Postcard from the bunker

Dear all,


These last few weeks have been consumed with lots of time in the car and being responsible for all living things in this house not just those in the category of people and animals. I know, that can only mean one thing – the Matriarch has just had her fourth joint replacement surgery in as many years but her first knee done. Yep, she’s one joint and a pacemaker off being the Bionic Woman. Well that and a crazy in-arm electronic control panel.


All is well – the procedure was a hit, the hospital suitably dropped the ball on pain relief for her because what is a PRIVATE hospital stay (where you’ve been for three other procedures in recent years) without a distinct lack of pain relief. Idiots.


There was the incident of mum being in so much pain while having a sponge bath and bedding change which saw me discreetly dry-retching in her toilet with all the hot,sweaty, compulsive yawning, room spinning, yes I am hopeless when someone I love is in pain, and I can see the drain bag coming from the wound site FULL.OF.BLOOD, what can I say.


She came home for a few hours on Sunday – a visit I affectionately refer to as the rental inspection where it was noted I hadn’t killed any plants and had even planted a pot-bound bougainvillea (because it’s been giving me the absolute shits for years and I figure it can grow over the plastic netting on the fence that was for the passionfruit which the possums decimated but was met with a bit of a grimace, cue why I generally take a monumental disinterest in the garden) but also noted we had not fixed the pavers (ie raised them 1/2 cm). It was lovely having her home and it was the precursor to her return this Saturday – somewhere between cricket and three, that’s right, THREE birthday parties three of my children have invitations to.


Chef is settling in to his new job. There were other offerings which were distracting but nothing came of them and now he’s a bit low which reallly, all things considered, is perfectly normal because we all know had it been me there would have been a LOT of wailing and gnashing of teeth and general voice-of-doomness while Chef just quietly got on with life. I think it only fair for him to have a little wallow.


Felix has five weeks left of primary school. Amazing. I look at him and his friends in this weird in-between land of child and teenager and am SO.FREAKIN’.EXCITED.


Jasper’s dance concert is next weekend. It occurred to me at (just ONE of) the dress rehearsal on Sunday that the routine seems remarkably like the routine last year just to new music… oh and a new $70 costume.


I’ve been spending some time going way back into the vault to update tags and SEO shite and quite frankly – what a waste of fucking time. If you find me you find me and YAY to that. If you don’t well, look at that, the world is still turning.


I have pulled back from sponsored posts in quite a big way – they just feel so pedestrian. But that said, I had a PR pitch today asking if I was interested in doing one about MY LAWN – and SO NOT A EUPHEMISM for my lady parts, our ACTUAL lawn.


DO you want to know what I’d been doing for the THREE HOURS prior to receiving that email? I’d been digging up chunks of lawn in our back yard (all part of the paver remediation works AND also putting in some extra ones where I like to stand when hanging the washing…) and relocating to the front Nature Strip of Death, also known as the Hallowed Lawn of Weeds.


So you’ll be hearing all about THAT PR pitch in the ensuing weeks. I know, I can feel the excitement building too.


Last week I got all my hair cut off so I am now a MFP – mother-fuckin’ pixie. I didn’t know it was possible to love a haircut more with each passing day but here I am, doing exactly that. GO ME.


I’ve been running again – been at it for about the last four weeks. I’m back at being able to run for 5kms non-stop and today did it in just under 40 minutes. Writing that makes me realise that is actually really good so I should quit with the ‘you’re so fat and slow’ mantra and maybe focus more on the ‘at least you’re off the lounge’ one. I’m two kilos down but that is very prone to fluctuation. I’m just trying to take the panic out of it and take each day as it comes.


So yesterday was a two bowls of penne with four cheeses and a 4.5 hour nap. Today was a 5km run and 3 hours of gardening. Yeah, all or nothing seems to be my go-to.


And that, quite frankly, brings you mostly up to date. There’s LOADS of other exciting things to share, like how I changed the boys over from flannel to cotton sheets and have the doonas ready to either wash or get dry-cleaned to then be put away until the Months of Hades (also know as summer. Apparently.) or how one of my best and dearest friends (and her family) are relocating to New Zealand in the new year (SOB) or that every Saturday I now spend about six hours at some sort of cricket game and am ACTUALLY quite enjoying it. GO FIGURE.




Just your average week at allconsuming

Mum’s gone in for a knee replacement this afternoon. Her fourth joint replacement in as many years. Funny, this is one instance when high frequency and repetition does not reduce anxiety.




Felix has cricket training at 5.30 and as mum isn’t here all of us will be going. I’m making lasagne so it’ll be ready when we get home. In making the bechamel I just dumped the milk into the roux (as I always do, none of this namby pamby bit by bit malarky) but think there was more milk in the carton than I had estimated. Bechamel soup anyone?




Grover fell asleep on the way to the hospital. He’s still asleep. His first day sleep in what? Months?




I’ve been very snarky – I know it’s worry about mum but there you have it.




I just burnt the bechamel.




I am panicking about my weight. Again. Just like I did at exactly the same time last year. I’ve started exercising again but my left ankle is really bothering me. And I know it’s because I’m stressed, I know it’s because I am at the peak of self-loathing (both about the physical and the emotional) but I just can’t stop eating. I mean, of course I can, but dear GOD sometimes I just find stuff already in my mouth before I realise it. GAH.




blah blah blah.






Just stuff

I have no idea what I’m doing here anymore. I know I’m over-thinking it. Just write you idiot, write.


Last week was a big one with Jasper’s birthday (6!) and then baking for the cake stall that was yesterday. Then the weekend hit – which was huge – I now accept that Saturdays involve 4+ hours of cricket for Felix and 1.5+ hours for Oscar in the afternoon.


Saturday night saw my self-loathing at a peak as I was going to my birth father’s wife’s 50th and trying to find something in my wardrobe that fitted and looked nice was like looking for a nice bit of pork in a Jewish butchery. Anyway, it was Apart from catching up with the family I met friend’s of L’s who have known him since high school when the dirty deed was done. It was remarkably awesome hearing from them all about it.


I also got impressively tipsy and came home to make a flourless orange cake. Drunk cake baking. Who knew!


Sunday was Oscar’s school’s 60th birthday party. It needs its own post. That place, I swear to God, is the most special precious place in the universe. I was cake stall organiser and had made 11 different things because I was worried no-one was going to bring anything. Well, people brought things – cupcakes, muffins, slices, brownies, biscuits, lolly bags, meringues, you name it. We’re not sure yet but we’re fairly certain we cracked $1,000 for the school. ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS from a cake stall. And dudes, we were not fleecing people, such was our plentiful supply of baked goodies. It was a magical magical day, all done with the filthiest of hangovers. And my period arriving. Good times.


Last night saw me totally lose my shit at Jasper and Grover and scream at them like I never have before. Oscar stood on the sidelines getting a good seat for the show and relishing the moment that for once it did not involve him or Felix.


I was asleep by 9 to then be up at 6 this morning.


Today I have done all those weekend things that didn’t get done – washing, cleaning the chook house, guinea pig cage, the silkworm box and watering the garden. I had a quick 20 minute nana nap on the lounge after that effort and now must go and check the guineas are not dead in the sun out the back. Whoops.