.... back in Hobart my brothers are inventing new dance techniques. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you "Rancing".
Friday, 22 April 2011
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Cranky
My friend wrote to me after reading my last post. She only reads my blog when she gets bored at work, so I know she truly does love me.
"I can see the crazy factor rising a little Helgs!" End quote. Yep... she calls me Helgs (a friend from almost ten years ago now) and yep, what she said kind of describes my life perfectly. Dal will attest to that. I am certain if he wasn't so nice he'd have disappeared some months ago now.
I am all sorts of crazy, but mostly I feel just cranky. And so when I think that it is time I really should update my blog, all I can think of is cranky things to talk about. For example I would really like to complain about birthdays or tell you of my eternal hatred for my hairdresser or vent about the seemingly lack of discipline that occurs in Primary every week (let me clarify - the Presidency is wonderful... it's the teachers that seem to be scared to tell their class to "shoosh!"). I really don't want to write all that stuff down because I don't want to seem stuck in the mire, although I am. And I don't want to seem petty, although I am. And worst of all, I don't want someone to be offended by my crankiness, although I'm sure my hormones have already offended more people in my life than I care to think about.
I skyped with my mum for over an hour yesterday... mostly complaining. Then I made her cry. I guess I just had too many stupid/petty problems for one person to handle. Actually... she cried because she's got a husband who is just as much a nut job as me. Thankfully he can't get pregnant... so we are all safe from that beast (hi Dad!).
I think, though, that if I did start writing all my thoughts, all that would end up happening is a full public meltdown a la Charlie Sheen style (maybe not so drastic, but it wouldn't be pretty).
So instead of documenting my mental decline, I thought I'd finally share with you the story of how Dal and I met. I think I've given you bits and pieces here and there, but never the full story. I think this is a good idea because so many of the famous bloggers have already done it and I am all about riding a fad until it's been flogged to death. Also, my newest follower suggested something similar while commenting on one of my old posts.
I'm just hoping that it doesn't end up being the crankiest love story ever told.
"I can see the crazy factor rising a little Helgs!" End quote. Yep... she calls me Helgs (a friend from almost ten years ago now) and yep, what she said kind of describes my life perfectly. Dal will attest to that. I am certain if he wasn't so nice he'd have disappeared some months ago now.
I am all sorts of crazy, but mostly I feel just cranky. And so when I think that it is time I really should update my blog, all I can think of is cranky things to talk about. For example I would really like to complain about birthdays or tell you of my eternal hatred for my hairdresser or vent about the seemingly lack of discipline that occurs in Primary every week (let me clarify - the Presidency is wonderful... it's the teachers that seem to be scared to tell their class to "shoosh!"). I really don't want to write all that stuff down because I don't want to seem stuck in the mire, although I am. And I don't want to seem petty, although I am. And worst of all, I don't want someone to be offended by my crankiness, although I'm sure my hormones have already offended more people in my life than I care to think about.
I skyped with my mum for over an hour yesterday... mostly complaining. Then I made her cry. I guess I just had too many stupid/petty problems for one person to handle. Actually... she cried because she's got a husband who is just as much a nut job as me. Thankfully he can't get pregnant... so we are all safe from that beast (hi Dad!).
I think, though, that if I did start writing all my thoughts, all that would end up happening is a full public meltdown a la Charlie Sheen style (maybe not so drastic, but it wouldn't be pretty).
So instead of documenting my mental decline, I thought I'd finally share with you the story of how Dal and I met. I think I've given you bits and pieces here and there, but never the full story. I think this is a good idea because so many of the famous bloggers have already done it and I am all about riding a fad until it's been flogged to death. Also, my newest follower suggested something similar while commenting on one of my old posts.
I'm just hoping that it doesn't end up being the crankiest love story ever told.
Monday, 18 April 2011
Mottled Monday
Just a few bits and pieces.
For three days straight now, I have asked LQ what she wants for lunch. For three straight days she has had a clear idea of what she wants. For three straight days I have given her EXACTLY what she has requested. For three straight days she has seen what I had for lunch and proceeded to whine that THAT is what she really wanted. It's enough to drive me INSANE!
Friday was a rough day. It was the end of a long week of LQ being sick and the truck not starting - in other words I was stuck at home ALL week aside from the time I tried to walk in 90 degree temperatures to my mother-in-law's home (that's another story). I was desperate. Back to Friday. I'm not above saying I had a meltdown. The truck actually started, got me all excited and then quit working. I felt my chest constricting, I couldn't breathe properly, my mind got muddled and I started pacing the kitchen. I sent a message to Dal about feeling trapped. He called me up and I immediately collapsed into a sobbing mess. LQ thought I was sad because she had eaten frosting with two spoons without my knowledge that morning. Poor kid. A nap was in order. It wasn't until MUCH later in the day I ventured outside again. There on my doorstep, poorly hidden under the doormat, was a package. For me. From a friend who knows.
Opening any package is fun for me. It breaks up the day. But this package was filled with amazing goodness and a whole heap of love. I took this picture after I had already eaten half the block of chocolate and LQ had taken a packet of double coated Tim Tams into her room.
A thank you just doesn't seem enough for the lifesaving properties that this package had. I actually cried when I pulled the drinks out of the box.
I have been gorging on chocolate the entire weekend. SO much better than drugs!
Dal and I have been spending our weekends looking at real estate recently and we've just put offers on a few homes. One lender owned and the other a short sale, so don't expect anymore information for quite some time, but that's some exciting news from our grownup lives. On a related note: Can I just tell you how cranky it makes me feel when I walk into a home someone has said that is recently renovated and it is glaringly obvious that they've done everything cheaply and poorly. Why bother doing it at all? Poorly renovated homes just means more work for the next sap who wants to renovate. Can you tell I've been scarred by my recent renovation project?
For three days straight now, I have asked LQ what she wants for lunch. For three straight days she has had a clear idea of what she wants. For three straight days I have given her EXACTLY what she has requested. For three straight days she has seen what I had for lunch and proceeded to whine that THAT is what she really wanted. It's enough to drive me INSANE!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday was a rough day. It was the end of a long week of LQ being sick and the truck not starting - in other words I was stuck at home ALL week aside from the time I tried to walk in 90 degree temperatures to my mother-in-law's home (that's another story). I was desperate. Back to Friday. I'm not above saying I had a meltdown. The truck actually started, got me all excited and then quit working. I felt my chest constricting, I couldn't breathe properly, my mind got muddled and I started pacing the kitchen. I sent a message to Dal about feeling trapped. He called me up and I immediately collapsed into a sobbing mess. LQ thought I was sad because she had eaten frosting with two spoons without my knowledge that morning. Poor kid. A nap was in order. It wasn't until MUCH later in the day I ventured outside again. There on my doorstep, poorly hidden under the doormat, was a package. For me. From a friend who knows.
Opening any package is fun for me. It breaks up the day. But this package was filled with amazing goodness and a whole heap of love. I took this picture after I had already eaten half the block of chocolate and LQ had taken a packet of double coated Tim Tams into her room.
A thank you just doesn't seem enough for the lifesaving properties that this package had. I actually cried when I pulled the drinks out of the box.
I have been gorging on chocolate the entire weekend. SO much better than drugs!
----------------------------------------------------------
Dal and I have been spending our weekends looking at real estate recently and we've just put offers on a few homes. One lender owned and the other a short sale, so don't expect anymore information for quite some time, but that's some exciting news from our grownup lives. On a related note: Can I just tell you how cranky it makes me feel when I walk into a home someone has said that is recently renovated and it is glaringly obvious that they've done everything cheaply and poorly. Why bother doing it at all? Poorly renovated homes just means more work for the next sap who wants to renovate. Can you tell I've been scarred by my recent renovation project?
Sunday, 10 April 2011
Entitled: An Obsession
Hello my friends. First I want to thank you for the love you gave me on my "Mostly" post. Since getting it out on my blog and talking to my Obstetrician, I have been feeling a lot better. But that's a different post.
This one is about my dearest LQ.
I'm not sure I could love this girl any more than I do. I am certain she has reached her cuteness peak. Everything she does has me giggling to myself or laughing out loud. She shakes her little booty at me, she shimmies across the floor. She sings constantly to me, Dal or herself. She says things like "Daddy, you sick! Take a nap!" and "mmmm b'donalds (McDonalds), deyishous!". She is good a fake laughing when we are laughing at something she does and most importantly of all when I'm cranky or just generally not in a good mood she will say "Happy face Mummy! Show me your happy face". Let me tell you about that happy face. Not once have I ever said that to her.... that's all LQ.
There's one thing that hasn't changed as LQ has grown into the beautiful little girl that she is. Her love for puzzles. It started well before she turned two and her love has not waned. To show you how much she loves puzzles, I took a picture of all the puzzles that she owns and as a comparison you can see in one of the pictures her small drawer filled with her dress up costumes. There's no contest... that girl could do puzzles all day if I'd sit with her.
This one is about my dearest LQ.
I'm not sure I could love this girl any more than I do. I am certain she has reached her cuteness peak. Everything she does has me giggling to myself or laughing out loud. She shakes her little booty at me, she shimmies across the floor. She sings constantly to me, Dal or herself. She says things like "Daddy, you sick! Take a nap!" and "mmmm b'donalds (McDonalds), deyishous!". She is good a fake laughing when we are laughing at something she does and most importantly of all when I'm cranky or just generally not in a good mood she will say "Happy face Mummy! Show me your happy face". Let me tell you about that happy face. Not once have I ever said that to her.... that's all LQ.
There's one thing that hasn't changed as LQ has grown into the beautiful little girl that she is. Her love for puzzles. It started well before she turned two and her love has not waned. To show you how much she loves puzzles, I took a picture of all the puzzles that she owns and as a comparison you can see in one of the pictures her small drawer filled with her dress up costumes. There's no contest... that girl could do puzzles all day if I'd sit with her.
Monday, 4 April 2011
Entitled: A Love Letter
The 30 minutes before you arrive home is always the longest part of the day.
I hear your noisy truck (we need to get that fixed) come around the corner and pull in to the driveway.
I stand up a little straighter.
In the few minutes that it takes for you to get to the door (the bin needs to be taken out) I am frozen. I am unsure as to what to do with myself while I wait.
The sucking and whooshing sound that the opening of the door makes will forever make my heart beat a little faster, help my body relax and inject just that bit more energy that I've been craving all day.
That door opening is a sign for LQ, too. Her little body leaps from whatever position she is in. She flies to the door. "DADDY"!
Her excitement is just a snippet of how I feel about your homecoming, but I play it cool.
LQ gets cuddles and I get the same sort of kiss I got from you when we were dating.
I know you love me.
I hope that you know how much I love you. I hope that the waiting dinner shows that I love you. I hope that the made bed shows that I love you. I hope that my face shows how much I love you.
I hope my entire life shows that I love you beyond any words on a silly blog post could ever convey and how much I love having you all to myself each evening (usually).
I hear your noisy truck (we need to get that fixed) come around the corner and pull in to the driveway.
I stand up a little straighter.
In the few minutes that it takes for you to get to the door (the bin needs to be taken out) I am frozen. I am unsure as to what to do with myself while I wait.
The sucking and whooshing sound that the opening of the door makes will forever make my heart beat a little faster, help my body relax and inject just that bit more energy that I've been craving all day.
That door opening is a sign for LQ, too. Her little body leaps from whatever position she is in. She flies to the door. "DADDY"!
Her excitement is just a snippet of how I feel about your homecoming, but I play it cool.
LQ gets cuddles and I get the same sort of kiss I got from you when we were dating.
I know you love me.
I hope that you know how much I love you. I hope that the waiting dinner shows that I love you. I hope that the made bed shows that I love you. I hope that my face shows how much I love you.
I hope my entire life shows that I love you beyond any words on a silly blog post could ever convey and how much I love having you all to myself each evening (usually).
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