Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Wanky Wednesday

This post is totally brought to you by the nice people at Subway* who churn my tummy every time I hear their Wank You sub ad.

"Mum, what's Wank You meat?" asked C. I told him I there was $20 on the ground behind him, and then left him looking for it while I went off muttering something about making dinner. (C. is 10, so I suspect he knows only too well what a wank is, but gets his kicks from messing with my head.)

Anyway, I swear that's what they say on the advertisement for their latest creation, the Wank You Wagyu Beef sub. I wouldn't be asking for any creamy sauces to be added to that sandwich, if you know what I'm saying.

It's like Fuck Miss all over again.

Anyway, it got me thinking about other wanky things that have been pissing me off lately.

This list is not exhaustive, but it is an indication of how cranky I get when it's that time of the month people do wanky things that annoy me.

- Rihanna. I hate her nasally voice, I'm over her sexy lyrics and soft porn video clips, and it really pisses me off that I have to monitor the music I listen to and/or watch because I have kids. And what's with the little girl voice when she talks, but the big, brash supposedly sexy one when she sings? You can't have it both ways babe. (Or apparently you can and do, according to your lyrics). I actually quite like her music, but I'd like to see her show what she can do without using sex to sell it.

- The KFC Double, a burger that features two different types of cheese and bacon, and replaces the bun with pieces of deep-fried chicken. Who in the hell eats something like that? According to the ads, men do. Seriously? If that's true, it's no wonder men have a higher risk of heart attacks than women!
And don't even get me started on the (also KFC) ad that has a woman urging a mate to ditch her 'pigeon food' for popcorn chicken and gravy. With friends like that, who needs enemies? (And haven't we all had them girls?)
And KFC? The Month of Manfood idea sucks. Especially when you send 'VIP' emails to female customers. So you're saying we're fat ugly pigs who eat like men? That's when we're not eating pigeon food.
Yeah, way to get us to buy your product KFC. Not.

- Shane Warne. Not just for tweeting way too much information about his relationship with Liz Hurley and her bird, but for selling out to Maccas. Forget OUR kids, what the hell kind of message is a top sportsperson sending to his kids?

- Fake Facebook girlfriends. Really? It's not so bad to be single. I cannot believe that any self-respecting man with a pair of balls would be quite so needy. Am I wrong?

(And they say women are insecure...)
Thank God that not everything in life is wanky.

* Not really

Friday, March 25, 2011

Flog your blog Friday

If it's Friday, that means some serious blog-flogging has to go down.

The trouble is that after Aus Blog Con 2011 I was so exhausted, I didn't really do anything that interesting. There was quite a bit of catch-up sleep, and a zillion emails to deal with.
And I really missed the constant supply of yummy food and goodie bags.

(Note: I was not alone apparently. Early mornings, busy days, and late nights - not to mention lot of squealing - will do that to Bloggers Of A Certain Age. Allegedly).

However, on my return home, I discovered the pumpkin vine had really taken over my back garden ... See for yourself!

Erm...there used to be a lawn here somewhere ....

A pumpkin AND a flower

I have a secret passion for pumpkin and/or zucchini flowers. I grabbed a few flowers from the garden, washed them, stuffed them with ricotta and herbs, breadcrumbed them, and lightly deep-fried them.
Not Boombah-friendly but so divine, they were worth it!

The only problem is they unintentionally ended up looking a bit rude.

And coincidentally when commenting on a blog later, this was the word verification ...

I think there's something in that for all of us, don't you?

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Fondles, fun, and frolics

I haven't had a man fondle me in a bar for a Very Long Time.

His broad, warm hands, gently caressed my shoulders, occasionally gently lifting my hair up to better touch my neck.

Suddenly, I felt his warm breath on my ear:

'Is it okay for you?' he whispered. 'How's the pressure?'

OMG, it was more than okay for me and the pressure was fine.

Before you think I was up to anything naughty (as if!), I was at the GSK Welcome to Wanderlust at the historic Aussie Bloggers Conference in Sydney.

GSK stands for GlaxoSmithKline and they are represented by Naked Communications in Sydney.

They invited myself and a cross-section of 'influential bloggers' (preen) to a pre-conference event in Sydney to welcome Wanderlust to Australia.

We also had the opportunity to check out some of their products - like Ribena jelly cups, panadol, and Macleans toothpaste for sensitive teeth. (Holy crap, I need that toothpaste by the bucket load thanks to grinding and clenching my teeth instead of punching people in the head when warranted).

My fave part was that GSK have a wholistic approach to health and wanted to spoil the bloggers, particularly the mummies who rarely get any time out.

They laid on two handsome masseuses, to work out the knots in our sore shoulders, necks, and backs; and a reflexologist to sort out the kinks in our feet.

The finger food was divine, including mini duck pancakes, prawns, and my favourite, scallops served in their shells.

Then it was off to the Soho Bar for the Nuffnang ice-breaker welcome session.

I've not been to a bar/nightclub for a very long time.

We all put our GSK goodie bags next to the wall, supposedly so we could dance, but we were too busy talking.

A couple of peeps - not naming anyone Mrs Woogs - decided to cavort on the massive bed that was in the middle of our room. (I could have quite happily crawled into it and gone to sleep, but I don't get out much any more).

I was one of the first to leave, mainly because I'd been up since 4 am, and I don't do cocktails these days (I know, unbelievable but true).

I was told I'd never get a cab, and Sydney by dark, with strangers spilling out of bars is a much more intimidating place than by day, so I was figuring my route home when I left. Totally forgetting my GSK 'prolly best bag ever' goodie bags. D'Oh!

However, the good news was I got a cab and was sleeping in that nice big hotel bed, under crisp sheets totally and blissfully alone before I knew it!

Next morning, I turned up to register at the conference, and was warmly welcomed by fellow bloggers and around 200 cupcakes that the lovely @FaeraeSarah had made for us all.

I can't even begin to explain how wonderful the day and night that followed was. It was fun, informative, warm, supportive, and not at all bitchy or boring.

 And it gave me hope that one day, I may just make money either from my blog or by blogging. Or both.

I've been to loads of conferences, but this was easily the most user-friendly and fun one, and the delegates were all angels ... Mostly female, a few more devilish, and a few brave males as well.

And I met so many wonderful people, who were just as fab - if not more awesome - than they appear to be on their blogs and/or on twitter.

I barely spent a moment in my big bed (damn) and I came home exhausted, but my goodness, I met some fabulous people and reinforced friendships already made online.

And you know what? The blogging community, at least in Australia, is a REAL community. Just as real as anything you have via work, your kids' school, uni, mother's group, sport, or anything else.

I knew most of these people before I had even met them. And they knew me. We knew each other's fears and foibles before we even met. If that makes sense.

Sometimes we didn't know or forgot each others' real names - Glowless, NDM, and Sawhole for example. But the squeals and hugs when we realised who belonged to which blog and twitter handle were so genuine.

The few men attending were handsome and clever, so I felt too shy to approach any of them. (Yes I am a grown-up).

  So imagine my mixture of embarrassment and pleasure when the two handsome Daves from Nuffnang sat down beside me. At the Naughty Table. After my phone had gone off during Dave @digitalee's Nuffnang talk. (The shame of it all. I SWORE I had turned it off. Stupid phone).

Seriously, if you don't have Nuffnang on your blog you need to. No one gets bloggers, especially mummy bloggers, like they do.
All too soon, AusBlogCon2011 was over, but we've all put our names down for next year.

 Thanks to all the wonderful women who made it happen - you know who you are - and I'll put my hand up to help you out however I can for 2012.

Especially if it involves massages.

Ready for the knees-up, laugh, hug and shriek fest dinner dance.

I was proud to be one of Kelley's (Of fame) biatches.
You only make her Biatch List Of Awesome if you totally let her fondle your boobs while attaching fake tattoos.
Sorry for the fuzzy shot, but loads of people attempted to take photos with my camera that night, thus confirming it is crap! This is about as good as it gets!

It's a happy snap of our AusBlogCon2011 hen, the lovely Veronica, the cursing but sweet-as-sugar NDM and Kelly of @Magnetooboldto fame, who rocked the prettiest shoes in the room.

The gorgeous Bern Morley and I. Play spot the (slightly) removable tatts.

Did you do the #AusBlogCon2011 or #NonAusBlogCon2011? Would you come next year?

Saturday, March 19, 2011


I thought I was going to have to buy another bag to get my goodies home from the Aussie Bloggers Conference.

The sponsors were amazingly generous.

I was lucky enough to win a door prize.

Sadly, I  missed out on the best prizes in the stampede (it was first-in, first-served, and everyone wanted a Rubbermaid mop. (Yes I know, even housework-hating me. That's because the Rubbermaid mops are supposed to be freaking awesome! And anything that can help me clean faster is a winner on my list).

However, I did pick up a pack of these, so I was well pleased.

I seemed to have lost a crap-load of Tupperware in my marriage separation (including stuff I was given before my first marriage), so I'm really grateful for these lovely little containers which will hopefully help me restore order in my kitchen.

And then there were the goodie bags.

We had a few places to go on the Friday night, and at the last one, all of us lined our lovely GSK goodie bags against the wall. I didn't get to look inside, but they were apparently awesome. The GSK people also gave me a second one, so I could give it away to my followers who weren't lucky enough to attend the historic Aussie Bloggers Conference.

But when I left, I was thinking of how I was to get back to the hotel from there, and I forgot to pick up my bags.

I asked around, tweeted, and rang the bar, but my bags have not materialised. I'm SOOOO disappointed.

Luckily, there were goodie bags at the conference too.

They were filled with fabulous products from the Aus Blog Con's main sponsors, including Disney Australia, Kleenex, Dyson, and Rubbermaid. But there were also other cute goodies, like Lindt chocolate, B-Strings, Viva, and Guardsman. How fabulous!

Filled to the brim with useful stuff to use at home

My bulging goodie bag which did not get left behind

One of my favourites, a piggy bank from Springfree Trampolines

See how many things we were given? I'm so looking forward to enjoying them!

Best of all, I didn't have to buy another bag. I hadn't had a spare moment to shop, but the very nice man at Virgin check-in put my goodie bag and Rubbermaid prize into one of those stripey bags, so I could bring them home. I thought that was lovely!

Friday, March 18, 2011

Look out Sydney!

After months of participation, it's finally here: The inaugual AusBlogCon 2001.

The Bayview Boulevard Hotel staff are clearly a tough lot if they're prepared to host close to 200 of Australia's naughtiest, funniest, most clever, and influential bloggers.

For many, especially the Mummy Bloggers, it's the first time they've been off the leash for a Very Long Time.

As individuals, we are strong, but as a group I suspect we will be scary!

I'm resting up in the hotel room now, after rising at 4 am to get to the airport and catch my flight. I actually ended up getting here early as the Virgin check-in girl advised me my original later flight had been delayed and would probably be delayed even longer. She offered to put me on an earlier flight which also had been delayed but was leaving at the original time I'd booked for.

(That's a plus for checking in with a human being. I usually self check-in but I was laden down with my so-called laptop and bags, and couldn't be arsed).

I had time to have a coffee, and do a few tweets before boarding. Before long, I was at the hotel. I was early, and my room wasn't ready.

At the suggestion of the check-in staff, I left my bags with the concierge and wandered into the CBD. I haven't been to Sydney for ages, and I had forgotten just how frantic it was here.

And how trendy so many people seemed to be. I felt distinctly underdressed in my strappy Queensland-style maxidress.

I had fun getting lost and finding one shop after another that were offering bargains. I'm afraid I'm not going to look at my credit card bill just yet. (Hands over ears: La La La La La).

One thing I noticed about Sydney compared to previous visits, was that people were really friendly. The trendy young girls at one shop were interested in how Brisbane was faring after the floods, a woman drinking coffee next to me at the Nespresso shop (more on that later), struck up a conversation about coffee and her boat.

And in a cafe, when I stopped to have a cool drink and get my bearings, a nice young man came over and proceeded to chat me up. Granted, I suspect he was drunk or on drugs, but he was easy on the eye, and he had an English accent which made him slightly more interesting.

Had he been Irish I may not have made my excuses and left, but I did, given that there is plenty of fun to be held with my fellow bloggers tonight! (And no, not THAT kind of fun).

Somehow, I managed to find my way back to the hotel, where I'm about to soak in a hot tub and hopefully get in a Nanna nap before the GSK Mummy Bloggers Event, and later the Nuffnang pre-conference Ice Breaker.

Until then, here are a few shots from my day so far:

The nearby park. I couldn't take many photos because my hands were full of shopping bags!

My hotel room. It's not particularly exciting, but it's clean and the bed seems comfy.
The rather uninspiring view from my room. I never get the harbour/water view rooms!
The evidence. Or why I should never be let loose in a big city!


Thursday, March 17, 2011

Aus Blog Con 2011

It's here!

Australia's first-ever national conference for bloggers, particularly the influential ones (preen); and parenting, food, and mummy bloggers.

I cannot wait, but as usual I've left it far too late. (Yes, I know, I can rhyme.)

With Mr 10 having surgery this week, and the usual chaos at ChezMIA, I've not had time to print out electronic tickets, organise transport, or even think about clothes. (What the hell AM I going to wear?).

I have no idea where the hotel is, or the several welcoming events I've been invited to on the Friday night. I have no idea how I will walk in heels or stay up past my bedtime.

But I'm looking forward to it.

I really hope to tweet and blog regularly from AusBlogCon, but I don't have an ultra cool phone and my computer is a clunky, slow laptop.

While internet is included in the price of the conference ticket, power points will be limited, and my computer doesn't last long at all. Extra internet is AUD $24.95, and I'm not sure the budge will stretch to that.

I will miss those of you who wanted to come and cannot, and will enjoy meeting and catching up with the ones who can.

I will be the fashion-challenged chunky lady making frequent trips to the ladies'.

Come hold my hand. I promise to wash it thoroughly or with BYO sanitiser, and I don't bite - hard!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Hump Day happiness

It's Hump Day, and today's theme is apparently things that make us happy.

Here is one of mine:

Brumby's Hot Choc Buns!

I hate hot cross buns. Always have and always will. And I've tried choc cross buns and no-fruit ones too, and found them almost as disgusting

Until yesterday, when Miss 8 talked me into buying a six-pack of Hot Choc Buns from Brumby's.

They're running a special deal where you get a free sandwich loaf or six bread rolls free with every half dozen, which appealed to the bargain hunter in me.

"Are you sure you will eat them?" I asked Missy Moo. "Because you know I don't like them."

Yes, she said, she would, bouncing around happily like a little energiser bunny in anticipation.

Non-bread-eating Mr 10 is packing away jam sandwiches like no tomorrow since his recent surgery - they were the first food he kept down after his op, and I think have become like instant comfort food. So we chose the free sandwich loaf together with a six pack of the double chocolate buns.

When Miss 8 tore into the buns for afternoon tea, they smelled divine. I pinched just a tiny piece off from one of them, just to taste you understand.

And Oh. My. God.

I almost melted in pleasure. I tried a little bit more - just to make sure I wasn't mistaken, of course. And a little bit more. Before I knew it, the bun was gone!

The softness of bread and the richness of the plentiful chocolate chips were, quite frankly, better than sex. (Mind you, it's been a while...)

This morning, under the guidance of Herself, we heated the buns lightly so the chocolate got gooey and melty.

And Oh. My. Freaking. God.

We were both in chocolately ecstasy.

I think the secret is that the chocolate is Cadbury, which is my favourite everyday chocolate, and which is moist and rich without being too sweet.

Hot Choc Buns aren't very Boombah-friendly, but this morning I did not care.

Miss 8 is lucky, as she can indulge in them whenever she likes.

And apparently there are raspberry choc and orange choc ones as well.


(A pleasurable one...)

Readers, what's your guilty pleasure?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Very Long Day

Yesterday was A Very Long Day.

After a fitful sleep, I was up at 5 am to feed, dress and drop Miss 8 off to a favourite Auntie, and then onto the hospital with a starving and thirsty Mr 10.

Mr 10 needed surgery. Fairly urgent, but not emergency surgery, but scalpals and stitches required all the same.

It wasn't a huge deal. Just day surgery and, the paediatric surgeon - who was lovely - played it down nicely and said C. should be in and out, and we'd be home by lunch time.

The staff and surrounds were nice, and C's much loved Teddy was able to come too. He even had his own ID sticker!

I loved the signs telling parents to keep their mobiles turned ON ... so that medicos could reach us quickly and easily as soon as there was any news. Or our little ones came to, crying for us!

Mr 10 was anxious about the op, as you would be, and had made me promise I'd be there when he went to sleep and when he woke up. (Well d'uh, of course he didn't even have to ask!)

His Dad and I both accompanied him to whatever you call the room they go in before the theatre, and at the last minute, by the science of 'eenie, meanie, minie, mo' C. decided that his Dad should suit up and go with him to the Falling Asleep Stage, instead of me.

I wasn't at all peeved - I'm all for the kids having a good relationship with their Dad - but I was mildly disappointed I wouldn't be the last face C. saw as he went off to sleep.

We all had a giggle at his Dad in his gown and hat - especially as K., recently recovering from surgery himself, had one shoulder in a sling, so the hospital gown made it look like he had a chubby tummy.

And then C. gave me a kiss and went off, clutching Teddy with one hand, and his Dad with the other.

I really admired how well C was handling everything, but when K. got back, he was visibly shaken.

C. had decided at the last minute the surgery Wasn't Going To Happen. It took two doctors, a nurse and his Dad to hold him down. K. said he kept it together fine until the gas kicked in and his little boy went limp in his arms, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went unconscious. I don't think K. would mind me sharing that a bit of moisture got in his eyes right about then.

Despite our differences, I really felt for K. at that moment.

There is nothing worse than seeing your child helpless or putting them through a scary and/or painful experience. Even if it is for the very best of reasons.

In any case, given C's battle against the gas mask, I was probably lucky C. had chosen his Dad to take him through after all.

(The last time C. needed serious medical treatment, it took an orderly and a nurse and me to hold him down - and he still managed to get loose and, accidentally I hope, headbut me! He is seriously strong when he gets in that fight or flight mode!)

The waiting was horrible. We'd been told to expect 20-30 minutes, instead it was more than an hour. C. had taken a bit longer to come out of it than they had thought, and of course every extra minute was excruciating.

Everytime the phone rang in the parent waiting room, anxious parents would jump and look at each other. There was kind of a silent lottery where the parent most likely would answer, and the rest of us would either feel jealousy or relief depending on who was called up.

When we saw our little man post-up, he was teary and distressed. In pain of course, and crying about being held down prior to surgery. He was itchy beyond all crap - a fairly common reaction to morphine - and almost made his nose bleed scratching it. But he was okay.

He did come out with some funny, spaced-out sayings, that are funny now but weren't at the time. Like: 'Did they take my penis off? Did they sew it back on right?' (Clearly there was some pain in the nether regions).  'I wish I had a big needle up my bum instead of surgery'.

It took him hours to come out of an anaesthetic properly and he needed more pain relief as well. He ate and drank then threw up multiple times, and he wanted to pee, but couldn't. All fairly standard stuff, but upsetting when it's happening to one of your kids.

Eventually, about 8 or 9 hours after I'd expected to bring him home, Chase and I left the building. (We'd expected to be in the ward for only a couple more hours when Chase got out of theatre, so as soon as he was sitting up and eating, K. left).

I hadn't left C's side since K. left, except once to do a quick pee (sorry for the overshare), and again to grab his prescription before the pharmacy shut. (You'd think they'd send it home with you wouldn't they?).

K. had dropped off some sushi for lunch before he left, so at least I'd eaten, but I was starving by the time we left and could have murdered a coffee.

Chase brightened a little when he realised he was getting a wheelchair escort to the pick-up zone while I walked a zillion miles to the parking station and emptied my credit card into the pay machine to get my car out.

I know they all do it these days, but I think it's pretty cruel the way hospitals discharge patients before they are properly over a nasty procedure.

Poor Chase moaned and cried all the way home, in between alternatively dozing off and talking in tongues.

"Are we home?" he said, five minutes after we left the hospital. "Not yet," I said. "Well why is our house in the middle of the road?"

And he zonked out again before I had to answer.

I drove as slowly as I dared, as other drivers honked and tailgated us. I had no idea quite how many roads were full of bumps and potholes until last night! (Note to Main Roads: There are way too many!. Also? There should be a temporary flag or sign you can put on your car when you're transporting an ill or injured people from A to B.)

My sister-in-law had done a sterling job spoiling Miss 8 for the afternoon, and unasked and very kindly, had prepared dinner for all of us. Kebabs, snags and salad had never tasted so good. Even C. managed a sausage before zonking out again.

I had to practically carry him up the steep stairs into our home, and he cried all the way as every step hurt. (And yes, I managed to put my back and neck out again)!

Finally, the poor little dude was lying on his bed with a light blankie over him ... tucking him up would have been too painful.

I had to get up to him a few times, but he didn't throw up half the night as I'd been warned, though today has been challenging.

The boy who won't eat bread is now craving jam sandwiches! They were the first thing he kept down after his op, and I think they're his latest comfort food.

Finally, tonight some of C's colour and humour has returned. He rallied enough to call his sister a term of endearment earlier. (Well, that's if 'dickweed' counts as an affectionate term).

Later, when I told C. he was being very brave after surviving a tricky gentle shower, he said: 'Tell that to a body part that doesn't hurt.'

Tee hee ...That's my boy.

A serious note: I am well aware of how very lucky I am that C. only needed minor surgery and that he was able to come home last night. There are so many kids who go through way more painful and scary procedures, and I hope that their parents don't think in any way that I am unaware of the fact that what we went through was nothing compared to what they endure every day. We are lucky that C's problem was relatively minor, and that he's highly likely to make a full recovery. But my blog is kind of my (somewhat public) diary, and I needed to write about yesterday. I'd spent the previous day running on adrenalin, and when it all caught up with me, I needed to write.
That doesn't mean I think we're badly off, because I know how truly lucky we are. I know others are not so lucky and my heart goes out to all of you. But that doesn't mean I don't have the right, as a parent, to stress about my own child and express my own feelings as well. And I hope you will indulge me by allowing me to do that here.
For me, writing is a way to process my thoughts and feelings. It's healing and therapeutic, and it often sorts things out in my mind. It's one of the reasons I blog, even the overshares!

And finally: I was glad that my Ex and I were able to be there together for C. when he needed us. It's so important for separated parents to show their kids that they still have two parents who love them, and that they will be there for them. And I think K. and I were able to do that.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

It's official: I'm influential

This time next week, I'll be making my way to the ballroom of the Bayview Boulevard hotel in Sydney for Australia's first ever blogging conference.

Apparently I am one of Australia's most influential bloggers, and a bunch of us will finally be in the same room to swap notes, learn tips, and mentor each other.

For some of us, it will be the first time we've ever met In Real Life. For others it will be a catch-up of mammoth proportions.

I cannot wait.

Yes, I usually crap my pants (well not physically) at having to walk into a room full of people, particularly talented ones whom I admire.

However, I'm pretty sure this conference will be a little different.

The Australian blogging community is such a supportive one, and there are already other bloggers who confess they feel much the same.

Many of us are perfectly confident when it comes to hiding behind our computers and our words, but it's a different story when we have to actually like, talk, to people!

I'm figuring we can all hold each other's hands.

Unlike some of my bloggy friends, I've been unable to secure sponsorship to attend Aus Blog Con, as it's come to be known on twitter.

Virgin Blue sponsored my attendance at my literary agent Selwa Anthony's annual Sassy conference last year, by paying for my return flights from Brisbane.

This year, I booked during one of their week day happy hours, and was fortunate to get flights for only slightly more than the taxes cost me last time.

But I still have to cough up for conference fees, accommodation, airport parking in Brisbane and probably a taxi to and from the hotel in Sydney.

So that works out to about $600, which when you're on a low income is a lot of money.

So if you're a company who gets social media or who wants to find out more about how it works, I'm still open to bribes sponsorship.
In return, I could offer sponsors:
  • A free adspace on my blog.
  • Host a giveaway of your product/s on my blog.
  • Blog, tweet and facebook about our partnership.
  • Give you the opportunity to get your brands and products in front to some of the most influential mum, parenting and personal bloggers in Australia. At the inugural history-making first ever blogging conference of its kind.
  • Act as your brand ambassador at the conference. This could mean wearing your clothing, posting and tweeting pics of myself wearing your brand, and hand out business cards with your details on it.
Sound good? If so, get in touch and we can start planning.

If not, I'll suck it up, because I'm not missing this one baby.

Because Aus Blog Con won't just give me the chance to meet and mingle with the bloggers I admire, but will give me information on how to blog better, and hopefully, how to make money from it.

As for THAT photo a few posts back ... It was taken at the RACV Royal Pines Resort on the Gold Coast. I'll be blogging about my stay there over at fairly soon.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Our new arrival

Regular readers will know that housework and I do not get on.

I don't like it and it doesn't like me.

A few years ago, my physio and rheumy told me I could legitimately get out of things like vaccumming because it was bad for my arthritis, and in particular the sacriolliac joints (which are kind of the bits around your pelvis that you need to bend when you vaccuum).

How I loved that idea, but unfortunately, I don't have one of these, do you?

I didn't think so.

So imagine the exitement when this arrived...

It's a Robomaid!!!

Yes, clearly my hatred of all things housework has gone viral and the good people at Robomaid Australia decided to send me one to review.

Basically, you switch it on and the extremely clever Robomaid whizzes around quite happily cleaning the floors while you do something far more important like shopping for shoes, or lusting over Iphones and Ipads on the internet.

You can even switch it on when you leave the house, and the Robomaid will ensure your floors are clean when you get home.


I did try to program it to bring me coffee, but they seem to have left off that function unfortunately.

It's a tiny little package, and I honestly wasn't sure if it could tackle the pet hair, food scraps, and assorted crap left around by small humans and animals, but Robomaid is incredibly efficient, and very quiet.

The pets weren't particularly interested in it, though Mr 10 and Miss 8 quickly competed to see who could use the remote control first. (Yep, it even has one of those. Who needs toys when you have a robot vaccuum cleaner?)

You know how men often risk their marriages by giving stuff like vaccuum cleaners as presents? I think most women would forgive them one of these.

Oh, and they even go under beds and lounges and all those horrid places were mothers fear to go.

So how much do they cost?

Usually the damage is $599, but Robomaid Australia has a fantastic special for MIA followers.

The deal is AUD$419 plus shipping, a saving of 30 per cent.

For more details freecall 1800 794 191or you can order online

Honestly, my Robomaid is my new favourite thing. And I've finally gotten the kids interested in doing housework. For The Win!
Now I just have to name him - because I have decided my maid is a male.

Any suggestions?

Monday, March 7, 2011

Where am I?

I am part of a beautiful water garden at a leading Queensland resort. Can you guess where I am?

Sunday, March 6, 2011


How the hell did Sunday get here?

It's been another busy week at Chez MIA. A week peppered by storms, sick and injured small humans, and the usual pampering of pets.

Somehow, I missed out on gym - so much for the newer improved me I was hoping for in time for this month's Aussie Bloggers Conference. (And can I here, just let out a tiny Squee?! I cannot wait. New and improved me or not!)

However, I did manage to fit in a visit with a wonderful friend on the Gold Coast. We worked out we hadn't seen each other in oh, about 15 years. (Shhh...Don't calculate our ages please).

I hadn't met her hubby or kids, but they were absolutely delightful. My kids got on with hers, Zsa Zsa the toy poodle was made welcome, and we ate and drank like royalty. I was even treated to a sleep-in and breakfast in bed! Bliss ...

Last night, we enjoyed a barbie by the beach for dinner, despite the squalling rain. My mate's hubby was a trooper, braving the elements and doing something really tricky with foil to ensure the food didn't get wet. The kids DID get wet, much to their delight, as they tried to catch fish, sting rays and sharks with the popcorn chicken which was leftover from lunch. Lucky seafood.

We spent this morning back on the beach, and my friend even taught the kids how to correctly bait a fishing hook and cast. (My big brother spoiled me when I was a kid and always baited and cast for me. And took the fish off and cleaned it if I was lucky enough to catch one. So I loved that she didn't mind mucking in and doing the hard yards for me.)

I like fishing, I just don't like actually touching the fish or the bait! I know. That's a bit like saying you're a vegetarian except for bacon! Don't judge me.

Five or six fish were caught, and although they all had to be let go because they were on the tiny side, it didn't really matter. It was the catching of them that was the fun.

I'm using my weekend memories to keep me warm now, as I sit alone in a far too quiet home.

Yes, the kids went back to the Dad this afternoon, and handovers never get easier for me.

I hate this part of being a single Mum.

You'd think I would welcome the quiet and the time to regenerate - and to an extent, I do. But not without a constant physical and emotional yearning for my kids.

I walk in the house and resist the urge to phone them and tell them I miss them already. Because that wouldn't be cool.

I open the fridge, and see the leftovers of the last few meals I made them. Mumma's home-made lasagne;  their favourite duck soup. No little mouths to munch on it now.

I miss the happy little voices, their warm hugs, their cuddles, and fun. Okay I even miss the bickering!

At night, I pass their empty rooms, and it's weird to not go in to check they're sleeping soundly, or in need of  blankets and love. No sitting beside them watching them breathe, and marvelling that they are mine.

There is a physical ache, a dull drag in my stomach as I make do with a goodnight phone call, rather than a cuddle and a kiss, and perhaps, a story.

I know I am Bronnie, and I am more than my childrens' mother.

But tonight, it doesn't feel like it.