You know what really grinds my gears?


I was torn between keeping this blog a completely anonymous affair – cue brutal and ofttimes scathing honesty – and letting all the peeps in on the gag and toning it down.

As things stand, in classic Bambi form, I’ve gone right down the middle and saved myself from a truly perplexing conundrum.

I don’t want to be so indecisive.
It’s killing me.



You know what really grinds my gears?

Not knowing what the damned future holds.

FOMO (fear of missing out – I have to brag about my semester of psychology someplace, dudes) is a very real phenomenon and it kills me. In a figurative sense.
I cannot ever make a decision, and then when I do 98% of the time I’ll change my mind before I actually go through with whatever it is; from buying those shorts or enrolling in an interstate university. Otherwise I’ll have serious remorse and wish I’d just stayed on my comfy fence and never dabbled with the dangerous mistress that is being decisive.

As it turns out, the shorts never came but I have to return the jeans and top that were to come with them because they’re just not quite right. Which is kind of the story of my life.

The interstate university is yet to be determined but I have been offered a place in a distance nursing bachelors degree which means travelling 8 hours by car two-three days a semester.

I’ve booked a flight home for leaf and I but I do wish home was Melbournes inner suburbs and uni was the double degree I dream of.


Till then, my gears continue to be ground by things not going my way. If the universe could figure that out and get back to me with a solution, that’d be peachy.



It is what it is.

I never never ever thought I’d last this long; it was definitely one of the toughest things I have ever pushed through and it paid off in dividends.

This last week leaf hasn’t had one single feed. She didn’t ask, I didn’t offer, and when I realised it broke my heart that I didn’t appreciate the very last time.

Then she had a quick snackeral while we were in the shower to cure the bump on the head blues and I got the chance to make peace with that incredible/painful chapter coming to an end.

Now I just feel sad and nostalgic and blue with love and the very real understanding that my bebe will certainly not be my bebe forever.

The walking and talking should probably have been earlier indicators of that..



I’m not entirely sure how to process the first part of 2015 for us.

Leafy and I will travel 3000+km to stay with my family for the Christmas/New Years/Australia day period and leafs papa will stay here.
I know she’s going to love it and I’m that excited for her to be able to engage with her uncles and cousins and really enjoy what (I think) the summer holidays should be about: family, fun and free time.

But I feel the mama guilt, taking my bebe away from her papa, flipping her from the only home she’s known to my parents to an interstate move for a couple months then back to my parents then back to her tropical home to then move again just weeks later and have a very vague ’till the end of the year’ limit on that.. It hurts my heart to think she won’t be settled, or have a home full of vague memories of toddlerhood, that she hasn’t been anywhere long enough for me to make friends with people who have children her age, that she’s stuck with such a gypsy of a mama, that her family lives so far away, that I might not be able to give her siblings etc etc.
What is initially a very simple gee willickers I’m not looking forward to this flight very swiftly develops into the downward spiral of anxiety that looms ever watchful just beyond the reaches of conscious control, waiting for a moment of doubt to ruthlessly seize upon any infinitesimal opportunity to devour a lacklustre mamas wavering confidence.

Moral of the story; I get motion sick.

Welcome to my mind.


Gear grinding

>I want to cancel my credit card
>spend twenty minutes on hold for the privilege
>redirected to appropriate department because CONSPIRACY there is no menu option to cancel
>finally prove my identity
>computer “calculates” payout fee THERE IS NONE I PAID IT OFF WEEKS AGO
>fill the time with “satisfaction” questionnaire aka “where else you gon’ get you money bitch” interrogation
>computer coincidentally concludes its strenuous calculations at exact same moment as interrogation questionnaire ends
>teeth clench, patience ends, polite bambi shrouded by sleep deprived bitchface
>still listen anyway because not exactly sure how to disregard strangers feelings and know that she’s just doing her job and this very occurrence had been anticipated anyway
>try to interrupt once when girl takes a breath
>last vestiges of polite bambi force termination of call lest the big banks conspire further to steal all the money’s as a radical response to lone rude phone conversation and full credit card

>>try not to go online shopping



It’s Tuesday.. But the days blur.
This Friday November 21st is Did I Get Into University (Again) day.
I don’t have very high hopes because I kind of applied for an honours program that doesn’t technically have a distance component, but I know the first three years are all classes that DO.
So I’m fairly consumed with thinking about that.
And how I should probably be working cause uni is going to be hard considering how rarely leafs papa is home and it’s a long term thing and I should really be long term-ing the dollar dollar bills y’all.
Even though I need something stimulating, but it won’t start till march so there’s still time but even so I don’t want to leave leaf in day care so with a friend is best but it’s not fair to restrict her with me taking just a night time job… You recognise the crazy.

Meanwhile leaf is particularly fond of pooping her pants, loosening her nappy just enough that her tin chubby fingers fit inside it to reach aforementioned poo and just kinda flick it around. Maybe rub it in her hair, the tile grout, maybe the couch. Essentially just going with the feels.



If I’ve said it before I’ve said it a thousand times; I am under no illusions about my shortcomings as a human being.
But it’s always easier to make observations about someone else than get introspective, and I’ve met my fair share of observable dickheads.

It would seem entirely spiteful were I to say something like this now, so I recommended a good friend pass the message on to a previously mutual friend.
To be honest, I genuinely don’t mean it out of spite. I no longer harbour ill will, but I’m quick to anger at the mistreatment of people I care about (can I getta amen), and I have much more difficulty shedding those grudges.

Here is a list of aspects of your character that I believe have room for improvement. It is not intended to be hurtful, rather to help you on the road to self improvement. 
-when someone is speaking to you, give them your full attention, particularly when they’ve just done it for you.
-plans are not set in stone, some obligations are more important than coffee, and jobs actually are a valid excuse.
-that being said, have the common courtesy to make things as convenient for the other person as possible. Particularly when they’re your mode of transportation.
-when you give your word, keep it. Trust is difficult to reestablish, and unfortunately, you actually can’t force it.
-getting emotional when something is difficult is not the answer. People may help when you’re upset a couple of times, but when it’s repeated, long term and the subject matter is trivial and easily resolved, you seem immature and unstable.
-giving unsolicited advice is rude and so condescending. Especially when you haven’t actually been listening and have zero authority on the subject.
-it doesn’t have to be on social media to be valid, love is best shared privately and a couple of well timed selfies does not a photographer make.
-practicing what you preach is only ever a good thing. If you’re prone to the desire for retribution, don’t espouse a life of zen and ever loving good naturedness.
-be good to the people who do you favours, because they have memories. And keep score. I promise.
-one good deed does not undo the bad ones; you can’t expect a clean slate without acknowledging when good girls go bad. Which leads me to,
-admit when you’ve made a mistake and apologise. IT MAKES THE WORLD OF DIFFERENCE. Otherwise, you’re essentially trivializing someone else’s pain.
-you are not the centre of ANYONES universe. Until you have children. Okay maybe there’s one more,
-don’t have children. You won’t be able to hack it (unless you take on my wickedly accurate and entirely unpompous tips for life).

Good luck.


Posted from WordPress for Android

endometriosis, the mirena, and the pollen wars

Indulge me, if you will, in a slight deviation from the norm of shower poop and teething wars.

I’ve had gynaecological issues for years, since it was reasonable to do so, and though this by no means makes me special (plenty of falling-over stories  that do that all on their own), it’s consistent, persistent, painful, difficult, disruptive, and an all round pain in the ass.

A little background – sans gore – to bring you up to speed.
Years of trouble,
2009 laparoscopic surgery for endometrial removal and Mirena IUD insertion.
2012 Mirena removal due to recurrent symptoms
2013 baby leafys triumphant arrival

This year just short of leafs first birthday I finally got in to see a gynaecologist and despite my desire to further investigate the possibility of more endometriosis, she insisted that the Mirena was good. We’d do that.
Three months after we were to make sure it was in situ and if I was still symptomatic after that, we’d revisit the surgical route.

Today after much humming and hawing from an awkward young male sonographer, we can once again surmise that there is some posterial endometriosis, if the Mirena is still intact it’s not visible, and I’m unlikely to get an appointment with a gynaecologist way up here – the far end of the country where brains are impaired by the sun and working days must be accordingly adjusted – for several weeks. 

AND! worse than all that, the pollen dropped off the trees today. So. You know. Gimme all the sniffles. Props for self pity.


Posted from WordPress for Android