Sunday, May 27, 2012

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Rule #1 - Always look your best. You never know when you have to do canteen duty.

I am generally one to dance in the rain.

But today, its too cold to dance.

The munchkins had soccer and I was hinting all morning that it was too cold/wet/muddy/miserable to be out.

They didn't buy it. And really didn't care if I told them it was literally going to rain down cats and dogs on their heads and their noses would drop off from the icy wind, they were going to soccer regardless.

The downfall of that is that they need two parents to attend as they play on opposite sides of the giant fields.

I was smart enough to hatch a plan. After last night, I'm not sure how I managed to think so quick on my feet, but I did. (if you follow my facebook page, you will know why).

Little mousie and I will stay in the car, and watch the big girl play, while The Farmer goes over with the little man. Awesome.

But as we all know, well laid out plans never go to, well, plan.

Off we go to soccer. No need to get dressed, because I'm not getting out of the car, so these old trackies with the paint splatters will be fine. No need to brush my hair because I'm not getting out of the car, throwing it up in a big clip will do. No need to hide the giant bags under my eyes from the shenanigans last night, because I'm not getting out of the car.

All was well.

Until I arrive.

And am informed that the under 6's team is on canteen duty. Are you kidding me?

I almost died at that point. Until I was told that the under 10's team is too.

Double canteen duty. When I look like a bogan. Thank you world. Thank you very much.


I like to end my posts in a question. But today, I got nothing. Because I'm sure I'm the only person stupid enough to leave my house looking the way I did. 

Friday, May 25, 2012

Punching air rather than my husband




Its a cold freezing day. Freezing freezing. And a bit rainy. And lots of freezing.

Which means we are all in the house. Together. No escape. And its beginning to feel claustrophobic. Or like I'm in an episode of 'Big Brother'. Because surely, people couldn't possibly be attempting to piss me off this much if it's not for others entertainment and *quality viewing*.

I cannot win a trick today. Not one.

And that is mostly due to The Farmer being a shit stirring prick really lovely person.

All I am hearing is blah blah blah. I'm sure there are words in there, but they are far from important.




For today at least.


Think I'm over exaggerating?

"Farmer, you really need to do your tax. Its annoying me. And the lovely people at centrelink keep reminding that you have until the end of June, so please, go and do it. Its not that hard".

Cue whinging tone.

"Well have you made me an appointment?"

At no point did I realise I had taken on the role of secretary.

"Why cant you make your own appointment? After all, you know when your available!"

This is where the farmer told me all about how he was SOOOO organised to go, he is just waiting on me to make the appointment for him. Because, clearly, he cant use a phone.

This is the point that I started laughing, secretly under my breath, because it was the biggest joke I had ever heard! I snuck off outside, thinking, knowing, that I could totally win this. With one little phone call.

I pulled out the life saving iPhone, and googled accountants in town. I called. I got him an appointment for that afternoon. In an hour.

I was punching air! I am the QUEEN! Never speak to me like that Farmer and blame me for your lazy arse.

I came back inside and told him to grab all his stuff that he has so organised because he has an appointment in an hour. He accused me of lying.
The reason he accused me of lying, is because he was calling the accountant at the same time and they told him they had no bookings that day. power of woman!
He ranted, and raved actually, about how much of a liar I was. I laughed hard. And told him to sit and watch me cancel his appointment. Which I promptly did.

His jaw dropped.

The secretary laughed herself silly.

I punched air again.



Now I sit here. On top of the world. Or mine, at least.











Have you ever had a win so good, that it filled your heart with glee?

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Top 10 meals to cook when you can't be stuffed cooking.


We all have those nights, when we have no idea what we are going to cook for dinner, no inspiration, no motivation, no time, no care. Dont pretend you dont know what i'm talking about! I'm on to you!

I have these days at least one out of the seven in the week. I used to blame it on the fact that I was at home all day and didnt want to step foot in the kitchen again, but since starting work, and still having those days, I have realised that its just a wonderful personality trait I have, the "can't we eat ethopian" trait, or "couldnt give a stuff trait" which often flows over into more areas of my life than just cooking.


So here is my  Top 10 Things To Cook When You Cant Be Stuffed Cooking.



#1. Pasta, of any kind. Takes 20 mins and your done!
If your feeling really lovely, whack a garlic bread in the oven and grate some cheese. The best part is, if your cooking for kids, you can get this awesome koala shaped pasta that will make any shitty pasta meal look gourmet to anyone under 10. Trust me.

#2. Any type of meat you have, (except maybe fish), thrown in the oven with a can of tomatos. Add mashed potato and voila, baby you made a casserole!

#3. As above, but throw in some curry powder. replace mash with rice, and voila, baby you made a curry!

#4. Tacos. Nuf said.

#5. Fried rice. So quick, so simple, and make enough for lunch boxes the next day!

#6 Gourmet Toasted Sandwiches. Slap your awesome ingredients and some basil/ cranberry jely/ nice cheese on some bread and toast.

#7. Shepherds pie. Mince, veg, tomatos, gravox, mashed potato on the top. If your feeling fancy, add a layer of grated cheese between the mince and spud.

#8. A cup a soup. Your welcome.

#9. Pancakes. Mmmm

#10. My personal favourite, you make your husband take you out for tea! Or order pizza. Winning.



What do you cook when you can't be arsed to cook at all?

Monday, May 21, 2012

Soul days should be like sick days - paid!

Lately, I have been feeling a little like this.











A puppet on a string, with no control over myself any more. My decisions, my actions, my voice, being a command of someone else.



I usually live my life like this.







Like a free spirited dancer, who's voice will not be muffled. I will roar, I stand up for my beliefs, and I dance, no matter how much shit the world throws at me. I make my own decisions, my own actions, I am in control of my own destiny.


Today, I have taken a day off to think about all of this. To find my feet again, in a crazy world, filled with crazy pain the arse people.


To say that I solved my issues would be a lie. But I do know one thing.









I need to get back to this. I need to regain my zen. Then clarity will come.

Wont it?






Have you ever had to take a day off for the sake and health of your soul?

Saturday, May 19, 2012

I'm going to Hell. Fo Shizzle.



Ever get that distinct feeling that you are going to hell?

I sometimes do, like when Ive been a truly horrible person, or stayed out way too late binge drinking on Saturday nights, or after the rare occasions I swore at my dad as a teenager (I still stand by the fact that he deserved every word it, each time).

But this time its different. This time, I can almost bank on the fact that I'm going to hell. Its a safe enough bet, that I can start planning my wardrobe for the occasion, and making like fated friends, so I'll have someone to chat to while I'm there. And binge drink with on a Saturday night.





My trip to hell is so cemented into my future that I can now pretty much do as I please without any fear of the consequences. Not that I was too concerned of the consequences anyway, but you know, its like when your a kid at Christmas time and you've hung out with all the cool kids all year going "Yeah, Santa's a total crock of shit, I SOOO don't believe". Then on Christmas eve you lay in your bed, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can, repeating the mantra "I do believe in Santa, I do believe in Santa".

Yes, No holy mantras shall be leaving my lips.

I know what your thinking. You think I have either lost my shit, or my mind.

Let me tell you, I have not lost my mind, but I very nearly did lose my shit!! And in hindsight, or as some might say reflection, I probably should have. But I was probably still worried of consequences then.

After all, abusing the shit out of a priest is not a polite thing to do. And it will probably send you to hell.

But, I have this distinctive feeling, that a priest abusing the living shit out of me, has put me on the highway to hell anyway!

On the bright side, I would rather be polite and send my apologies to the priest for not being able to make a meeting at 7.30pm when The Farmer is away and no one can watch the kids, than be making an apology to DOCS for being the shit parent that left 3 kids home alone for an hour.



Have you had a run in with a priest?

If you want a drink in hell, I'll be the one propping the bar up!




Just so you know, I did try to rectify this situation by speaking to the school, and I almost, briefly toyed with the idea, of going to confession, but concluded I wouldn't be doing myself any good, somehow I don't think "forgive me father for I have sinned, a priest was disgustingly rude to me and spoke to me like shit, and all I could think was, 'I WANT TO RIP HIS F&%*ING HEAD OFF'" was going to rectify my situation.



Thursday, May 17, 2012

My new mate Giuseppe AKA Have you ever been picked up by a telemarketer? AKA YES, YES, YES, Optus.







You know those phone calls you avoid, the ones that come from an unknown number and when you call them back you get no answer and the distinct feeling that you are being transferred to India to be convinced you need to buy something? Or donate money to the epilepsy foundation? Yeah those ones. The ones that call at the most inconvenient of times.







Ive been getting this random number calling me lately. I tried to call it back once, just in case it was someone I like with a new number. And because I'm curious like that.

On Tuesday it called me while I was enjoying a coffee in the sun after work, getting frustrated because everyone I knew was at work still (it was 1pm) and I really wanted to chat to someone that was over of age of 5 about nothing particular. Work was pretty heavy that morning.

My mobile rang. The worst thing about mobiles is being able to have your favourite song as your ring tone, because all too often I get distracted dancing and singing and miss the call. But on Tuesday I was just excited because after trying to call all my peeps in the hope someone had chucked a sickie, I thought maybe one of them was calling me back. When I picked up the phone however, it was this damn '03' number that I kept avoiding.

The thought that it may have been someone important calling me crossed my mind just the day before.
What if someones in hospital?
What if it's my bank?
What if I won lotto??!!

Curiosity killed the cat, so I'm told. Meow.

Turns out no one is hospital, my bank is sweet, and I didn't win the bloody lotto.

Instead, it was my new mate Giuseppe.
Giuseppe works for Optus, who happens to be my phone provider, and Giuseppe wanted to know why I keep going over my cap.

The only thing stopping me from hanging up is the fact that he didn't have an Indian accent and I was desperate to chat to someone.

I explained to Giuseppe that my love of MMS is whats killing me, as stupid Optus doesn't include it in my plan. He gave me info and a phone number that I pretended to write down to go onto a higher plan that includes MMS.
That was the point of his phone call, of course. However through the course of the conversation Giuseppe filled me in on his love life - he is recently separated, and we bonded over our mutual love of shoes - half of his collection is in storage after said breakup.

But then, came the highlight of my day. Maybe week. Possibly year.
Giuseppe asked me on a date. Which will involve shoe shopping.

 "If I am ever in your area Laura, we have date".

"Sure thing, you have my number!".

When I told the farmer, who was away for work, he barely bat an eyelid. "That's nice darl".
He is used to this random only ever happens to me stuff.


So now, I leave you with this...


{I'm sure this is Giuseppe, and I plan on using the line 'Yes, Optus' in bed sometime, just because of The Farmers lack of concern over the whole debarcle. I'll give him thats nice darl?}

 

Have you ever picked up the Optus dude?







Friday, May 4, 2012

Kids are assholes and parenting is a bitch.


I have an amazing friend that I went to school with. She lives on the other side of the country to me. She has recently become a new mum. I am so happy for her.

My friends little sister recently moved to my town. And even more recently she had a brand new little baby girl.

Today, the pressure that is applied to mums has really hit me, smack in the face.

This girl I know has been doing it tough. Really tough. But I didnt know.

I didnt know that a few hours after she and I had coffee together, when I sensed something was wrong but didnt say anything, she went to hospital for three weeks.

What disgusts me most, is that whilst in hopsital trying to get herself better, get her head back where it needs to be, she became worse. Each nurse that came on with the change of shift gave her advice that conflicted with the one before. She felt she could not anything right. Nothing was working. She was drowning.

She still isnt well. And I'm not sure how I can help, without looking pushy, or like a mothering Nazi. I dont know this girl well, but for the sake of mothers everywhere, for the sake of a tiny baby girl who needs her mamma, I'm so there.

So whilst talking to her sister today, I had a revelation.

We decided that a lot of the issue was the advice. The books. The 'baby whiperers' with all their great plans and routines that you should stick by. It was killing this mum because it wasnt working!

No one tells you that kids are assholes and learning to be a mum is a bitch of a job!!! And one that you have to learn.
No book from Angus and Robertson is going to teach you to be a mum. No amount of googling will make you good at it. We need to know that its a day by day thing. That each day changes and you generally have to adapt to that each day.

That being a mum makes you a chameleon. You are constantly needing to change your colours.

So, tonight, I am thinking of embarking on a little project, and I would LOVE your help!!!!

Please, shoot me through an email lauraruhmann@gmail.com and let me know your story, of how you have learnt to adapt to being a mum, to changing your colours regularly. Your parenting fails, and wins, and how parenting can be a bitch!

 Politically incorrect is more than welcome :)