, make sure you also leave an email address or Twitter ID name so I can contact you if you win.
The winner will be drawn by that random thingy or I'll get drunk and pull a name out of a hat. I'm sure either will do.

You have until 4pm on Friday 13th (oooooh, spooky)

So, get honest, and good luck!

And why is there wine, Tim Tams and red lipstick in the photo, I hear you ask? When you read the book, you will know.....


Related Posts with Thumbnails