Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Je 't'aime

She's the one who dressed my brother and I like this in the 70's. Why does my bro look so scared?


She used to do awesome impersonations of Freddie Mercury and Boy George at family parties. I didn't appreciate them until now. I won't tell you where Dad's tobacco tin used to take pride of place.


She put up with a huge amount of hormones during my teen years.

She saw me flick the fingers to her from a shadow in the kitchen.

She always told me she had eyes on the back of her head. I never believed her until the latter happened.

She always told me that girls can do whatever boys can do. I beg to differ on the peeing whilst standing thing. Tried and failed.

She's a control freak. So am I. You do the maths. Ka-boom!

She created and probably indulged my love of bargain shopping.

She has no favourites. ;)

I know she has a favourite ;)

Golden Angel, no it's not you.

Cheeko, not you either.


She traveled to the other side of the coutry when this arrived. Little did she prepare herself for the post pregnancy hormones that arrived with Miss E.



She indulged me with this one too. Came from the other side of the world to share in the hormones this time. She must be mad.




She held my hand through this.


And would have held my hand many other times had I not been a control freak like her.


She's the bravest person I know. Cancer ain't choosy; but I am and I choose her to beat it down with a huge stick until it cries for mercy, digs itself a hole with the huge stick and sucks its thumb like a baby.


Je 't'aime. x

Sunday, January 24, 2010

A dirty little secret

Mr Stef has a dirty little secret. It's not my place to say and I don't indulge in idle gossip.

What?

You want to know?

Well, you musn't tell anyone. Comprende?

Mr Stef is having an affair.

With two other women.

I'm okay with it. Really...truly I am.

You see it's an emotional affair. You might even say an affair of the heart. It's been going on for a long time.

I've known about it since we got together seven years ago. To be honest it was one of the stipulations of getting involved with him. I had to accept it. It was who he was and there was no way he would end it.

I've come to terms with it. It's taken a lot of time and patience. I won't say that it hasn't bothered me. There's definitely been ups and downs. Times when I didn't think I could go on.

Then Miss E was born, and of course I had to think of her.

I don't know the women that well. I'm only really able to distinguish them by their looks. I don't even want to know their names. I think if I did it would be like acknowledging it's okay? And I know its not.

You want to see them don't you? You want to know what they look like? I can't blame you, I did too. I'm a woman after all, and I needed to know what I was up against.

I've trawled my archives and found photo's. Before you look, please prepare yourself. One of them is taken when the kids were with him and her.







Mr Stef is a Muso. Yes, a musician. He plays brass instruments and its been the bane of my life for some time. Some people are golf widows, I'm a brass instrument widow. His flugel horn and trumpet mean SO much to him. I would even say he gives them more tlc than I get. Hmmph!

So Mr Stef's new pseudonym is.....Music Man. I tossed around a few ideas. Clean freak - he's more of a tidy freak or to-do-list freak though. Music Man just suits him don't you think? Look at him doing his bit for the local Brass band.

This week will be dedicated to the special folks in my life. I'll tell you a little bit about each and every one. Can't promise a dirty little secret on each, but i'll rack my brains!

My family and friends...be afraid. Be very afraid.

:o) xx



Thursday, January 21, 2010

My Day

Here's a little peek (or a wee keek for the Scots) into my Thursday morning...

7:13am
Rise from bed, get kids up, get kids breakfasted, have innumerable (a word?) conversations with Miss E and lots of smiles from Master L.

7:32am
Eat my toast and have obligatory cup of coffee whilst getting kids lunchboxes ready for Nursery and Pre-school.

7:52am
Get dressed, get kids dressed, wash faces, brush teeth, threaten Miss E with naughty spot if she doesn't start using her ears.

8:24am
Prise Miss E from riding bike in garage and insert into car seat. Chase Master L around the garage and firmly insert him into the other seat.

8:34am
Wander through house and realise I forgot what I was looking for.

8:35am
Retrace steps back to garage to work out what I'm missing.

8:35am
Miss E asks me if I found her shoes.

8:36am
Wander through house trying to find Miss E's shoes.

8:37am
Put shoes on Ella and get into car, reverse out driveway, off to Pre-school. It only started seven minutes ago.

9:10am
Home, no kids. Nackered. Need another coffee. Have another blasted conversation in my head about resolutions. So... put on these.








I know, glutton for punishment. But you know what, good habits are hard to form, bad habits are easy. I'm trying hard to be good :o)

The run today was a hard one. I started off well then realised that my inner voice was trying to tell me something. I can hear you inner voice, what's that?

My Body: "I'm trying to digest breakfast, will you just slow down"

My Brain: "No, push through, no pain no gain!"

Okay, so I had this conversation on and off over the 1/2 hour run. I ran for a solid 15 mins or so then did the old stop, start to the end. I did it though, I continued and completed and even ran more than I walked. That's the third run of the week and I've been pretty consistent this year.

Rest of the day went like this...

Shower, cold drink, set up sewing machine, start the fabric coasters i've been procrastinating about for an age, phone calls x 2, tidy kitchen, pick up Master L, Supermarket, home to put Master L to bed, Make and consume lunch, browse Net, prepare dinner, tidy kitchen, hang washing, tidy bits and bobs away, get Master L from his cot, cuddles and cold drink for my boy, pick up Miss E, pick up milkshake for the latter as promised, get home, give kids afternoon tea, put dinner in oven, clean bathrooms, clean stovetop, stop to have a bit of playtime with kiddo's, clean cooker top, front of fridge, front of dishwasher, do dishes.

Garage door opens, Daddy home! Yay, now I can have a rest. :)

Set table, discuss with Miss E about importance of eating dinner and not speaking with mouth full, Master L refuses to eat, Miss E refuses to eat, I decide to eat, argue with Miss E a bit more about eating dinner, give Master L a banana and a yogurt for dinner (his time will come for dinner arguments), clear table, load dishwasher, run bath, wipe kitchen bench, get kids in bath, get kids out of bath, fetch bedtime clothing, sweep kitchen floor, try to catch the news headlines, get Leo into bed, get Ella into bed.

Postscript - Daddy contributed to at least 34.7% of the workload after his arrival. Everyone knows that girls can work harder and faster than boys.

6:50pm
Silence.

What the....?

No noise. No questions. Nothing. Bliss.

Clock off time.

A whole lot of calories burned today, run excluded ;)

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

The Real Deal

When I go to bed at night, my brain often churns my thoughts through. Filing the actions of the day I suppose and planning for the next. Strangely last night I was thinking of recipes. In particular, Spaghetti Bolognese. Weird you might think? Odd perhaps? Not for me, this often happens. I'll start thinking of the ingredients and ways to adapt and improve. A bit like my quest to find the perfect, melt in your mouth meatball. My Spag Bol recipe has been adapted and improved over time and has recently had a 1/2 cup of red wine added to give it more depth of flavour. It's yum! But as I lay in bed, I thought about how the Italians would do it. Probably vastly different from what the rest of the world do I thought.

Then a strange thing happens. I sat down 1/2 an hour ago and looked at the BBC News Website, which isn't an unusual thing to do whilst eating lunch. I saw the headline and watched this. Italian Chefs campaign for better Bolognese. Often these things happen to me. I'll dream of something or think of it then it crops up somewhere over the next day or so. I don't understand it myself, i just know it happens.

Back to the Bolognese. I was stunned to see that the authentic stuff has white wine and milk in it - milk! And that they serve it with Tagliatelle, not Spaghetti. When working I used to do the good old brown mince and chuck over a jar of dolmio. Being a stay at home Mum and Domestic Goddess in training, my glorious homemade version has the following...
Minced beef, onion, garlic, stock, tinned tomatoes and basil,, carrot, courgettes (for our 5+ a day), a dash of balsamic vinegar, sugar, red wine, salt and pepper.

I'm tempted to try an authentic recipe now just to compare. Hopefully then I could gloat that I like mine better - but then I'd have to come up with another name for it as Bolognese wouldn't fit.

What do you put in yours?

Monday, January 18, 2010

Reflective


My baby's still in bed. Awful night, more crying and temper tantrums. Who'd have thought that a little boy could make so much noise. I dreamed lots last night and I'm in a bit of a reflective mood today. In fact have been since hearing of the horrific events of Haiti from last week. I wonder why we need a tragic event like this to make us stop and take stock of the important things in life? I think it makes us realise how fragile our existence is. There are awful things going on in the world. War, poverty, disease. Natural disasters. Living in New Zealand I am very aware that a large magnitude quake could happen at any time. What can we do about it though? Nothing. Have plans for the worst case; store emergency supplies and discuss a plan of action. We don't know when something might happen. We go about our daily lives and have a small thought of our mortality every now and then.

Then something like Haiti happens and we stop and think a bit more. Get more pensive. Hug our children for slightly longer than normal. The human life is such a fragile thing. Piper Alpha disaster. Princess Diana. Tsunami on Boxing Day. September 11. Reports of countless war torn regions. Samoa Tsunami, which was almost too close to bear. And now the poor people of Haiti. Many things in my lifetime.

Unfortunately these events will continue to occur. We cannot do anything to stop them. But we can help; make a donation, volunteer, donate items. Please stop today and spare a thought for the people of Haiti. For those in War torn countries. For the poor, sick, diseased and those in extreme poverty in the world. Hug those you love, tell them how important they are. Think about what you can do to help someone in need. Small or big, every bit counts.


Thursday, January 14, 2010

Bakin' bread



Give us this day our daily joy..ahem, i mean...bread.

This here is the third homemade loaf to eventuate this week. My mother-in-law loaned me her bakers oven a couple of years ago and i've used it intermittently. We used to only get through a shop bought loaf every 3 days or so. Now with two guzzle gut rascals and Mr (I inhale bread) Stef (i must think of a better blog name for him...) its more like every 1.5 days. Our freezer is measely and small. I daren't go to the supermarket every day. I can pop in for a $3 loaf of bread and spend $50 - how does that happen? Our financial advisor, if we had one, would go to an early grave. So, I am trying to get into a rythym of baking bread. Simple steps. Honestly. Simple. It's just a breadmaker after all...
  • Ingredients ready and prepared as per the instructions. Easy.
  • In they go; wet ingredients first. Done.
  • Dry ingredients next. A doddle.
  • Close the lid. Next!
  • Press start. Okey dokey then.
  • 5 mins later - open lid, check it's mixing.
  • 5 mins later. Open lid again, prod dough. Too hard, add more water.
  • 5 mins later. Open lid. Curse that the dough is now too wet. Add more flour.
  • 10 mins later. Be proud that i've left it 5 more mins than last time. Open lid.
  • 10 mins later. BEEEP. Dough cycle done. Open lid, check dough. Hmm, is it okay?
  • 30 mins later. Remove dough from pan, hand knead, hand shape and put in loaf tin.
  • Leave said bread to rise, observing its rise every 3-4 minutes until done.
  • Preheat oven
  • Place loaf in hot oven.
  • Check baking process every 3 minutes until done.
Now surely the key of having the breadmaker is to let the machine do everything? Yes? NO! Sorry. Didn't mean to shout. That's what your supposed to do, but I'm Stef. I'm the control freak. I can't just press start and leave it to do its thing and have a baked loaf ready for me in 3 hours. Nooooo. Nope. I don't even trust the blasted machine to bake the bread for me. I've got to remove the dough, knead it a few more times myself, shape and bake it in the oven. Yes, I open the door to the oven every 5 minutes too. Wrong I know, but I told you C-O-N-T-R-O-L freak.
Maybe just freak.
I'm taking baby steps to rectify this. One day, I will do the following.
  • Ingredients in, wet first, dry next, lid closed, press start. Leave house. 3 Hours later. Fresh bread
For now I'm content that there's actually been 3 loaves baked this week. I'll call that an achievement and leave it at that shall I?

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Milestones

Two very important milestones happened this week.

This. Doesn't he just look like a little man out for a stroll on his own?

And this.

Her: "Look Mum. No trainer wheels!"

Me: "And no shoes darling. You'll hurt yourself" *cringes*

Him? Well, he did it all in his own time two months after his sister did it. He's a whole 14 months old on Friday (where did that time go?). Wouldn't be prompted. Wouldn't be coerced. Just had to be left to it.

Her? She did it all in her own time. Wouldn't be helped. Couldn't be watched. Tenacious and determined to achieve her goal. She's was 3 years and 7 months yesterday.

Our determined, stubborn, independent kids. I can't imagine where they get it from.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Monday

Some people get the monday blues. Mr Stef did over the weekend. Back to work for him after over 2 weeks off. Bronchitis and 10 days of antibiotics meant his "holiday" was not the break he wanted. Poor him :(
7:07am. Back to work he went. YAY!! I get my house and my daily routine back. I'm happy. Not just happy that he's off to win the bread. I'm free. The clean freak has gone. I can get on with my domesticated bliss. I will do things only when I want to. He won't know I've gone out and left dishes on the worktop. That there are unswept crumbs on the floor. That a washing hasn't been put on and hung out. I'm FREE!! *waves arms*

8:36am. I miss him. He's gone. Off to win the bread. There's dishes on the worktop. Crumbs on the floor. The washing machine is looking very empty. We're all still in our pj's. Come back honey, all is forgiven.
I'm a lucky girl ;)

Thursday, January 7, 2010

habits.

Regular writing is hard to make a habit. I have a hard time making things a habit. That's a lie. I can make habits easily, usually bad ones.

I have a bad habit of;

Nagging Mr Stef, Miss E and myself when I procrastinate
Spending too much time procrastinating
Eating too much chocolate in one sitting
Leaving folded washing for ages before putting it away
Putting everyone else first, myself last
Making a mental to do list then forgetting what i've got to do

You see?


Here's the list of good habits I'd like to start;

Write more on my blog. Honest, from the heart blogging.
Bake fresh bread every day
Excercise regularly (less talking, more doing)
Write a to do list every day
Do what's on my to do list

So, new year, new habits. Anyone with me? Hello....? Okay, i'll make a start on my own then. Maybe. Tomorrow. The day after...

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