Saturday, October 29, 2011

I think I just learned to {heart} my body




I'm going to be honest here, and say that there are so many things about my body that I want to change, that when I first heard about this, I was all "HELL FREAKING NO!"

Then I watched my Twitter flood with amazing, gorgeous women from around the country stripping down and bearing all.
Reading their stories touched me in a way that all the 'Love your body' ad campaigns did not. And never could.

These women are fabulous. And Gorgeous. But with their photo's came the stories of how their bodies had changed, from their ideal. Yet they are so beautiful.

I think it comes down to the age old tale, of the grass is always greener, of different perspectives and idea's on what the ideal is. On what beautiful is. On what perfect is.

I felt empowered by these women, all baring their insecurities for the world to see.
But at the same time, I felt much like a fraud for even contemplating showing the world all the things I want changed. All the surgeries I would have if the bank account could fund it. When the point is to LOVE my body.

This morning, I chose to embrace myself. Even the bits I hate.


Even Laura who has just gotten out of bed, after being up all night thinking about writing this post, and then was awoken again by kids freaking out over a thunderstorm.

But, as I was intensely studying every shot I took, the memories came flooding back.
The memory that was made with each and every mark, scar, lump, bump and stretch mark.

And I started to feel a little liberated.

When I look down, all I usually see is my disgusting, stretched stomach.
This morning I remembered the story behind each and every stretch mark. And started to love them a little.
I remembered just why I look like the saggy baggy elephant, when Mousie was born, tearing a muscle in my stomach that can only be repaired with surgery, so now it kinda hangs, one side lower than the other.


The boobs no woman should have ever been blessed with.
They simply are not practical, and yes, as Glowless said, F stands for Faaarrr out they are huuuuuge!!! 
They no longer sit where I would like them to, and pretty much have a mind of their own, but they have managed to nourish all 3 of my babies and give them a great start to life.
And occasionally, just sometimes, you find a dress that they look KILLER in! But only sometimes.


This is the shot, that has really left me shaking. That makes me feel nauseous. That I really can't believe I even took, let alone am about to show the world.
But his all about embracing me. The me that I am, not the me that I want to be, used to be or wish I was.


Lumps, bumps, scars and stretched. This is me.
My body has done some amazing things. And for that, I need to give it a little more credit, and be a little more proud of it.






It is so easy for me to sit here and admire all the amazing semi naked women floating around the inter webs today, but it's so much harder for me to sit back and applaud myself for joining them.

Here's to the sisterhood ladies.
To embracing ourselves.
To our uniqueness.
To our journey.
To our individual beauty.

I think I may kinda {heart} my body now.






 

Friday, October 28, 2011

Wearing Red, Sharing Empowerment | A day for Daniel



This weekend I will be wearing red.

This weekend I will be helping to empower my children, and yours, by participating in the Day For Daniel walk.

This morning the kidlets and I made our television debut!
We stood up ( and ducked down and danced around, you know what 2 years olds are like) and talked about just WHY this day is so important.

And we looked nothing short of idiots I'm sure. But it was for a damn good cause, so what the hell.

Today I ask you, if you know of a Day For Daniel walk taking place, please join in. Please wear red. And please pop a measly $2 in the box and grab yourself a wrist band, or pen.

It doesn't take much to empower our children. To help to keep them safe. You have just been willing to do not much, rather than nothing.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Only In The Country

Last week, I was picking up my babiest sister, AKA, pumpkin, from the train station She regularly escapes boarding school and comes to stay and annoy the shit out of me.

I had to make an unscheduled stop, just to take a picture of this!





I'm sure I looked the dodgiest bitch on earth as I pulled into the driveway, parked, got out, snapped the picture, and then drove off again.
And the pumpkin of course was dying of embarrassment!  Apparently that's just not cool to 16 year olds. Pfft, what to do they know anyway.

I occasionally take my kids to McDonalds. But ever say I have taken my sheep.

How about you?

Whilst the one horse town can be dull, there are some experiences you can only get here.


Tuesday, October 25, 2011

How to buy more shoes | A tip on saving money

Sponsored by Nuffnang

The day I married The Farmer and had a tribe of kids, I kissed goodbye all my dreams of owning a Mini Cooper. At least for the next 15 years.

I had visions of tripping across the country, stopping in for replenishment at Jimmy Choo regularly, and walking along every beach I could find.

The reality is rather shocking in comparison.

Instead of my little green, blue or red (I'm really not fussy) Mini, I now drive a truck! A great big giant white truck in the form of a Toyota Prado. I must say though, as far as car's that can fit my family in them go, my truck was on the top of my list. We can all climb in, and pack all our essentials (prams, bags, port-a-cots, hundreds of dollars in groceries) into the back and still have loads of room. And at least it's a truck, rather than a bus. I don't do bus.

One thing about owning a truck, however, is you need to take out a mortgage to fuel the damn thing!
As the farmer say's, "how can they charge this much for bloody diesel, its just shit fuel anyway".

Well farmer darling, have I got a treat for you.

One thing about the truck, is that it has this awesome little screen inside that tells you all sorts of important stuff, like the outside temperature so you know when to send someone else into the shop, and it has the reversing camera, but it also tells you the fuel consumption, on average, and since you last refuelled. It is amazing to watch the difference in consumption from Diesel bought at different places.

Now you see, The farmer thinks I'm full of it. That it's all the same. That it's different driving conditions that make the difference. (he is wrong by the way!)

I was recently given the scoop on the new Caltex Vortex Premium Diesel.

It has all these great claims, a few of which really tickled my fancy like having anti foaming agents so that it's not so messy when you fuel up. Which is great for me, because I spend way to much money on lovely perfume that all too often get masked by the smell of Diesel.

But, like your regular Premium Fuels, it helps to clean your engine.

Engine? I hear you, I know, this Laura Land, not Top Gear, but let's get a little perspective on this.

Using good Quality fuel, such as Caltex Vortex Premium Diesel, which I would like to add is an AUSTRALIAN FIRST, means a cleaner engine, which means less trips to the garage. It means better fuel economy, which means less fueling up. It means better start up and acceleration, which means that all you rev heads out there can kick some butt at the traffic lights, or us mum's can get straight in and go when we're running late on the school pick up.

But what it means for me, is that I spend LESS money. More money stays in my pocket, freeing our family budget, and waiting for the day that it gets spent on a Mini Cooper. My truck is driving around smiling.

My biggest decision now, is if it's worth telling the farmer to prove him totally wrong about fuel all being the same, or to keep him in the dark so I can spend our new spare cash on shoes. And a Mini Cooper.

Friday, October 21, 2011

A family of super mutants | HNPCC the facts

I am a mutant.

Not me personally, but my insides are.

Well not my insides as such, but my DNA.

I have mutant DNA.

Yeah, that's it.





It's the easiest way to describe it. Otherwise I would have to use all kinda of stupid words that people can't actually read and have no idea of the meaning.

I am from a HNPCC family. Hereditary non polyposis colon cancer. HNPCC.

It's amazing what a few little letters can mean to your life.

What it means for me, in a very shortened version, is that when cell's renew themselves, ours may put a misprint in. Instead of ABCD our's might decide to be a little random and throw in a Z. Just for the hell of it.

When all these Z's build up, it forms a tumour. Voila. Cancer.

Here are a few stats:

*HNPCC is a dominantly inherited susceptibility to bowel cancer and other cancers including caner of the uterus, ovary, stomach, small intestine, real pelvis and ureter.

* HNPCC Carries have an 80% lifetime risk of bowel Cancer.

* For women, there is a 40% lifetime risk of cancer of the womb and a 10% lifetime risk of ovarian caner.

* A small increase, both men and women, in the risk of cancer of the small bowel, stomach, pancreas and kidneys and ureters.

Pretty scary shit, when you read it like that.

This is what my mum passed away from. It pretty much just attacked her entire body, and even after loads of surgeries and chemo, she was still riddled with it. It was everywhere except her brain, which they thought would be it's next point of attack.

I am lucky. In a sense. I know that it can happen, so I get regular screening. Early detection of any kind of cancer is the key!!!  I can be aware of the signs. I can take precautions.

I always knew I was different. I just didn't think that my DNA was going to jump on the bandwagon too.

Please note that is VERY RARE, and there are very few people with this mutation, but if you happen to know another mutant, I would love to hear from them. Let's raise awareness so these families and sufferers know they aren't alone.

If you would like to know more, and all the technical terms visit The Cancer Council

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Thankful Thursday

According to Kate Says Stuff today is Thankful Thursday

Today I am thankful for Rubbish Collection.

To many, that may be a bit random. But since moving back to town I have a new appreciation for the smaller things in life. The things that I had previously taken for granted.

Having a person rock up to my house and take my rubbish away is certainly one of my highlights of town. Not to mention having a big bin to store it in all week.

When you live in the middle of nowhere, you have to sort your rubbish between 'burnables' and 'non burnables'.
The Burnables get carted down the back to a big drum, and, well, burned. Obviously.
The non burnables have to sit around in another drum and wait for a day they either annoy the farmer enough to finally move, or I harp on enough for him to seek some form of silence and he moves them.

I am now an awesome recycler, because they provide me with the bin, and have this strong urge each week to take a plate of scones out to the garbage man and thank him for coming by!

Also on my list of thankfulness since moving from the farm is

* Fly screens on all the windows

* Water every time I turn on a tap

* A frog free kitchen/lounge room/bedroom

* A mouse free home

Some call it easy pleased, I call it appreciating the little things.  

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

What's your whinge? Wednesday.

It's whats your whinge Wednesday.
The one day of the week that you can whinge freely to your hearts content.
Ahhh, feels good doesn't it?


As it's breast cancer awareness month this October, my whinge is all about boob's.

Big and small. It doesn't seem to matter. Men love them all. Women always want what they don't have.

I am no exception to this rule.

There is a reason that breast reduction surgery exists. And I am it.

Please welcome to the floor my 12 F or sometimes G breasts.

It seems that this letter/number combination is unheard of in most lingerie shops. And shop assistants are ever so apologetic about it as they try and squeeze you into something else so they can make a sale.
 Boob hanging out the side? No worries, you cant even notice it!

Bra cutting your boob in half, that's also find too apparently.

And that whole I-don't-actually-have-two-breasts-its-just-one-big-shelf look, totally in at the moment!

 Trying to find ANYTHING that fit's is a hassle.
Then try and find it in something that doesn't look like a hand me down bra from your grandmother.

The shop assistants always have this knack of making me feel like more out of proportion than I feel. 

"wow, you have a really small back to be carrying those around'

Lady, Don't I know it! Hence the pain. The hunch. The shrinking vertebrae.

They wobble when I walk. They bounce when I dance. And don't even think about running, jumping, or doing the worm.


I am putting a call out today, to all lingerie companies, MAKE ME SOMETHING THAT IS HUGE BUT PRETTY!!!!


And to clothing companies, please, I beg you, make me clothes that fit my bust, but taper in small enough to fit my size 12 rest of body, so i no longer have to look like I constantly wear a potato sack.

And to all you wankers who go and get yourself enhanced to this size, Grow a brain, seriously.






Tuesday, October 18, 2011

What to do with an elephant...

Schnorbies class has an elephant. A patchwork elephant that was left to them by a student teacher who obviously has never had kids because the 'task' with the elephant, is for everybody to take it home for two nights, and write a story about the time they spent with 'pheobe'.

Basically its blogging by 8 eight year olds and an elephant.

We are lucky, as Phoebe has only been to two other homes before us. Pretty mundane homes I must add.

So I'm thinking, The Ruh's can totally raise the bar on this whole babysit an elephant and blog about it thing.

So I ask, what would you do with a patchwork elephant if she came to stay at your place?

Monday, October 17, 2011

A letter to Wommy.

To My Darling Fletcher,

I am writing this to you as you nap. The last nap you take as a 3 year old.
Your 4 year b'day cake baking in the oven. This year we are baking a rainbow cake. You are so super excited, as you are about everything in life.

Each and every day you make me fall more and more in love with you, or maybe you just make me fall in love with you again each day. Either way, you could never possibly understand how much joy you bring to my life, how happy you make me, how proud of you I am.

This time 4 years ago, you were already slowly making your entrance into the world, and we should have known from those few days, that you would spend your life doing it your way. But as you have taught us, the journey is all part of the fun.


Thank you for being so bright eyed. For showing me the world, your world, in a whole new light, a way that I would never have seen without you.



Thank you for teaching me about tractors and trains and mud and farming. I have enjoyed listening to every word and watching your knowledge grow.





Thank you for being the most caring and gentle big brother in the world.





And the coolest little brother out.






Thank you for always taking care of me, and being the 'man of the house' whenever daddy has to go away for work. I appreciate you offering to light the fire for me, to cut me wood, and to take the rubbish out. I didn't say no because I didn't think you could do it, but because I think your time is better spent playing. And perhaps because of law. But I promise when you have had a few more birthdays I will let you do all of that.

The next year is going to be an exciting one for you, with starting pre-school and learning lots of cool stuff and making new friends. I am a little sad that this day has come. Knowing that I only have one more year with you beside me each and every day, all day, before you go to big school. But I promise I wont cry too much tomorrow.

It's been good fun being 3 hasn't it?



Happy birthday my little man, I love you more than the stars in the sky.

<3 mummy

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday, October 16, 2011

How it feels to be an amputee

I love my new house. I just have one whinge. One small whinge.

There is no spot for my PC.

At the moment I have been shoved into a teeny tiny corner in my bedroom. Which is OK for short term computer sessions, if you are the type of person that knows what they are.

I don't.

I have been sitting pretty, leaning up against my bed, surfing away. Today, I did that with my legs crossed.

Bad Bad Bad move. My entire leg went numb. Totally numb. I couldn't feel a thing, and wondered why there was always so much fuss on shows like Rescue: Special Ops, when its all too common that they have to amputate a limb without anaesthesia, seriously guys, just sit on it for a bit, the patient won't feel a thing!

Once I realised that I had lost all blood flow to my foot, I tried to lay down on the floor. It's a seriously odd feeling. And because I couldn't actually place my leg in an appropriate position, it landed where ever the hell it wanted to.

Which happened to be on my keyboard. And whatever bloody button it hit, has made everything on my screen tiny.  And I cannot work out how to get it back to normal!

I think the world is telling me its time to buy a laptop.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

I'm cool with sharing. Really, I am.

My Pop came over for a visit today. He packed up his shit into his little Holden Rodeo that he has owned since forever and embarked on the 300km journey to my love shack. Huge points to him at his 66 years of age for even thinking about it, let alone making it.


My pop is a champ. Seriously. I love him to bits.


And I gotta say, he kinda loves me a little too.


Actually, I used to always be his favourite. Terrible I know, considering I have sisters and cousins, but it didn't worry me in the slightest.


This pedestal I was placed on meant I never had to catch the bus to school. EVER. He picked me up each and every morning of my schooling life.


It meant that I always got shit hot Xmas presents, including, but not limited to, Stereo's, jewellery, and later in life washing machines and dining tables.


There is just one really shitty thing about being the favourite.


The day you have kids.


All of a sudden your sharing the pedestal with these chocolate stained, sticky fingered creatures. NOT COOL.

Before you know it, the visits are not to catch up with you, but to pick one of the said sticky fingered creatures up and take them somewhere cool.

Sharing the pedestal can be hard going, but watching the relationship between my chocolate stained sticky fingered creatures and my favourite man in the world warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes.

I am watching love grow. Life long memories be made. Just like they were with me.

However, at times, I still just really want to push them off.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Baby I was born this way!!

I don't dress like most people you know.

I don't like things that other people have.

I don't live the way most people do.

I don't raise my kids the way you might.

I don't believe in the things that you do.

I have a religion that is all my own. I don't ask you to follow it. Or believe it. Just accept it.

I stand up for my beliefs. And that includes only eating free range animal products. That does not make me a hippy. And doesn't mean I expect you to do the same.

I don't like meat. Get over it.

I am not like any other person you have ever met.

I am not different. I am unique. And I am me. A me that is comfortable in my own skin. That knows who I am and am OK with it.

You have two choices. Love me or hate me. I don't mind which. But don't ever try to change me.


Mrs Ruh's Apple and Cinnamon Tea Cake.

60g Butter, Softened
1/2 cup of Castor sugar
1 egg
A good lashing of Vanilla
1 cup of SR flour
1/2 cup of milk
At least 2 apples, grated of diced
Cinnamon

Preheat your oven to moderate (180/160 for fan forced) and prepare your cake tin. I used a simple standard round cheapy.

Beat the butter sugar egg and vanilla until its all nice and light and creamy, then slowly add sifted flower and a teaspoon or two of cinnamon. Beat until smooth.

Fold in your apple until combined.

Chuck it all in the cake tin, and pretend to be all perfectionist while you smooth out the top and make sure its somewhat even.

Bake until its springy, or skewer comes out clean, or in my case whack a butter into the centre and if it slides on out with nothing on it, then baby your done. This should take about 25 minutes.

Melt a little butter and spread over the top, sprinkle a little sugar and cinnamon, and be sure to devour a slice while its still warm with a cup of tea.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Mrs Masterchef

I have these moments, of clouded insanity, and bad judgement, where, for some strange reason, I actually think I can bake.

I get all Donna Hay meets Women's Weekly over lunch with the old CWA ducks.

I defy what the recipe tells me to do. I, Laura, defy what the CWA cookbook is telling me to do!! Who do I think I am? Do I not realise that these women are using recipe's from years gone by, passed down through generations of farmers wives that bake each day during harvest? They have been perfected to perfection, you can't improve on perfect, simply irresistible and the likes?

Well, call me a rebel. I am the non conforming, hippy loving, married to a farmer but not a farmers wife chicky who thinks she knows better! That's who!

Now there's a recipe for your CWA cookbook ladies!

Today I have this urge to bake.  And not conform.

Here's to hoping my new creation works, and if it does, I just might put out a cookbook.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Road Trippin Sunday

Over the weekend, we decided to do a little exploring. Go off the beaten track you may say. Literally.




No mobile service. No radio signal. Thank god we found a pub!

And a sweet little school in the middle of nowhere. No,  really in the middle nowhere, not even a town! You pass paddocks, hit a school, and then continue past paddocks.
But they did have super sweet wall!




We found hidden away wet lands, full of bird life. Crops that were shit according to the farmer, and connected with our inner bush lovers. Mine took a while to find!

Anyhow, we did come across these little lovelies, which we don't see too often at this stage in their lives. I wasn't game enough to get out of the car to take any better shots because the parents have a tendency to get all protective and psycho bitch on your arse, and just randomly run at you!
 



 
 
I wont bore you with my whole weekend in one hit, but, I will tell you that I found an old woolshed FULL of GORGEOUS old 'stuff'. So, watch this space if you want to see some of yesteryear that was simply up and left!