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.


Peter Griffin knows what’s up.

Upon reflection, I’ve realised I have a slight penchant for aggression. Primarily passive aggression because who wants to get confrontational?! But it’s definitely not a trait I had in my arsenal when I was younger and I take some (perhaps unfounded) solace in the possibility that this aggression comes from a source of self confidence I previously never knew existed.

As such, I believe it would be prudent to take on a bit of my old bird word loving pal Peter, and incorporate some gear grinding into this here blog.

Maybe it’ll save you in the future. Maybe it’ll make you question the past.
Maybe (read – more likely) you won’t give a Giggle and Hoot and will have a comfortable chuckle to yourself over some shared grievance and be on your merry scrolling way.

In any case…



By the book or by the feels?

I guess first time mothers are all going to be the same whether they’re pregnant by plan and execution or just as surprised as I was: scared witless and devouring any information they can get their hands on.

The problem posed here, however, is that it is literally impossible to a) absorb all the tripe that’s produced as reliable literature, b) separate the quality tips from from unrealistic propaganda and c) function at all with a newborn (you just wing that shit and if you’re both still alive at the end of the day that’s cause for celebration yo!).

Initially as is my nature I read the crap out of books, articles, scientific journals and online forums to be certain I was doing the exact right combination of Things To Grow A Human. After a few weeks (as is also my nature, hello third attempt at university 2015) I threw in the towel and decided I’d play it by ear because what right for one person is abhorrent to another – case in point: cry-it-out (that’s CIO on the forums, savvy?).

ALL I want is for Leaf to reach old age happy and healthy.
But also kind, conscientious, smart, independent, self aware, confident, polite, determined, and brave.

So I let her run around naked. She’s dirty more often than not. She knows what dirt and sand taste like. She swims around in the pool with floaty rings on her arms unassisted (but supervised. Der). She rolls around on the floor with the dog and fights over a chew toy. Sometimes she has a bit of froth from my latte. She says hello and goodbye and blows kisses to whoever she pleases. She has bruises and scratches of unknown origin. Jams her fingers in doors and cupboards. She eats chocolate, fruit fruit fruit, barely any meat, wipes her own mouth and nose, eats on a rug on the floor, watches tv.

I’d rather worry about the happy and healthy things than 4.6 minutes of screen time and sustainable organic wooden age appropriate toys and a perfectly balanced diet.

Hope that’s cool with you, Leaf. Quick, Bing Bunny is on.



I haaaaate when people are condescending, or patronising. Or tossers.

Early 20’s retail girl: I’m not your babe, love, darl, sweetie, gorge or hun. IM NOBODYS THOSE THINGS but I’m especially not yours.

Aspiring bloggers: framing every piece like you’re Carrie and New York is holding its collective breath is such a snore I could just die. “I’m here to tell you,” that your prose lacks depth and originality.

Parents of children older than leaf: I get it. You are winning the eternal race of time and therefore your experience is far more valid and well informed. Rub my face in it yo, lets solidify my derision.

Real estate agent: I am aware that the owner of the house we rent will be unwilling to pay for our broadband. I am aware you take great, lengthy, and superior pleasure in informing me. I am also aware that the words that came out of my mouth were not “when will they start paying my bills?” But rather, “are you able to find out when the telephone outlet was last active.”

Bambi: you’re far too conceited for your own good, and your previously harmless self destructive behaviour that is a product of a lack of mental stimulation is turning outward in an unnecessarily aggressive fashion. Get over yourself.



This restricted internet caper is pure rubbish.

My phone is dead.

Cant get landline broadband here.

Prepaid broadband is RIDICULOUSLY expensive for so little data.

Real estate agent is so slack I can’t even find the correct expletives to use.

The hospitality industry is a cruel mistress to be tied to.

No community run playgroup and I know a grand total of zero young hot thangs with children of their own that we can meet up with at the beach whilst I sit in the shade in my oversized tee so I don’t burn my sallow skin or reveal the jelly belly I’m sporting.

Incidentally, am I the only person who finds it perversely false to declare anyone wearing clothes of any nature are “rocking” whichever rag they’re in? I digress.

No playgroup = no playmates for leaf. I dont want to leave her with strangers at daycare, but mayhaps it would be beneficial?




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.


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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.


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I surpassed my internet quota for the month in two weeks… So this week’s post is late – but no less poignant.

Does it speak of a persons love for another when they’re willing to accept their loves 400% increase in shower poop propensity?
Or is it merely a reflection of one’s lack of regard for the privacy and inadvertent distasteful nature of bodily functions?

My life in a partially digested mandarin and rehydrated sultana nutshell.


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All our stuff came today.
Couch, cot, fridge, bed, desk, files, kitchenware, bike and washing machine (YAY).

I’d sort of resigned myself to the fact that we might not ever see that stuff again, apart from the washing machine which I genuinely love, and it wasn’t a big deal. Apart from the couch and air mattress, though we bought a new bed and old couch to tide us over.

So now that it’s here I’ve just left it all in a pile in the entry way, and I dont really want to do anything with it.
Not having so much stuff has been totally liberating and I’m loathe to give up on the breathing space.

Creature comforts? Or excessive materialism?
Undecided, but it’s introspective food for thought.


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