In brief

On Monday I went to my Dad and stepmother’s for a mini-break with the boys.

Last time I went I just loaded their internet connection and off we went.

This time, after several hours, there was no way their system was going to let my system play.


And then the mini-break turned into five days.

It was great! It’s not like we did anything exotic but you know, living the day-to-day somewhere else is always refreshing.

It did, however, bring swift short shrift to my dalliance with doing the 365 blogging thing.

Hah. What a joke. Lasted all of THREE days.


There were further family ‘issues’ in the middle  of it with mum but after many tears that was eradicated.

In a nutshell, she has reached the point where she simply does not want anything to do with my father. At all. Ever again.

My reaction to this has been mixed – featuring a smattering of empathy and understanding with a fair swig of bewilderment and confusion (we have lived in the same house for 10 years and for the better part of the last 8 my Dad and stepmother have come here for the boys’ birthdays etc when mum has also been present) and – admittedly – a few heaving spoonfuls of ‘fucking get over it’.

Then, in my brief interlude back into the city on Wednesday to see my shrink, my mind was cleared. My psychiatrist explained to me that certain events and experiences put down a level/foundation/bed of pain and damage in a person that it is fair, reasonable and possible they might never recover from. And that is OK.

Furthermore, he is of the professional opinion and advice that when a person does/says things within particular categories to you, you have full and total permission to never ever let that person back into your life.

The other people who are impacted by that just basically have to man up, make adjustments and allowances and respect that position.

I am not going into the whole sordid history of my parents – it is neither my place nor my desire to do so. But let’s just say Mum is sitting firmly in both these camps.

Cue immense guilt for what she has done over the last decade to make it easier for me blahdeblahblabhblah. Don’t worry, I’m not dwelling on it, that was as much her choice as it was my desire.

It’s been quite revelationary actually.

My heart is also heavy with just how I am now going to ‘manage’ four children’s birthday parties and various other gatherings but so be it. Say la vie as some would say.


Meanwhile, Grover still appears to have nits, I suspect Jasper does too and after a new treatment program tonight (the proper one from my legend hairdresser) I know that Oscar and Felix both had one tiny louse each and an egg each. Awesome.

Tomorrow I will tackle the little fellas, it was too late and they were beyond it tonight.


The car had to be registered today. Holy crap what a delightful way to haemorrhage even more money. Sheesh.


Yesterday I was out at the pool with the boys and when i returned indoors saw several missed calls from Chef. I kinda knew what it was about.

When he answered he said, ‘So, would you like to speak to the new Head Chef of Danks St Depot‘.


So very proud and so very happy for him.


I am going to say this out loud and totally jinx myself, but these holidays are flying by. Can you believe we’ve only got three weeks left? That three weeks have already been? I am now a firm advocate for going to the beach to swallow whole chunks of time. For FREE!


NOW, something important.

I am about to launch Team Oscar: helping one boy be the best he can be

The goal:

To raise the funds(approx $4,800) for Oscar to attend the incredibly awesome special needs high school St Edmund’s.

The plan:

1. 10kms in 10 weeks.
At the end of last year I went from sitting on my increasingly lardy arse to running for 30 minutes and losing 6 kilos in 9 weeks. So – now I’m setting myself the goal of running from half an hour to running 10kms in 10 weeks. (obviously wanting to lose more weight as well but my focus here is the 10kms.) You can all take bets sponsor me. You’re welcome.

2. Buy the t-shirt.
It’ll have something like Team Oscar on the front and helping one boy be the best he can be on the back, with my blog address because I’m a publicity whore I want people to do the curiosity-click and then donate money.

They will probably be purple w/ white writing – or maybe black with purple writing. Purple is, as many of you know, Oscar’s favourite colour.

Just be grateful it won’t feature an iron-on transfer of some WWE wrestlers on it.

Anyone know of a good t-shirt manufacture for such shenanigans I would be grateful for the lead/intro.

3. Online auction
This is where I’m going to need some help – I have no idea how to run such a thing or what to auction (some of you – Corrie I’m looking at you) have already offered to donate items but really, I still have no idea how to run such a thing.

aaand – that’s it so far.

I’d love your thoughts and ideas for other ways we can get our boy (and keep him there) to St Eddie’s.


And listen, while we’re talking about fundraising, one of the lovely blogging ladies I follow here in Australia is undergoing immense strain and trauma at the moment with her husband in intensive care and the situation looking anything other than grim. The Aussie Mum Bloggers have stepped up and are raising some funds to help her through the next few weeks.

Donate over at Glowless while I try and make the widget work for me here.

Just shocking.


Ummm, I think that’s it so far. Anyone still with me?


Update (anything to bump that wallowing number off its perch)

So – yesterday we went to my beautiful, no-dramas, no-agenda, just lovely in-laws to celebrate my MIL’s impending birthday – which is today! (Happy Birthday LynniePins although I’m not sure she reads this anymore after the posting about her hamburgers incident of 2006). I had a good chat with my BIL who has perspective on parent relationships too and felt the better for it.
A few weeks ago Jasper was itching his head and I was fairly certain (ie positive) I discovered some lice eggs. I jumped into action with the procedure outlined to me by me awesome hairdresser/friend T and thought no more about it. Until a week later when he was scratching again and found more eggs and – sigh – a louse. My god those things are VILE.

Total aside, did you know that lice are an arachnid? True.

SO – again I did the procedure and forced myself to ignore it forgot about it once more.

Until yesterday. When he came and sat on my lap and like that chimp I watched do a poo in its hand and then eat it at the zoo that time just after checking its kid’s hair for nits and other tasty parasites one of Pavlov’s dogs I started looking through his hair.

More eggs.

Of course, my beautiful SIL – who used to run a childcare centre and had a whole episode with nits where she simply could not get rid of them and was contemplating going all Sinead on her scalp – recoiled in horror. And fell down dead on sighting Felix and her son, my nephew, sitting head to head playing some killing/shooting/mind-killing/future-generation-dumbing-down game on his Christmas present iPod Touch which made him CRY with joy on Christmas morning (bless ‘im).

By now there was much mirth about how the last time we were all together we exposed everyone to whooping cough and so it only seemed fitting that we yet again share the love with another hideous ailment that requires making.your.children.cry.

Seriously, we’re like the relatives from the boondocks you wish you could put through a sheep-dip before seeing.

I checked Grover – yep, eggs.
I checked Felix (who I’d only checked a few days prior) – yep, eggs.
I would have checked Oscar but he is still traumatised from the last nit episode and is only just letting me touch his head again let alone LOOK at it at the same time.

So, home we all went. About two hours later and many tears and much cajoling and even more ‘EUGH I found a louse! There’s another one! OH MY GOD look at the eggs from that section’ my boys smell really really nice and have shiny fluffy hair.

Aren’t you glad you came to visit?
Getting the iPod has totally shifted Felix out of the fug he was in for the last oh, THREE months, that he has been in. I know these fugs well – nothing really wrong but nothing really right either. He’s a tricky one my Felix – so wise and mature beyond his 10 years and yet, still 10.
In my hideous state of mind the other day I started to take ornaments off the Christmas tree. There were instantaneous tears from Grovey and Jasper so I stopped (feeling even worse of course).

But today! Now! They are at the movies with mum (who is choosing to believe my meltdown the other day was ALL about the boys and NOTHING about that OTHER THING that shall not be mentioned. Healthy.) so that mother fucker is coming down so this living room can return to some semblance of its normal cramped chaos. As opposed to the HOLY SHIT if this chair stays sitting here for one minute longer I’m going to burst a blood vessel.

HAHA victory is all mine!

In other news, the Brick With Wheels needs new wheels. Well, the tyres that go on those wheels. I can not complain as the tyres that are on there have lasted more than 65,000kms and apparently, according to the people in my life who know about such things, that is REMARKABLE! CELBRATORY even! (Seriously, the way my father and uncle get excited over such things is absolutely beyond me.)

So, cue phone calls to various tyre retailers with my authoritative voice on asking for prices and whatnot (yeah, I don’t know what the whatnot is either but it sounds good).

HOLY CRAP people do you know how freakin’ expensive those bits of rubber are???

I mean sure, it’s all about being able to drive your vehicle and a key safety component for ferrying around your screaming brats precious cargo but FAR OUT BRUSSEL SPROUT we’re talking MORE THAN A GRAND. VOMIT.
I’ve procrastinated long enough now. I’m off for a run.


It’s taken 37 years

but tonight I discovered I.HAVE.NITS.

Felix had been complaining of an itchy head since last week but Felix complains about a lot of things so I scratched his head to pretend I cared and moved on. He said tonight his head was still itchy so I took a closer look and thought to myself, ‘so that’s what lice eggs look like’.

I gave him a #3 buzz cut.
I smothered his head in conditioner and then fine-tooth-combed it.

I checked Jasper’s head and thought to myself, ‘so wow, this is really happening. That’s what lice eggs look like’.

I gave him a #3 buzz cut
I smothered his head in conditioner and then fine-tooth-combed it. 
I didn’t even bother checking Grover’s head.
I gave him a #3 buzz cut
I smothered his head in conditioner and then fine-tooth-combed it. 
Oscar escaped this process due to already being asleep but has a #3 so really, our journey to White Trash seems almost complete. 
By this stage I realised that I too had been itching for a few days. I told myself it was psychosomatic because I am very prone to such things. I remember once talking to a friend about thrush and how I hadn’t had it in an age and then waking up with it the next day. Seriously, it’s a miracle I’m still alive. 
I got mum to check my head but she couldn’t see any eggs or lice. 
She wasn’t wearing her glasses. 
I smothered my head in conditioner anyway.
And fine toothed combed it.
And found a slumbering louse. 
My hair is now outrageously fluffy and my children look like criminals but my GOODNESS those little critters are not going to take hold on my watch. 
I am eyeing all memories suspiciously as to where the hell they’ve come from. 
So five beds have been stripped and remade, eleventy gagillion towels gathered up and the washing pile never looked so menacing. If I had half a chance I’d probably dose the lot with kero and have a little bonfire in the backyard. 
Lice! Can you fucking believe it.