FlogYoBlog Friday: Pissed Parrot Edition

Squwaaaark Floggers!

Do you know what happens at this time of year in the Top End? Lemme give you a visual clue:

Squwarrrrk!

+

glug glug glug

=

Heeeyyyyy good lookin'

Yep, it's the time of year that parrots go on a bit of a bender by eating stacks of fermented fruit. If you're so inclined you can read more about it here.

What that article doesn't tell you though is that every year all the parrots put "Soooo hungover. But maaaan it was worth it! Good times!" as their Facebook status the next day.

So get squawking and get Flogging!

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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Postcards from the Edge (of Nepal)

Not content to just donate to charity, my sister, the fabulous Aunty Penny, is currently on a solo trip in Nepal teaching English to underprivileged kids at a monastery school.

Doesn't that sound so cool? It's a little bit Angelina Jolie of her, except that there are no rainbow babies and no Brad Pitt just a Sherpa with some teeth missing and a Yak.

So I've pilfered her photos and come up with this fabulous list. You're welcome.

The top 10 tips for traveling in Nepal

(by someone who hasn't actually gone there)

1. When traveling to Nepal you'll want to pack for a range of weather conditions. Make sure to borrow your sister's suitcase because it's bigger than yours and then ensure the lock malfunctions so you can't open it without the aid of a hacksaw

2. Getting around in Nepal is quite easy and cheap, especially if you use taxis with posters of Avril Lavigne on the roof

3. If you don't manage to find a teeny bopper taxi then you could always use a space craft to get around. It makes the trip to the top of Everest a hell of a lot quicker

4. Be sure to check out the markets because shopping is great in Nepal, especially for fabric

5. The Nepalese people have a rich, religious culture. While you're there, make sure to pay your respects to the Holy Men - they accept donations in the form of cash or shampoo for their two metre long dreadies

6. In the event of an earthquake, make your way to your nearest cafe and enjoy wine and wifi. Tweet home that you're safe and brag that you've now one-upped your sister who has never been in a natural disaster

7. Be careful of cows. They have right of way and will often just sit wherever the hell they like. Making hamburger jokes and mooing is optional

8. If a complete lack of local safety regulations doesn't bother you, strap yourself to a hunky man and jump off the side of a cliff. The view will be fabulous and if you land without dying or breaking your leg you'll have a great story to tell

9. If after your death defying paragliding stunt you need to unwind, consider a massage. Great for those who are "being in a heap" - performed with medicine oil by professional expert Miss Jelly

10. If you'd like to feel better about your rich white person status then head to a tiny village and teach English to some gorgeous kids who look like they're about to sing in a Qantas commercial. Pose for photos and give them lots and lots to stickers to shut them up encourage them

Miss you, Aunty Penny. Come back safely xxx

Have you traveled anywhere cool? Upload your strangest travel snap to the Where's My Glow? Facebook wall so we can all have a laugh.

~ Follow Aunty Penny on Twitter. Her #firstworldproblemsinathirdworldcountry tweets are hilarious ~

He Did What!? Wednesday - By Under The Windmills

Domestic Daddy - By Under The Windmills

I was headed back to work after having my second child, thus leaving The Husband at home alone for a whole day per weekend with Buzz and baby Gucci.

Now The Husband was (is) a wonderful father and provider, he was working hard all day to put bread on the table and arrived home each night just in time to eat some of the afore mentioned bread and give the kids a quick kiss goodnight. I was just a housewife after all, you know, chatting on the phone and watching Oprah all day, so he felt staying home for one day with them on the weekend while I went out to do 'real work' would be a breeze. Right???

So I wished him luck and headed out the door. Being a dutiful husband with an internal need to prove that his domestic skills were far superior to mine, the day started off well. He cleaned up the house, did the washing, changed the baby, made lunch for 18month old Buzz, fed the baby and put him down for a sleep and put on a video for Buzz and sat down to watch it with him. Perfect.

Unfortunately, The Husband, now exhausted from all these ‘simple’ household duties went and broke one of the cardinal rules of parenting a toddler.

He fell asleep.

The husband awoke bleary eyed approximately an hour later to the feeling of Buzz’s hand stroking his face. He mumbled something along the lines of ‘don’t do that’ only to realise in his semi-conscious state that Buzz’s hands in fact felt rather moist, how odd... and what was that horrible smell?

That was when he opened his eyes.

Buzz must have become bored of the video, as toddlers do and decided to make his own fun, he timed a convenient number 2, stuck his hand down his nappy and finger painted the lounge room, the couch, the TV, in fact I think sh!t may have literally even hit the fan. Then he must have gotten bored again and decided to go wake up Daddy by smearing it all over his face.

Lovely.

I don’t know exactly what happened next, and I am quite glad I wasn’t there to witness it, but I am certain that there was a lot of Pine O Clean and non G rated language involved. I returned home to a clean couch, clean walls, a clean Buzz, a very cranky looking husband and the faint smell of faeces still lingering in the air.

After that The Husband conveniently had to work weekends for a while, leaving the kids with my MIL. Strangely, she never had the same problem...

___ . . . ___ . . .  ___

Suzi blogs has blogged Under The Windmills about life, love and little ones since April. Contrary to what her picture suggests, she is not actually a smurf and is much less blue-green in real life.

She has four adorable kiddies and lives with them and her husband in do-er up-er house in a rural, one pub town. She loves clocks and all things pretty and cannot remember the last time she read a book that didn't have pictures in it.

She can be found hanging around on twitter with the most adorable dog avatar ever.

Next week: Foxy Lady

 Send your S/He Did What!? submissions to glowless@wheresmyglow.com

The Perfect Mother: The Perfect Fraud

I went to my friend's funeral yesterday. She was 29. But I can't say it without thinking twenty-fucking-nine. I'm 29. A beautiful, bright light has gone out and  my head is all over the place so forgive my emo rambles.

You know, I've never been a fan of posts that are scarily similar to what someone else has written. It's happened to me too often to believe it's just some cosmic coincidence that words I've written or images I have created just pop up elsewhere ever so slightly tweaked. Not actually plagiarism but just a half a baby step away.

And then I read part of a post that looks so much like something I have written. Contains almost an identical sentence... but I have not yet published it... and I freak out a bit. Can I now not say what I was going to say? Will they think I've copied them? If the shoe was on the other foot I would think that. So I scrapped it and I'm just going to start again, referencing Her Edenness because she said it first. Bitch.

I read New Eyes at Edenland the other day and it smacked me hard in the face. So hard I felt that tingle before the pain registers. Is it strange that I can physically feel words? I wonder if anyone else can? I've never asked.

There were, of course, major differences between what Eden wrote in her first few lines and what I had sitting here, unpublished, lurking behind the scenes. For starters she can actually write whereas I just blog. But self depreciation aside, that reconnecting she spoke about, without even knowing she was missing. Yeah that.

I knew I wasn't being a great mother to Tricky. I knew I was distant and just not fully present the way I should have been. You wouldn't have seen it, though. I still did everything I was meant to do... and I did it so bloody well that it didn't just fool you, it fooled me too. Now that I'm coming back though, I can see that I was so much farther away than I thought.

I was the perfect mother; babywearing, breastfeeding, homecooking, reading, singing, teaching. I was the perfect fraud.

When he would cry I would pick him up, cuddle him and say it would all be OK but on the inside, more often than not, I was screaming "FUCKING SHUT UP! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" And no one would have ever guessed. Not Map Guy (who knew, but didn't know just how deep it went). Not even Tricky who would still smile at me with bright, loving eyes.

When you keep everything on the inside, with Oscar-worthy acting, no one knows. No one knows you don't want to be there. That you don't want to spend time with your child. That you immerse yourself in social media in an effort to distract yourself from how much you truly despise yourself and your inability to connect with your son.

I was so far from being a 'good' mother that I didn't even quite make mediocre... and I can only see that now as the veil of anxiety lifts thanks to going back on medication.

I feel terrible for not having really been there for him. I tried many times in the proceeding months to go back on medication but the crippling anxiety stopped me from picking up the phone and making the appointment. Even now, I've not been back for my follow up... I cannot make the call. Not yet. Ahh irony, you are a bitch.

It rips my heart apart that I really don't know how long I've subjected him to such pathetic parenting... in a haze of sleep deprivation (we had a few months of sleeping through but not any more) this is all I remember. But it couldn't have been long... could it? How many months? Was I ever there? I just don't know. I am so used to pretending that the lines of reality have blurred.

We're connecting now, though. He seems the same but my smiles are genuine now. My patience is real and without sighs. My cuddles, once obligatory are now fierce and protective and I try to hold them longer until he squirms to go and do more important things like play blocks. I'm no longer just going through the motions. I want to be with him so much that I've been sneaking in to watch him sleep. I'm not feeling fantastic, but I'm feeling. And that has to be a good thing.

Comments are off for this emo post. Sorry.

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Slap Happy Edition

Hey hey, Floggers!

This week I'm bringing you a public service announcement of sorts. You're welcome.

Do you want bigger breasts but are tired of stuffing your bra with chicken fillets? Don't have the money or inclination for painful surgery? Well, here you go...

Just slap yourself around a bit and hey presto, bazookas.

Yep, you read that right.

You can go to Thailand and pay someone to pummel your norks ten times over with the aim of making them less Keira Knightly and more Pammy Anderson.

The fact that being beat you up can leave you swollen, and therefore temporarily bigger, should be ignored because it's actually Government approved!

When they come up with a method to reduce and lift, then I'll be all over it.

So go Flog yourself then slap yourself.

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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Meow! Gettin' Catty

Are you ready? Because the claws are coming out.

Earlier in the week, my soul sista Georgia from Parental Parody came over. Looking like this:

The Eagle Has Landed

Why am I putting up a photo where she's *ahem* looking so attractive? Well, because I'm a vengeful soul and must pay her back for the filth she introduced to my house. But also because I have a sign on my door saying anyone crossing the threshold agrees to being blogged about - it's next to my FOAD sign).

She'd been to Vietnam recently and whilst over there had texted me to brag tell me she was drinking cocktails out of buckets, flying the bogan Aussie flag with pride and had gotten me a little gift. She thinks of me on holiday - stalker much?

I love giftage. It makes up for not going and missing out on drinking cocktails bigger than my head.

I've written before about the perfect gift and I need to amend that post slightly. The Venn Diagram becomes null and void when gifts are intentionally bought to amuse and/or annoy the recipient.

Behold, the gift of doom:

Six Fucking Cats

Knowing just how much I hate cats I am more of a dog person, she thought it appropriate to smother me in all sorts of sneeze-inducing cat paraphernalia. Oh yes. She did. Bitch.

A cat backback, a cat purse, a cat pen, Audrey Catburn tissues (WTF?) and Hello Fucking Kitty shower cap and visor. It is so bad it is quite possibly the best present I've ever received.

Of course I had to model my hat and left it on for the remainder of our macaroon eating morning. If I have to go through the pain of wearing it then you can be sure I'm putting her through the pain of having to look at me. Don't I look so happy to get it?

Can anyone say ungrateful?

Tricky always steals my limelight

But not wanting to experience my cat-induced wrath, she threw in a couple of real pressies too in order to calm me enough so I didn't gouge out her eyes with a teaspoon. Funny AND smart, that chick has all bases covered.

Dark chocolate mint Tim Tams and calming tea. Nomalicious. Nawwww, isn't she so thoughtful?! I loves her so.

But... err... what do I do with it now?

What's the best worst present you've ever gotten?

He Did What!? Wednesday - By Parental Parody

Tight-Ass Tampons - By Parental Parody

I love my husband dearly.

Just let me get that out there before I launch into my He Did What?! rant story.

#1 Hubby phoned to say he was on his way home from work, and did I need anything?

Translation : Really not ready to pass the point of no return threshold and have you launch the kids on me just yet, so I’m hoping to kill some time by appearing helpful in offering to go to the shops, while giving myself a legitimate excuse to wander around, have a coffee, and make some unnecessary purchases, before I head home.

Totally wise to his game, I thought I’d test him.

Me : Yes Dear. Can you please get me some tampons.

Silence on the other end of the phone.

#1 Hubby : Erm…ahhh….okay, yep sure.

Me : Are you sure?

#1 Hubby : Yeah, yeah, okay, okay. Sure thing.

Me : Great, do you want to know which ones to get?

#1 Hubby : No, no. I know.

About an hour later, #1 Hubby arrived home looking calm.

I admit, I was a little disappointed by this. I was expecting to see him all red in the face, sweaty brow, completely frazzled after being confronted by multiple brand and size options in the tampon aisle of the supermarket.

He starts unpacking the shopping - the other “essentials” that he couldn’t pass up because they were on special.

There’s chips, chocolate, soap and toothpaste. Clearly he’s gone down 2 aisles only – junk food and toiletries.

Then he pulls out the tampons.

Are you ready for it ladies?

HOME BRAND

HOME freaking BRAND!

Now I’m not a brand snob. I’m quite partial to a Home Brand discount. In fact, I don’t recall the last time I bought staples like flour or sugar in anything other than Home Brand.

But lady products? Something that is going to go in there? Hell no!

He has spent more on a 2pack of soap, than he has on my tampons!

I am so freaking disgusted that I can’t even deal with him. Seriously. How does one explain – to a man – that, of all the areas to skimp on price, to buy the cheapest product you can find – feminine hygiene, something that goes inside your bloody body like TAMPONS – is a complete no-no.

So, instead of starting World War 3 while bitch slapping some sense into him trying to educate him to the enormity of his error…I’ve immediately sat down, fumed over my keyboard, and put it into a He Did What?! post for the awesome Glowless. Because she has more followers than me, and therefore ensures maximum “name and shame” exposure for #1 Hubby’s serious faux pas.

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Aren't we cute?!

Georgia from Parental Parody is the bomb. Seriously. When she comes anywhere near you, you'll get a warm fuzzy feeling in the cockles.

She speaks fluent sarcasm and can often be found drinking wine out of a goon bag in order to maintain some form of sanity after wrangling a five year old tween and two year old twin tornadoes.

Most importantly though, she laughs at my jokes and convinces #1 Hubby to give me a lift home after we've been out partying together.

Stalk her on Facebook... you know you want to.

Next week: Go under the windmills with Suzi

 Send your S/He Did What!? submissions to glowless@wheresmyglow.com

10 Things You Didn't Want To Know

The fabulous St Murphy tagged me in a post aaages ago and I figure it's about time I got on with it and created this fab list because this little corner of the blogosphere is getting way emo lately.

So here it is. 10 things you didn't want to know about yours truly.

1. I can turn my arms around almost 360 degrees. It's an awesome party trick and is great for creeping out people but I cannot for the life of me remember how I figured out I could do it but I'm bendy like a pretzel thanks to hypermobile joints. I'll vlog it for you one day.

2. When I was little I used to think the emergency stopping lane next to the freeway was actually an emergency shopping lane. I imagine that if you were on your way to someone's house when you realized you'd forgotten to grab something for morning tea you could pull in to it and it would lead you directly to the shops.

3. I have been known to eat slices of apple dipped in Nutella. Actually sometimes I don't even bother to cut it up and just slather it over the outside. I come away with a bit of a Nutella mo' but it's totally worth it.

4. Going in to a toilet immediately after a woman and finding the toilet seat up kinda freaks me out a bit.

Yes, this is my toilet.

5. Sitting on a chair when it is still warm from someone else's bum makes me dry retch. I realize there has been no touching of flesh but the idea of my bottom stewing in someone else's farts just does not sit well with me.

6. I'm scared of anything that moves unpredictably. This includes cockroaches, jumping spiders, crickets and drunken teenagers. 

7. I've never ever had a credit card. It's less about being responsible and more about not having any trust in myself to resist shiny things.

8. I generally take really short showers, like a few minutes at the most, and I have no idea how people can stay in there any longer than that. Don't you get bored?

9. I am a snorer. Of the chainsaw variety. When looking for roomates for Blogopolis I was shitting myself that I would not be able to find another person willing to admit their nocturnal noises weren't the prettiest. Until I found Kelley. Except she says I make cute snoring noises. I think Map Guy would disagree with her.

10. I watch movies that I love over and over and over again until I know all the words. If it's a sad movie though I'll fast forward through the sad bits and just pretend it didn't happen.

Now that your life is complete from knowing these 10 things, it is time for me to pass the torch...
Miss Pink @ The Mummy Autobiography, Jen @ Four Bees at Home, Lil @ Going Left and Kellie @ The Good, The Bad & The Unnecessary. Go forth and tell me 10 things I didn't really want to know.

Tell me something about YOU that I don't need to know.

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Time Flies Edition

Hey hey Flogerinos.

Where were you this time last year? Do you remember? I know exactly where I was and can even tell you what I was wearing, what I ate and who I saw...

Yesterday marks exactly one year since my then three month old Tricky had his first surgery to correct his Craniosynostosis. Our Cranioversary!

Where has the time gone? I remember it like it was yesterday. The waiting, the bandages, the swelling, the morphine and the extremely uncomfortable 'sleeper' chair that was most definitely not made for sleeping in.

I remember thinking, even though my boy was having his skull cracked open, how lucky we were. A funky noggin is nothing in the scheme of things, really. 

It has been a massive twelve months and a particularly taxing month so I'm taking a slight step back from the blog. I will still be here but I not going to commit to posting every weekday like I have been.

I need a bex and a lie down I think. And a Flog, obviously.

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

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R U OK? R U On Time?

This morning I was meant to attend the Perth R U OK? Day event at Gloria Jeans and live blog it, but there was a slight problem (other than me not prepared to share the ins and outs of my own story)...

According to the event invite I was sent, the whole thing was starting at 6:30am and there was buckley's chance I was going to get there that early so I checked if it would be OK if I could get there around 8:30-9:00am. Yes that's fine, they said, but could you please be available til it ends? No problems. Let's rock and roll.

It took me a whole hour to get there so I was ten minutes later than I expected. Being late is one of my major fears. I pride myself on being reliable and on time, so if I'm late for anything (including flights) I freak out. I walked in to find the dregs of a crowd milling round and having a chat. It was all over. Panic stations.

I walked up to the roped off area and was looked up and down by the manager. I smiled nervously. She completely ignored me and continued talking to who ever it was that was standing next to her. I asked if I could please get through and she looked at me like I was just there to try and score a free coffee, and took a half step to the side so I could squeeze through.

The few people left were chatting in their own little groups so I stood there alone feeling like a third wheel. I started having a bit of a panic attack. People with R U OK? Day shirts looked at me and with my body language and face saying "help me", they quickly looked away. Did I have something on my face? Was there spinach in my teeth or something?

Standing there, very obviously not OK at an R U OK? Day event and no one gave a shit, too consumed in their own conversations. The irony is not lost on me.

Only one person came up to me - Will, a Gloria Jeans employee. He asked if he could help me and after telling him I was late and I'd missed it he asked if I'd like a drink. I considered asking for vodka but settled on a hot chocolate which he went and got for me. One bloody person spoke to me because they were being paid to.

I was really aware that I'd said I would be there and blog it and that I was letting people down. So I sat down, drank my hot chocolate while blinking away my tears (sending texts to Map Guy telling him what was happening) and calmed myself down before asking a volunteer why it was over so early. She said that it was always going to be 8:00-9:00am. Right.

So why was I told turning up at 9:00-11:00am would be fine? I was no longer sad... I was angry. I organized a babysitter and drove for an hour to do this. All for nothing.

I decided to get proof that I'd at least gone so I had a paparazzi moment and a quick chat with Hockeyroo Rachael Lynch who was lovely and not only knew what a blog was but has one herself and asked what I blogged about.

Rachael Lynch looking gorgeous and me with puffy eyes from nearly crying

I looked around and everyone was packing up so I saw no point in staying around any longer so I left. I'd been there fifteen minutes. So much for an 11:00am finish.

Overall, I was really disappointed. If you want someone to live blog your event an accurate time would be helpful. And if you see someone trying not to cry at your event about depression, maybe you could start practicing what you preach.

My bad experience aside, I still believe whole heartedly in the concept and the meaning behind the day, even if it is somewhat lacking in tangible ways to finish or continue the conversation they're asking us to start. So ask someone. Start that conversation. Do it today and keep doing it.

EDIT: I'm thinking that they never received my email checking that I could come at 8:30-9:00am and only the original one when I was talking about arriving at 8:00am. I have to believe that. Otherwise I feel too let down. Still would have been nice to know that an event with a four hour time span according to the invite was actually only one hour.

He Did What!? Wednesday - By Eat Play Bond

Singin' In The Rain - By Eat Play Bond

My dear husband has many great qualities, he is very handy – he can build garages and renovate bathrooms; he can open the tightest pasta sauce bottles and rarely objects to copping a dirty nappy.

But chivalry has never been his strong suit. Mostly I am fine with this as I am not much of a girly girl and I prefer to do things myself anyway, but sometimes I have to wonder what it would be like to be treated like a lady…

One weekend we had plans to meet some friends at the pub for lunch. It had been pouring rain all morning and I was not all that keen on venturing out in the weather especially with a rowdy toddler in tow. As it drew closer to our booking the weather had improved so we figured that we may as well go, especially since hubby had already psyched himself up for a schnitty.

We loaded everything into the car and made our way to the pub, it was roughly a 30 minute drive from our place and it drizzled with rain the whole way, but not enough to be a problem. The pub was surprisingly packed considering the weather and we couldn’t get a park in the car park so we had to go down the street a bit to find a space. Once we had parked and husband was getting our daughter out of the car it started teaming down with rain. Luckily I remembered that we had an umbrella in the back of the car so I pulled it out and ran around to the other side of the car to shield them both from the downpour.

Once our daughter was out of the car we turned to walk towards the pub when all of a sudden I feel the umbrella get ripped out of my hands as I see dear husband bolt across the road with daughter tucked under his arm. Stunned I ran after him, possibly hurling abuse at the same time until we reached the shelter of the covered walkway. I was breathless from the sprint and quite certain I had steam coming from the top of my head but I was still yelling. Confused, he turned to see what all the noise was about only to see me standing beside him drenched down my entire right side with my hair plastered to my forehead and my mascara on my cheeks. I asked him why on earth he had taken off with the umbrella and he said that he didn’t want our child to get wet! Well, as long as you were concerned for the comfort and welfare of our little one, please, carry on.

I couldn’t help but wonder where he thought the umbrella had magically appeared from before it came to be in his possession but I was both humiliated and relieved to see that our friends had actually had the pleasure of watching the whole scene from their table. I sat through the entire lunch cold and with wet pants, but at least I didn’t have to explain to them why I had arrived looking like a drowned rat with bad makeup. I have since learnt my lesson and the car now has 2 umbrellas on standby should we ever find ourselves in a similar situation.

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Erin from Eat Play Bond is a super fab mama to one little gorgeous girl named Skye, though she answers to many nicknames including 'Punky Monkey' and 'Pumpkin Head'.

Before becoming a stay at home goddess, Erin was a wedding coordinator, an events manager and marketing pro meaning she can handle just about anything you throw at her, all while smiling and telling you your wedding dress looks amazing.

She can be found on Facebook and Twitter too.

Next week: Parental Parody has another crack
 Send your S/He Did What!? submissions to glowless@wheresmyglow.com
Please include a photo of yourself and all relevant links

Laryngitis: Creating Phone Sex Workers Since 1877

I have Laryngitis.

What does a Blogger, equipped with an iPad do when she has Laryngitis?

Vlog, of course.





And then I went on to charge $4.95 for people to call me on 1800 GLOW JOB. As you do.

No More Chimes to Turn The Page - Hallmark Review & Giveaway

Do you remember the read along books where you'd hear the bells and it was time to turn the page? I loved them. We had so many different titles and Aunty Penny and I would sit and play them over and over again until I got bored and either pulled her hair or went and played dolls.

The folk at Hallmark sent me a recordable storybook for Tricky and they've come a LONG way since then. With the old ones, the tape would keep going whether you were keeping up or not... with these, the sound is recorded, in your own voice, and is only played when on that page (fancy light sensors).

We had a bit of a play:






Now nothing beats sitting down and spending time reading, sounding out the words and interacting with the story, but these would be good as a 'sometimes' reader (like a sometimes food, ya know?) perhaps when you've left the kids with a babysitter, or if you're on a road trip and the second you look at a book in a moving vehicle you throw up... or something.

The musical introduction for each page is a little long and distracting for someone as young as Tricky, who just wanted to turn the page for more music, so I think it would suit a slightly older child more. So these are going on the shelf for a few months and they'll be brought back down when he's ready.

Thanks to Hallmark I have TWO books to give away and you can choose from one of five titles. To enter leave a comment below telling me what you'd do in the five minutes of free time you would get when the book reads to your children. I'd play on twitter, obviously.

Entry is open to Australian residents only. Entries close at 10pm AEST on Monday 19th September 2011 at which time a winner will be chosen using a random number generator. Make sure you sign in to the comment platform with a valid email address/twitter handle or leave your details as part of your comment so you can be contacted. Winner has one week to reply to notification, failing that, the prize will be redrawn. The prize is provided by Communicado and Hallmark and is not transferable.  
Winner to choose from the following available titles: Winnie The Pooh’s Plan Bee, All The Ways I Love You, My Little Princess, Hey Diddle Diddle, and Lightening McQueen and His Winning Team.

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Infomercial Edition

Hey Floggers, Have I got a deal for you!

It's FlogYoBlog Friday. Your chance to be involved in a fabulous blog hop. FlogYoBlog will not only promote your blog, but it will also:

• make your skin clearer*
• remove unwanted body hair*
• tone and tighten your abs*
• lift and shape your breasts*
• cook a roast chicken to perfection*
• improve your sex life*

But wait, there's more.

A free set of steak knives!!! Everyone needs steak knives right!!

But there's still more! Right now when you Flog there's a special offer. If you call Global Glow Direct now on 1800 SCAM YOU you'll receive not one but TWO useless bonus gifts of whatever I was selling at this time last year that I can't get rid of!

Flog NOW! 

*individual results may vary

How to FlogYoBlog

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

<center><a href=" http://www.wheresmyglow.com/search/label/FlogYoBlog "><img src=" http://i695.photobucket.com/albums/vv316/mummy-time/FlogYoBlog/flogyoblog-1.jpg " border="0" alt="FYBF" /></a> </center>



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What is OK, anyway?

With R U OK Day just around the corner the blogosphere is exploding with posts about mental illness. I was approached to blog and tweet the Perth launch thanks to the ever wonderful Madam Bipolar passing on my details to people in the right places, and such is my ability to over commit, I said yes... but before that, I wasn't planning on writing anything. But now I feel obliged to share at least something...

I have resisted writing anything so far because it makes me uneasy. Words and images spiral around my head a thousand times making me dizzy. My chest tightens, my vision blurs, my stomach churns and my hands go numb. Do you know how hard it is to type with numb hands?

See, things have not been so good lately, and I am most definitely not OK. There are a number of factors, but the cumulative effects of a year of stress: watching my precious Tricky have two lots of surgery, my Dad having major open heart surgery (that has fixed only one of his heart problems) and seeing my grandfather get sick and watching him die a few weeks ago have contributed. That's three of the four major male players in my life. I tell Map Guy he should watch his back, he's the only one who has been fine. So last week, after two years drug free, I started taking medication again.




Surely, someone like me, who has spoken, albeit briefly and not in any detail, about having a mental illness, would be jumping on the bandwagon straight away, right? Sharing my tales of woe and recurrent hospitalizations and then the subsequent triumph, the survival. Beating my drum about how the stigma of mental illness needs to be torn down brick by brick with great celebration. Quite possibly even involving David Hasslehoff singing on the sidelines. But I just can't.

I applaud those who have been courageous enough to share their stories, but I must confess I have trouble reading them. Their words bring it all back for me so vividly I can taste the desperation that was my constant bed fellow for so long.

The brain is a funny thing, you see. Especially in someone as broken as I am.

One of my peculiar quirks is the inability to have any sort of closure. Every emotion for every significant event is just under the surface, despite years and years of therapy to try and "get over" things, it all remains there, waiting, just below the surface.

For me, talking about any of my trauma is like picking a fresh scab. The moment I think about it, the mouth of the wound will yawn open and fresh blood will pour out. There is no toughened scar tissue yet, and unless you count my Red Hot Chilli Peppers CD, there probably never will be.

My story, even though the biggest, scariest chapters are a few years old, is still too fresh. The wounds too raw... and, they will always be that way.

So no, I'm not OK, and I never will be... and that's OK (but what is OK anyway?). Don't feel sorry for me, I have accepted that this is what my life is. Therapy, medication and having to be constantly vigilant for triggers. Sometimes I succeed at this, sometimes I don't.

I hypocritically encourage you to share your stories though, ask R U OK? and to answer honestly when someone asks it of you, even though I can't.

R U OK?

If you're experiencing a mental health crisis at the moment
contact Lifeline on 13 11 14

He Did What!? Wednesday - By A Baby Called Max

Diagnosis: Man Flu - By A Baby Called Max

I’m only a newbie reader to ‘Where’s My Glow?’, but couldn’t resist responding to a tweet call out asking for stories that earnt the response “he did what?!?!”

My husband did just that. When I was 37 weeks pregnant.

You see, he went out with the boys one night, which in itself should have earnt him a “he did what?!” (what … with the distinct possibility that I could have gone into labour early with our first born child, while he was blind. drunk!). But no, that wasn’t the moment that this little story is about. It happened the next day, when he was flaked out on the couch, hungover beyond description, begging me not to make him come grocery shopping with him as he was “not in a good way”. Bastard.

So off I waddled. Took my first time pregnant arse (who took the eating for two thing a little too liberally whilst pregnant) off to Coles. On my own. Angry. And thinking I was a god damn pregnant superhero. I got all the groceries. All of them. And came home even more pissed off than when I left.

And he was still on the couch when I got home. Watching as his 37 week pregnant wife struggled in with all of the groceries. Not a move from Mr. Chivalrous. And then I went back to the car to bring in a sack of potatoes. On each arm! And it was only then that he looked up and asked, “are you right there, babe?”.

He did what?!

Yes. He really did. Jerk … ;)

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

Cherie is from A Baby Called Max. Or, more accurately, a baby called Max is from Cherie.

Originally from Radelaide but now living it up in Melbourne, she's a writer at heart but also a registered nurse who loves to cook.

A married mama of one (the afore mentioned Max), Cherie says she's not cool, calm and collected but the chaotic scene she finds herself in is most definitely a blissful one.

Her blog is super pretty with birds, butterflies and bunting. You can check her out on Facebook and on Twitter.

Next week: Let's Bond with Erin

Send your He Did What!? Wednesday submissions to glowless@wheresmyglow.com

DON'T MAKE ME BEG!

In Which I Tell A Giant Telco To Bugger Off

There are a few things in life that were mildly annoying before, but now, since procreating, have become rage-worthy. They make me a rageaholic (I'm addicted to rageahol).

Right now, at the top of my list of people to make evil eyes at (because that's about as scary as I get) are people who wake my sleeping, sick bubba.

I'm a tad peeved at Hellstra Telstra right now. Actually if I was to speak bluntly, there would be words that rhymed with duck and, since I'm so cranky, probably hunt too. I'm such a lady.

Every month, without fail, some random guy with a Telstra shirt and and an I'm-So-Important clipboard will knock on my door.

They always manage to time it when Tricky is asleep. And they always manage to wake him. How do they know the exact moment?

And why do they always try my door first to see if it's open before knocking on it? Were you just gonna waltz on in, Telstra man?? You'd be met by a rather stabby mama bear if you did. 

Rather sick of it, I did what any self respecting passive aggressive Twitter addict would do and tweeted them:

 

 

 

 

(link was to the Do-Not-Call Register)

 

Customer still unhappy? Just repeat what you said earlier and hope they give up...

Yes, Telstra, I "seriously do not want unwanted door knockers". That's why they're called unwanted. Duh.

So I will play your game, oh mighty, monopolizing one, and I will put up this lovely sign on my door:

Do you have a stack of seriously not wanted unwanted doorknockers in your area? Do you pretend you're not home or release the hounds?

Idiot Box

We're not big TV watchers at Casa de Glow. Well, we weren't. Now we are because Map Guy bought a 42 inch LCD screen with his tax return, so it is literally a big TV, and we're going through that honeymoon phase that you get with all new appliances and are glued to the idiot box most nights watching ABC or SBS (because we're smarmy and like to think we're smart by shunning commercial stations).

Even old TV shows and DVDs we've watched 100 times before are getting another go just to check out the sound and picture quality. It has Map Guy foaming at the mouth.

The magic of the moving pictures has not been lost on Tricky either. He's allowed to watch a bit of TV in the morning (or a lot if it's one of those days). He casts his eyes upwards and sees Iggle Piggle or Big Bird or Peppa Pig towering over him. His eyes boggle and you can see his brain switch off.

But there is one show that sucks him in like no other; it makes him giggle and clap his hands whilst dancing... and I'm ashamed to admit, it has me sucked in too. The animation, the voices, the feel good stories, you name it, I love it. The theme song gets stuck in my head for days at a time and I go around the house singing it, sounding like a moron (but hey, at least it keeps Tricky still at change times).

So to spread the ear-wormy goodness of Tricky's favourite song, we recorded this (quite blurry video) really really early yesterday morning while Map Guy was having his Father's Day sleep in. Enjoy!






Do you have a favourite kid's show? Do you know all the words to the theme song?

FlogYoBlog Friday: The Father's Day Edition

Howdy once again Floggers!

This Sunday is Father's Day in Australia which means at this very moment there are kids everywhere making really awful beautiful hand made cards.

It's Map Guy's second Father's Day so on one hand it's slightly less special than last year, but on the other hand, Tricky will be able to wake his Dada up this year with snuggly morning cuddles (aka jumping up and down on his head).

Map Guy (who subscribes to the blog but doesn't actually read it) is getting this gorgeous photo of himself and Tricky on the beach at Cervantes in Western Australia, in a nice frame.

Nawww, so cute. It's prolly the best photo I've ever taken and it's completely raw, no Instagram filters for once. Enough schmaltzy photos, let's Flog, baby!

How to FlogYoBlog

(The shortened version!)

1. Follow Where's My Glow? (yep, I like seeing the numbers go up, sue me)
2. Bow down at the alter of Mummy Time; Blog-goddess, all round groovy gal and creator of FYBF
3. Grab the FYBF button and post it on your sidebar or in the post you're linking up
4. Link in your favourite/best post from the week (don't just put your homepage URL)
5. Follow at least 1 linkyer/blogger then be nice and spread the comment love

<center><a href=" http://www.wheresmyglow.com/search/label/FlogYoBlog "><img src=" http://i695.photobucket.com/albums/vv316/mummy-time/FlogYoBlog/flogyoblog-1.jpg " border="0" alt="FYBF" /></a> </center>
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P.S. Eloise Verlaque, you won the Typo voucher for your awesome haiku, but you haven't responded to the email. You've got til the end of the day to do so - check your spam filter :)