We’re all guilty of judging other parents, and offering advice, but what happens when judgement is misplaced and unneccesary.

Recently someone commented that they can’t wait for John and I to have a second child, implying that we’d then appreciate how hard parenthood really is. Because apparently John shot their child ‘a look’ when their child was misbehaving and the parents were doing nothing about it. Did the comment piss me off much? Um, yes just a tad. To fully appreciate this comment, let me start at the beginning.

When I was pregnant there were many, many people rubbing their hands together smiling like a stupid cheshire cat waiting to see how my darling ex-bachelor husband would handle fatherhood. I even had the suggestion made to me that if we sold tickets there’d be a line around the corner wanting to catch a glimpse of John in the early days of fatherhood.

I could have easily jumped up and down telling everyone to stick there comments where the sun don’t shine, instead I smiled sweetly and rubbed my own hands together knowing full well they’d all be shot down when John turned out to be a wonderful Dad. I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t think he’d make a wonderful father. And of course his little girl came into the world, melted his heart and had him changing nappies before he could ask, what’s that smell?!

John’s own father even commented he was pleasently surprised at what a hands on Dad his son was. No pleasent surprise for me, I always knew he would be.

So our gorgeous daughter has been and is a wonderful baby, full of personality and cheekiness, a good sleeper and a good little eater. That’s not to say we don’t have shitty days or shitty nights, but over all we’d like to think we’re doing a pretty darn good job. So why not compliment this instead of being negative and making comments like the one that started this whole rant.

I don’t doubt that 2 kids is much harder than 1, but it doesn’t necassrily mean that you know more or are better parents then someone else because you have more children.

The most amazing pieces of advice usually come from those who don’t actually have children of their own. I was recently told that I needed to put more effort into my blog. I needed to get myself and Sophie into a routine and set aside blogging time for myself to improve my blog.

How nice would that be, regular time set aside for myself to blog. That would be great. In a perfect world. And we all know that said perfect world, unfortunatelty does not exist. While Sophie is in a great routine (thank you ‘Save our Sleep’) not everything is the same everyday. I’d love to say, right I’m going to blog every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But what happens when Tuesday night Sophie screams for an hour at 11pm because her mouth is hurting from teething. Or we sit up at the hospital for 3hours from 1am because her temperature sky rockets to nearly 40 degrees. Or when I put her down for afternoon nap and sit down for my scheduled blogging time and she throws up all over her cot.

Unfortunately as I’ve mentioned before this blog has taken a back seat to motherhood, and rightly so. Posts are few and far between but blogging doesn’t always have to be everyday, or always 3 times a week. Most bloggers aren’t paid for their writing (happy for that to change if anyone wants to pay me!), it’s all for the love, and in my case, it’s cheaper than therapy.

So back to my original rant about judgement. At the end of the day, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. And before you judge another parent, just remember, we’re all doing the hardest job in the world, all with different children, all with different beliefs. And don’t forget to look in your own backyard before criticising others.

Rant over.

If only this was my wardrobe! (Image)

Sophie, my 14 month old and I have one big thing in common: we were literally busting out of our wardrobes. Last week I came to the end of putting up with what was a very messy little girl’s wardrobe. You see, I’m actually quite an organised person. I like things neat and tidy, but behind Sophie’s wardrobe doors was anything but neat and tidy. As she grew I bought more clothes but just put them on top of the old clothes. It didn’t take long before the drawers were bursting at the seams and the hanging space rivaled a very squashed retail sales rack.

So with the latest basket of washing staring at me to be put away, I decided to begin. Begin tidying up Sophie’s wardrobe. I pulled out all her clothes and sorted them into what was far too small and what actually fitted. The problem was that I loved seeing all the gorgeous little outfits hanging in there even if they were from a size 00! I ended up with ANOTHER large space bag of clothes bringing the grand total to 3 already! I found gifts I was yet to unpack, and clothes I had forgotten I bought for her. 4 hours later Soph’s wardrobe was spick and span.

Then it was my wardrobes turn. I gave myself a couple of days break and on New Years Eve morning with Sophie asleep and hubby out and about, I began. I started with shelves of stuff I hadn’t even looked at let alone used in the past probably 3 years. I got ruthless and just started throwing stuff out. Belts that were no good, pyjamas that were far too small and swimmers that I can’t believe I ever fitted into. Then I started on my shoe shelf. As I dusted off the boxes of all my lovely high heels I reminisced about the old days. The old days when every work outfit was carefully chosen with shoes to match. Sky high heels that at the time seemed easy to wear. These days… Well mummy mode has well and truly kicked in! I’ve got one pair of comfortable black heels I wear to hubby’s awards nights and the rest are trusty old flats. Unfortunately the word ruthless didn’t enter into the shoe clean out. After dusting off the boxes and the shelf they all got neatly stacked back. Throwing them away seemed too much to bare!

This unfortunately continued in the clothing department too. I’d had a massive throw out a few months ago and gave my brothers girlfriend all my lovely work clothes that even if I were to go back to work would require me to lose at least 15 kilos for me to fit back into. But my lovely casual and some dressy pre-Sophie clothes I couldn’t part with. You never know, I told myself, maybe one day after we’re finished having kids I’ll fit back into them. One day. So they all got packed into plastic tubs for safe keeping. You know, just in case. Finally I rearranged the clothes that do fit me and hung up the things I wear everyday so I can actually SEE what I have. I even found clothes I had forgotten I’d bought. It was like shopping without the having to spend money bit! So after about 8 hours spread over 2 days my wardrobe was complete. And it feels so good knowing that behind all the cupboard doors everything is neat and ORGANISED!

I never make new years resolutions because I know I’ll never keep them. But I have promised myself that when 2013 rolls around our wardrobes will be as tidy as they are today.

Now to get hubby to do his wardrobe… I have a feeling that will be MY next clean out!

Oh, and Happy New Year!

So I just wanted to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas and a safe and Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas!

See you next year!

I’ll be in contact soon via email.

Thanks so much to everyone who entered.

As Louise puts it:

My plans were:

0600 depart Newcastle

0730 arrive melb

1330 (1.30pm) hair in portsea

1630 (4.30pm) wedding.

Actual

Fly in and land as per plan. Other half advises that he didn’t bring pants (WHAT THE??) and that he would like to go shopping. Deep breath out… OK lets do breakfast then go to Chadstone (I’m sure the worlds BIGGEST shopping centre and even has its own Tiffanys and Co) Arrive Chadstone 1000, deal is Boy shop for pants then phone me when ready. Game over no later than 1200 to drive to hair appointment. I intended to go get mani and pedi to not spend too much money… oh yeah I LURVE CHADSTONE.

Well – long story short – I wandered round Chaddy, found a dress I have been searching for (involved asking a stranger where she got her RED dress from) had to buy new matching shoes, got my nails done and then…

Bride rang and said ‘can you talk to dad, he sounded distracted when she phoned him earlier.’ So rang dad. Dad was his usual organised self, not, and was charged with picking up the wedding cake. WELL. At 11.20 he had not LEFT HOME YET and the cake was at Chaddy, which was like Charlestown on a Sat morning. DEFINITELY NOT EMPTY and in no shape to simply breeze in and collect a wedding cake! So I said to dad that we were in Chadstone, and we would do the cake (I had visions of no wedding cake at reception…) So we hare around Chaddy to find a trolley then fang to the cake shop, get cake and hurtle into car. We zoom down to the reception (golf course), drop cake off, and I hurl Mike* off at the Country Club (next door thank Tgoodness) and race to get my hair done.

Meanwhile I forgot to metion why I am racing around… WELL

Jen* (Bride) had phoned and was telling me the updated location for …. PHOTOS. Um what photos I am thinking… the photos BEFORE THE CEREMONY at 2pm. Krikey! Hair appointment 1.30, cake dropped off at 1.20, and um PHOTOS AT 2? And amongst all this, Jen had booked my hair appointment time! SO arrive at hair 10 mins late (land speed records on back roads of Portsea) no chit chat, just wash blow dry hair pinned, off to the parents of the grooms small seaside waterfront mansion. Launch into a bathroom, did the superman change from jeans to dress, race out in time for one snap photo then off to the on-location photo shoot at the beach – it’s a clifftop ceremony. LOL the only makeup I have on is a swipe of mascara and some lip gloss! Note: father of the bride is at the parents of the grooms mansion.

Arrive at photo location with sister, bride and father of the bride. Take photos. Jane* (other sister) and I travel to next clifftop for ceremony.

All guests arrive, we all cram into a clifftop walkway and ceremony begins. I am facing bride (downwards) and Jane is on opposite side of crowd facing upwards. Both of us commence scanning crowd for father of bride. Nowhere to be seen… mind you there is 80 people squashed in. maybe he is just ‘amongst it all’. I am standing next to parents of groom. Mother of groom (Marilyn) and father of groom (Rob) whisper. Marilyn turns around and says ‘wheres Glen?’ (Father of the bride) I have to say ‘don’t know!’ mmmmm. Ceremony starts. Ceremony finishes. Celebrant calls for Marilyn and Glen to come forward to witness the signing. Marilyn – tick. Glen – absent. ABSENT!!! The father of the bride MISSED THE WHOLE WEDDING and was nowhere to be seen. I race through carpark to phone and ring him. He answers and I screech WHERE ARE YOU (I was hoping for no answer so maybe he had had a heart attack and a VALID reason for a – answering phone and b – not being on site) Im LOST he says. I have to resist the urge to tell him to keep driving – home – and make sure he gets here. I go back to the ceremony and Jane has signed the docs in dads absence.

THEN…

Father of the groom delivers a lovely speech. Then father of the bride is asked to step to the mic. Father of the bride spends the first 2 mins telling everyone how he was instructed to speak for 3-4 mins only and that the father of the groom spoke for too long, but, dear listener, he wont. Then he rambles and stammers in a speech so shocking that was focussed on why his wife didn’t come (including telling everyone how Grace (his step-daughter) was ‘last chance at australian girls choir’ ) two tearful, over the top references to our mother, then a long winded ramble about Jen (Bride) better fitting to a povo 21st than a 33yr olds wedding. The speech was so bad that people were talking about it AFTERWARDS.

Other than that, the bride looked stunning in a strapless vera wang. Weather was to die for.

Phew. I have vented.

Ever had a day like Louise’s?!

*Names have been changed.

So when I finally got through all the sorting and filing this morning, I sat down to pay the latest round of bills. I had noticed something strange between our 2 water bills  (we own 2 properties in the same suburb) and had mentioned it to hubby and he asked me to call and suss it out. So that I just did.

The lady couldn’t give me any information because I wasn’t an authorised person on the account. You see all our bills are in hubby’s name. I moved in with him and of course everything was already set up, I never thought to have myself added to any of the accounts. Until today.

It got me thinking… What if something happened to hubby, God forbid, touch wood, and all that jazz, I NEVER want to be in that situation. But what if something did and suddenly I technically didn’t have access to any of this information. (Even though I’m the one who pays the bills!) I’m sure there are ways to handle situations like that, but knowing the shite we have been through with companies just for the simpliest things, like a new gas connection, (yes AGL I’m talking to you), I can only imagine what a shit fight it would be should something happen to hubby.

It is my job as Home Manager, Mum Extraordinaire, Domestic Goddess, whatever you’d like to call us super hero mum’s, to keep bills, household stuff in check. But to the outside world I have no technical right to any of these accounts or their information. And quite frankly for a few seconds it scared the beejesus outta me.

Of course this is all very easily fixed and hubby just has to call and have me added on as an authorised person. And this is exactly what we are going to do. Poor hubby doesn’t even know what nagging is about to hit him.

It made me realise that we need to get our butts into gear. It’s not just hubby and I anymore, it’s Sophie as well. After Sophie was born we finally got our life insurance sorted. After Sophie was born, hubby started wearing a life jacket when paddling out on the harbour. After Sophie was born we started writing our Wills. Unfortunately though they still aren’t finished.

It’s amazing what having a child can make you do in terms of organising your life and preparing for the future, and unfortunately preparing for the worst, even though it may and probably, hopefully will never happen.

Have you ever had an oh shit gotta get that sorted life moment?

You may have noticed that over the last year or so posts have become few and far between. Time is a factor, as any new mum will say, sleep, eating and a shower comes before blogging in your ‘spare time’. But then there’s also the issue of topics. When I write I’m always cautious not to offend anyone. A differing of opinion is fine, but I would never want to intentionally offend someone. Especially someone that I knew.

And there lies my problemo. Off the top of my head I could think of maybe 10 topics that would make great posts. So why don’t I write about them? Because I feel that I can’t, and probably shouldn’t. Well not on such an open blog anyway. One where people know who I am. One that family and friends read, who could think, hmmm is she talking about me?

I’d love to blog about friendships. The good and the bad. Relationships, the good, the bad, and the ugly. And so much more. But they’re not all my stories to tell. Well not so publicly anyway. I’d love to tell you what a bunch of morons a certain organisation are. I’d love to be able to write about a heartbreaking illness. One that far too many people can relate to. But it wouldn’t be right.

Blogging/writing has always been my therapy. It makes me feel better to bash on the keyword and write things down. So for many of these topics and posts, they will remain drafts. Drafts in the safety of the flipside of my website and some drafts in the safety of my head, as I daren’t write them down.

Are you a blogger who feels the same? Do you have an anonymous blog or do you freely tell all your stories?

In the beginning, this blog was for me. A place to vent, whinge and just crap on with whatever I liked. As more people started to read it, I also thought about the readers when blogging and tried to write about topics that pepole could relate to.

I’m guilty of being sarcastic, and having a sense of humour, which led to my Supermodel post. There are many many comments that I have never published on that post, because they are rude and offensive. How dare someone think they can visit my blog, MY BLOG and call me names and carry on. I’m terribly sorry but it is not my problem that you don’t have a sense of humour. I even thought about turning Puff Pieces off and crawling under a rock where there was no Internet connection.

Then I recently received a comment on a random post from a man who didn’t appreciate some spelling mistakes I had made. I’m terribly sorry but I didn’t realise this was the online Macquarie Dictionary. It’s a blog, a very informal casual blog that unfortunately doesn’t have the time to be proof read 1000 times before being published.

And then there’s product reviews. I’ve been fortunate enough to receive 2 products to review. First were the label stickers and then the Softie’s Baby Shoes. And most recently a marketing company invited me to help with the Disney Live! show promotion for the Newcastle shows. Why would I say no to that? It’s a great opportunity for myself and my daughter to experience a live kids stage show and for some Puff Pieces readers to win tickets of their own.

I have never received any financial payment for my writing, so why not enjoy a few perks along the way. I have been approached by companies to publish stories they have written full of links to their clients but I have always refused, and will only write about products I have myself tried and tested.

The fact that 2 out of the current 3 posts on the website are about products/shows is a coincidence. Once again it all comes back to that time factor. And when you’ve just had 6 weeks with limited Internet access because we were renovating, my priorities were elsewhere rather than making sure the current posts on the blog were of an adequate variety. Throw in a one year old who has decided that one day sleep is now enough, and there goes another day, week, month flying by.

Sometimes I think I’m too sensitive to have a blog. I’m too quick to react. But then other times I think why should I bother getting upset. If you have decided to no longer read Puff Pieces, then you probably won’t be reading this. But in case you are, thanks for reading thus far. And be sure not to check in next week when I’ll have another great product review.

Right, so now that I’ve used the washing up time to write this I better go and at least have a shower.

Last Tuesday, Bob, took his own life. He left behind his heartbroken wife, and devastated 2 children, his daughter aged 17 and son just 15.

All completely shocked that this sport loving, do anything for you, family man was battling depression demons so bad he saw no other way out but to end it all.

I cannot begin to imagine what his family are going through trying to work out why. Why didn’t he just tell someone. Ask for help. Work through it and still be here on this earth for his family.

Male stubbornness has a lot to answer for. Just because you’re a man, you don’t have to always be big and strong. It’s ok to shed a tear or ball your eyes out if you want to. And most importantly it’s ok to ask for help.

www.beyondblue.org.au

I think it’s just human nature for us to ask questions and naturally people are curious. But sometimes I’m a little taken a back at all the questions.

I think Sophie was about 3 months old when I was first asked when we were thinking about adding another member to the family. I couldn’t see past managing to get a shower in before 4pm let alone have another baby!

I’m a chatty kind of person and don’t usually have a problem answering random questions, especially of course if they’re coming from a friend, but I find myself being very careful when it comes to asking other people questions. What if someone can’t have children or doesn’t want to get married. It could make for a very awkward situation!

Are you a ‘those questions’ asker? Or how do you handle ‘those questions’?