For Frock’s Sake

Something I say almost everyday...

Everyone likes to look nice. Even when just heading out to do the groceries you always feel better if you’ve put in a bit of effort to look ok. The problem is these days that my ‘looking ok’ consists of trackies, a t-shirt and, wait for it, a pair of thongs. Yep I fit right in at good old Marketown (the shopping centre in town). It would be safe to say that I’m more than entrenched in ‘Mummy Mode’. Mummy Mode consists of getting up and making sure the baby has had her bottle, breakfast, a clean nappy and a cute outfit on, and I get a shower, wet hair in a pony tail and a tracksuit. Any time I used to have perusing my wardrobe for something to wear is now spent washing up bottles and sterilising them along with pureeing and pureeing and some more pureeing.

I think that like most women, especially Mum’s there’s a gaping big hole in my wardrobe. No my crazy architect husband din’t design some weird wardrobe (although I wouldn’t put it past him), I feel that my range of clothes is lacking a middle ground. I have a gazillion, yes gazillion t-shirts, singlet tops, tracksuit pants, 3/4 cargo pants and more pairs of thongs than you can poke a stick at. I have gorgeous gorgeous cocktail dresses and about 20 maxi dresses. Now the maxi dresses used to be my go to outfit all the time, paired with a little cardi on the cooler days and I thought I was looking a oh k. But now. Well after 6 months of breastfeeding, the girls, puppies, twins, whatever you want to call them, how about boobs, just aren’t what they used to be. Short of walking around with my arms in the air to give them a nice lift, I can’t get away with not wearing a bra anymore. And unfortunately most of maxi’s aren’t bra friendly.

So back to the gaping hole. I feel I lack some casual sophistication in my ensembles, as in, I don’t have any of it. Granted I have some lovely tops that look great with jeans, but they don’t fit me anymore, not across the boobs and definitely not across the tummy. I am so tempted to wear a pair of spanks on a day to day basis even though my husband thinks that’s taking it to a whole other level of ridiculousness.

So on Saturday we went on a little shopping trip. My mum looked after Sophie (she loves any chance to get her all to herself) and about 2pm John and I hit the shops. I wanted a new pair of jeans, and a nice top to wear to my Nonna’s upcoming 80th birthday. The jeans were quite successful and I found a nice pair of Lee jeans that weren’t too low cut, I didn’t want to be that mum with her arse always hanging out, and they were a great colour. The girls in the shops were lovely. Delightful even. I didn’t feel uncomfortable and unfashionable like I usually do and of course I got the obligatory aaaaaawwwww’s when I told them I was a new mum and this was my first pair of non maternity jeans since Soph was born.

Next came tops. I could have cried when a size L shirt didn’t fit me in General Pants Co. I wouldn’t consider myself a big person. Maybe a 12, possibly sometimes a 14 at the moment with the extra boob baggage, but nope, no luck with the Large. We went to several other shops before I hit a wall. Thankfully not literally, although the rate we were going a face smack would have been more fun than trying to find a damn top. The fitted one’s made me look like I was about 5 months pregnant and the more flowing one’s made me look like I was about 7 months pregnant and trying to cover it up. I then became too tired and too cranky to care. “I’ll just wear my pyjama’s” I said to John. By that time he had had enough too!

You see the truth is as a new Mum I don’t know what to wear. Probably not much different to what I wore before I guess. I could go and replace my lovely tops with bigger sizes, but they’re only going to get puked on or have mashed broccoli thrown in their general direction. Plus I don’t think a silk Country Road top is all that appropriate for doing the groceries. I could wear plain tops and accessorise. But these days Sophie will put anything from the dog’s tail to the TV remote in her mouth, so the last thing I need to do is tease her with dangly necklace’s and earrings.

At least winter is only just around the corner and jeans, boots, a jacket and different colour scarves should get me through. Soph will have fun munching on the scarves. And as for the tracksuits; they’ll always be my non-fashionable best friend.

Where’s Trinny and Susannah when you need them…

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Barking Mad

Recently there has been an increase in pooches in our area. And unlike our perfect pooch who just likes to chill out during the day, these dogs bark. ALL. THE. TIME. The one directly across the road, barks and cries most of the day. The one diagonally across the road howls most the day. The one diagonally behind us barks during the day and night. And the one across the other corner yaps. YAPS during the day. And YAPS during the night.

Yes it is only when he is left, and it seems the other dogs too. Our pooch Jack is lucky that I’m home a lot of the time. But people have to go to work, so these dogs are left a lot of the day.

So the yapper got so bad one night that we messaged our neighbours. They felt awful and left a little card in our letterbox apologising. I then felt bad that we had complained. Then the other night the dog yapped from 9pm till 12.45am. I was reluctantly half way through messaging the owners when their car pulled up and the dog ran back inside through his doggy door. We didn’t send the message, but part of me wished we had so the owners knew what had been going on.

To say we’ve become a little precious about our sleep is an understatement. Every parent knows how important it is to get as much sleep as you can when you can. Sophie thankfully has been sleeping through the night on and off for the past month, yet we haven’t been able to get a full night sleep. Whether it’s the stinking hot weather, people walking past outside making noise, or the bloody dogs barking, a full uninterrupted nights sleep has eluded us.

The point to my rambling is this. I fear that I’m turning into an annoying whinging neighbour, and an old fuddy duddy. While we didn’t end up sending the message the other night to the yappy dog owners, if it happens again, I fear I won’t hesitate to let them know their dog has been keeping us up for hours yapping his little head off.

I don’t want to piss the neighbours off and you know, end up on Today Tonight, but surely there must come a time when enough is enough?

Would you have a whinge? Or just grin and bear it?

I just don’t get it…

To quote the great Pearl Smooter from Sweet Home Alabama, “Don’t get me started on the things I don’t understand”, because frankly I would be here all day. But since we’re chatting I’d like to share a few with you.

I don’t understand why people rush at the airport departure gate to get on the plane. It’s not like we’re all fighting to get a seat. Check your boarding passes people, there’s a special seat saved just for you!

I don’t understand why people waiting for a lift stand so close to the doors. AND then don’t move when people getting off the lift need to get out. Seriously people the lift isn’t going to disappear into thin air before you can get in. Get out of the way and give the people getting off SOME ROOM.

I don’t understand why some people feel the need to destroy other people’s property or public property. How about I get something from your house and set it on fire, or cover it in spray paint. You wouldn’t like that so much I bet.

I don’t understand how my husband thought I’d find the following conversation amusing:

Hubby: You’ve done well throughout this pregnany, just big a beach ball tummy.

Me: Yeah I haven’t put on that much weight, but my bum’s a big bigger.

Hubby: What do you mean? You always had a big bum.

Yes my husband is hilarious. Pfft, men.

Anyway! And now to the point of this post. Yes don’t be so surprised, there is a point, it’s just that my mushy baby brain isn’t working as per usual at the moment.

I don’t understand why people think it’s ok to short change you for something you’ve paid for. Let me tell you a story. The other week my friend went for a 1 hour massage that her hubby had bought her for her birthday. Her appointment was at 5pm. She arrived at 4.50pm. The massage therapist finally came and got her about 5.10pm. Then left her to change and get organised. By the time she came back it was about 5.15pm/5.20pm.

Then at 6pm the massage therapist said to my friend, ok time to turn over. She snuck a look at the clock, noticed it was 6pm and thought oh good I’ve probably got another 15 minutes or so, and she was looking forward to the scalp massage. Nope, she was wrong. “Ok” said the massage therapist, “all done”.

Hmmph thought my friend, that wasn’t an hour. As she got dressed and made her way out to reception she contemplated saying something to the receptionist, but the massage therapist followed her out there and then there were other people in the waiting room. When she got home and told her hubby, she thought about calling them, but then wondered what good it would do.

Unfortunately I’ve had the exact same thing happen to me, but at a different place. And it wouldn’t surprise me if there’s many many other people with the same complaint. If the massage therapist was running late, then that’s not the clients fault. If you pay for an hour, then you should get an hour. No questions about it.

On the other side of the coin, I had a body treatment at a spa once and when I went to the reception counter after the treatment the lady said, ‘Oh I’m sorry the therapist seems to have finished about 20 minutes early, here’s a voucher for a 30 minute facial’. I nearly fell over!

Noone likes to feel like they’ve been ripped off, but it can also be hard to say something without feeling like you’re causing a fuss.

So, if you had’ve been in my friends shoes would you have said something? Have you ever had a similar experience and said something or not said something?