Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas. I hope you have a wonderful time with your families and friends, and some time to relax over the break. Try not to eat or drink too much... oh, who am I kidding? Have as much as you want!

I am going away just after Christmas, until the New Year, so I look forward to blogging more in 2010.

Megan
xo

From Baby To Toddler

2009 was the first full year that my little girl has been in this world. Whereas last year was the pregnancy and the birth of Abbey, this year has been all about our little baby growing into a toddler. It has been such a big change for her and for us, and has brought with it lots of challenges but also HEAPS of fun and laughter.

Abbey started off 2009 as a 4 month-old bub who could roll, giggle and drink milk. She had no teeth and had never tasted solid food. This was her in January:

And this is her now - a fully-fledged toddler who, seeing in the New Year at 16 months, has 12 teeth, is running around everywhere, climbing, eating anything put in front of her, playing games and talking:

I will always remember 2009 as the year that Abbey went from rolling, to crawling, to standing, to taking small steps, to walking long distances, to running, to climbing. The year she progressed from making little gurgly sounds to saying real words and understanding what we say (even if she sometimes chooses not to listen...). The year she grew teeth and kept us awake more than she did as a newborn.

Most importantly, 2009 has been amazing in seeing her personality develop: we watch her determination and independence, along with her sense of humour, outgoing nature and quirky character become apparent and we have a glimpse of the fun that will be 2010.

Point And Shoot: My Saturday

Chantelle, of the beautiful blog Fat Mum Slim, set a Point & Shoot challenge for Saturday and I thought it could be fun to take part in it. The idea is to take a photo of one aspect of your day.

Saturday was a cool, cloudy, drizzly day in Melbourne. I had thought we would be rushing around finishing off our Christmas shopping, but we were able to finish it all during the week. So on Saturday, we relaxed and spent the day doing nothing, just the three of us. It was lovely.

I then cooked up a Paella for dinner. It was my first attempt at making this, so I wasn't sure how it would turn out, but it was a beautiful meal. Especially when served with a glass of NZ Sauv. Blanc...

Oh, and some scrumptious Haigh's chocolate (with more wine) for dessert finished it off nicely too. I didn't get a shot of that - are you crazy? Do you think chocolate lasts in front of me long enough to take a photo?!

Labrador Christmas Capers

Our dog, Taylor (that's her in the picture), loves Christmas. Why? Well, Christmas involves lots of a Labrador's favourite thing in the world: FOOD.

Despite still looking like a puppy (which generally means she gets away with a lot), Taylor is almost nine years old. She is one of the only skinny Labradors I've seen, as we keep her on a very strict diet. Except for when she has other ideas at a certain time of year. Here are a few of her Christmas highlights:

At my previous work, we were given a hamper for Christmas one year. Not just any hamper; a Cadbury hamper. Full of lovely chocolate (which, incidentally, is one of MY favourite things in the world). I left this collection of deliciousness in our spare room, still fully wrapped. I woke up the next morning to find wrappers strewn across the house and Taylor looking very guilty. Yep, she'd eaten the contents of the hamper. The whole lot. It's funny though, that every time I tell this story there is someone who feels the need to inform me that dogs are not meant to eat chocolate. It's not good for them, you know. Um, yep, that's why it was wrapped up in another room and NOT IN HER FOOD BOWL. Thanks for that.

Another year, on Boxing Day, we took her to stay with my parents-in-law while we went on holiday. My mother-in-law loves to cook, especially at Christmas time, and even more especially: desserts at Christmas time. That particular year, she had made a (fiddly, time-consuming) croquembouche which, due to the number of other desserts on offer, was still whole the next day. Sitting innocently in the fridge. That is, until my mother-in-law opened the fridge door and was bowled out of the way by one VERY enthusiastic dog. Taylor took a big bite out of the croquembouche before being shooed away. Bye-bye profiteroles.

Yet another episode, when staying with my parents-in-law over the Christmas holidays the next year (yes, they agreed to take her again!), she discovered their Christmas tree. My mother-in-law woke early one morning to some strange sounds and went into the lounge room to investigate. There was Taylor who, having pulled down the tree, was covered in tinsel and surrounded by the wrappers from the chocolates that had been hanging up. My mother-in-law said she would have almost cried at the mess if it hadn't have looked so damn funny. We haven't asked them to look after her at Christmas time since then.

I wonder what is in store for Taylor this year...

A World Without Internet Is...

Steve and I took a long drive together yesterday (no, that is NOT a euphemism; we actually drove to the country) and found ourselves pondering what life would be like if the Internet no longer existed. Here is what we came up with:

Instead of email, we would actually have to make phone calls to our friends, or send them a handwritten letter.

Porn would be delivered in brown paper envelopes.

We would need to buy real newspapers, have a whole cupboard taken up with phone books and use street directories.

Spam would once again be revolting meat in a can.

How would we know where to go when in need of a sex change or penis enlargement?

Encyclopedia sales reps would be back in business.

Parts of our language would become obsolete, as there would be no need to tell someone to 'Google it', and we wouldn't be 'Twittering' or 'Blogging'.

Ah, I love the Internet...

What's My Problem?

Remember I was saying last week that I have been struggling a bit lately?

I just read an article (you can view it here) that really brought things home for me. It talks about parenting being a struggle for perfectionists. Yep, that's me.

See, I've spent the last 15 months beating myself up. I feel guilty for every little thing I do. On many occasions I have been in tears because I haven't spent my day working around my daughter, expecting her to work around me instead. Maybe she didn't have a nap because I took her Christmas shopping, or she came down with a cold because I put her into childcare with other germy kids while I did some work, or she cried while I took a shower in peace. It might sound stupid, but I really struggle with those things. If a moment goes by where I don't put her first, I get pretty stressed.

I know, it sounds stupid. Unfortunately, it's just the way I am. I like to aim to be the best (I like to say this is perfectionism, but some cynics could call it competitiveness), and so parenting has been a big adjustment for me. Some people seem to take to it naturally, and in some ways I do. But it's so completely different to anything I've done before. Think about school, university, work - if you work hard and be the best, you'll be rewarded. Parenting - nope, it's not about achieving more. I mean, how can you be the best mother? There is no benchmark, there are no tangible results, no reports or appraisals resulting in pay-rises, nothing to compare with.

I tend to over-analyse things, think too much and aim for perfection in general. The logical part of my brain knows that I am a better mother when I just RELAX (but let me figure that one out for myself; tell me to relax at your own risk!). But then another section of my mind kicks in and I start researching everything, thinking about it all and analysing myself.

Is there an answer to this problem? Probably not (this is not very satisfactory to a perfectionist). Maybe it's all just about muddling our way through. And at the end of each day, being satisfied with the best result there is: a happy, healthy child who has had some fun. Oh, and a glass of wine...

The Drop In

I'm wondering why no one seems to 'drop in' on each other anymore... is it because we're all too busy? Or maybe we're worried about embarrassing our friends if their house isn't in a reasonable state?

Steve and I are 'dropper-inner-ers' - perhaps among the last of a dying breed. We enjoy dropping in on our friends and family on a whim. A lazy Sunday afternoon, we're likely to call into a friend's house as we go for a walk, or take a drive to see if someone is home. It makes for a lovely relaxed, spontaneous catch up.

I was brought up to love the 'drop in'. My Mum always says she prefers people to drop in unexpectedly, rather than a planned event. That way, there is no need to spend ages preparing and cleaning, and the visitors can't expect everything to be perfect.

But I think the main reason I love a 'drop in' is because it means someone is thinking of you. Someone out there is taking time out of their busy day to come and say hi.

Read, Share... Children's Books

I love reading and so I thought I'd start to share some of my favourites with you.

I'm in the mood for kids' books today...

I love reading to my little girl. I've read to her every day since she was born - it's such a special time and a chance for her to (shock, horror) sit still for a few minutes.

Now, at 15 months, she will choose a story that she wants to read and bring it over to me. She turns the pages (sometimes a little too quickly) and if she's sick of it, she'll close it and go and grab another story.

But my favourite part is the little actions we have when we reach a particular page, which she now does herself. When we read Mem Fox's 'Where Is The Green Sheep?' she will say 'SSHHHH' when we turn the page to find the green sheep fast asleep (sorry, I just gave away the ending...). During the book 'One Woolly Wombat' she will dance when she sees the kangaroos and pretend to splash with the platypuses. She loves Spot and will open the flaps and try to make the animal noises.

There are so many beautiful children's books around. I tend to go for the classics: I adore Mem Fox, Abbey loves Spot books, some of the 'interactive' books like Peekaboo or pointing and naming things are great, and The Very Hungry Caterpillar is always a hit.

My new favourite, though, is the self-published picture book, 'I Hear Two Birds' by Kathy Panton. I purchased this from her Etsy website (click here to go there) and received it in the mail today. It is such a bright, colourful and beautifully illustrated book. And the best part: Steve just read it to Abbey and she LOVES it. She laughed, pointed and even danced to it!

Come On... Get Happy!

I've been feeling a bit down this week... SO I thought it might be good to have some positive thoughts!

Are you ready?

Here are some of the things making me happy at the moment:

• I'm not Tiger Woods. Or one of his millions of women.
• Christmas is only 2 weeks away! That means great family time and a relaxing camping trip.
• My little girl is starting to talk more, and I love that I'm going to start hearing what she has to say (although, just wait for a post in a couple of months headlined: 'MAKE HER STOP!').
• My new thought process that my spare time is NOT boring; it's a chance to do things I always wanted to do, but never had the time for.
• I didn't have sex with Ray Fiennes (or anyone else for that matter!) on an aeroplane.
• I have a trip to Samoa planned next year with some great friends.

And, if you can just bear with me as I get soppy for a moment, I am mostly grateful for my amazingly wonderful husband. He never fails to be there for me when I need his support.

Thanks for reading - that makes me smile too!

I Keep Shopping at Myer... Why?

I shop at Myer occasionally, but my last couple of trips there have really made me wonder why I bother...


One day I was inspired to go to the Myer cosmetics department. And proceeded to spend a bit too much on my new discovery - Bloom makeup. I went over to the Bloom section, picked out the things I wanted and then went to find somewhere to pay for them. I spent the next 10 minutes (and I'm not exaggerating) standing at various cash registers, trying to make eye contact with staff members and eventually went to the nearest brand-name counter and said, "I just want to pay for these; can you help me?!" - although the silly cow had seen me standing there; she was looking rather bored at her counter and avoided making eye contact with me. Anyway.


The time before that, I took my sunglasses in to be fixed, as I had bought them at Myer. I waited 20 minutes to be served. The lady who eventually served me - and I don't blame her at all; in fact, she is the mother of a girl I was friends with at primary school, has worked at Myer for 25 years and was leaving that week because she was so sick of the way she was treated - was the sole person working in three sections: jewellery, handbags and sunglasses. This was during a sale. She was, of course, racing around like a chook missing a certain part of its anatomy. I asked her if it was always like that or if they were under-staffed that day. Nope, it's always like that, she told me.


Myer seems to think they have a focus on customer service. 


Really?


I don't think that's coming across and I'm not even a demanding customer. I don't want them to serve me as soon as I walk through the doors. I don't expect personal service. I just want someone to take my money.


Interestingly, they seem to be growing. One would assume the growth is despite this seeming lack of service, not because of it. I wonder why. Oh, hang on, maybe it's because people like me keep shopping there, rather than 'boycotting' it and demanding a better level of service.

Santa, Sisters And Believing

When I was 8 years old, my sister (aged 10) started telling me that Santa wasn't, you know, (whisper this bit) real. I refused to believe her. After all, how on earth could you not believe that a fat man from the North Pole got around in a sleigh led by flying reindeer every year, delivering toys to every child in the world? Or, more to the point, why would I believe my sister over my parents, who still insisted he was real?

Not happy that I didn't believe her, Kate took me to Mum and Dad's room and showed me where the Christmas presents were hidden (under the bed - very original). There were the games and toys we had each asked for and I was so excited. Then my sister said to me, 'Just wait and see on Christmas morning who they say these presents are from'.

So, Christmas morning came and the presents that had been under the bed were, of course, from Santa.

I had two problems that day. Firstly, trying to act surprised took all my energy. I was, and still am, a terrible liar. And secondly, the shock that Kate had been right and Mum and Dad had been lying to me. That was a devastating thought.

Every now and then I think back to that year and wonder if I really should do the same to my daughter. There are lots of people who don't let their kids believe in Santa, proud that they don't lie to their children. But then I think further back to the time that I did believe and, more recently, I see the excitement on my nieces' and nephews' faces on Christmas Day. I remember, and I see, the feeling of pure excitement and innocent belief that this magical person not only brought presents, but also remembered to think of them. It makes children feel special.

That is what I believe in.

(This post has been inspired by the lovely Naomi at Under the Yardarm, who wrote a post the other day about this bittersweet time in her life - her kids finding out the truth).

Holidays

This is where I am headed to in June next year, with Steve, Abbey and some friends. It's a trip to celebrate 30th birthdays (me and one of our friends).

Samoa. Beautiful.

The End Of An Era

This might be news to you: not only is a new year approaching, but a new DECADE. Oh, maybe everyone else thought of that except me; I only just realised...

A lot has happened in the last ten years. The world has changed and it's happened fast. It's ten years since we were partying like it was, um, 1999. A decade since everyone was panicking over the Y2K bug (did anyone else think midnight that year was a real anticlimax?).

And think about this:

Before this decade began we didn't have iPods, Facebook, Twitter, You Tube, blogs, Playstation 3 or Nintendo Wii, the iPhone. No one had heard of Harry Potter, Australian Idol, Big Brother.

What did we DO?

We also didn't really know about, or have any familiarity with, terrorism. Earlier this decade we could still take our own water bottles on aeroplanes. September 11 was just another date and New York, London and Bali seemed like pretty safe places to visit. And hurricanes and tsunamis have hit with force like we'd never before seen. Bushfires have raged.

The 2000s have also brought with them some huge debates: the environment, finances, technology, wars being fought.

On a personal note, this decade has seen some major life changes for me: buying a house, getting married, becoming an aunty, having my daughter. Travelling overseas, as well as seeing more of our own amazing country. My career began and I experienced lots of highs and lows working for the same company for nearly the whole decade. It faltered and re-started with some new opportunities. The 2000s have been my 20s and with 2010 will come my 30s. Here's hoping it's another awesome decade!

An Issue Close To My Heart

Mixing work and parenting. This is a tricky one. There is no right or wrong answer as to how parents can do this, and it varies greatly depending on individual circumstances: financial needs, personal aspirations, career goals, and the way you want to raise your children.

But it is an issue that gets me VERY fired up. To give you some background - I 'had' a career running a Human Resources department for a medium-sized company. I also studied part-time for a fair chunk of that time, so my life was pretty damn busy for a while. I worked hard to get where I was and I was determined not to go 'backwards' when I had children. Famous last words.

After Abbey was born I decided I wanted to work part time. I was told this was fine, but once I returned to work, I was basically informed I had to come back full time and run the department again. No negotiation. I chose to leave the company, which was a HUGE decision after being there for over eight years. But, being in the fortunate situation of not financially needing to work full time, I decided to stay home with my daughter for a bit longer and keep an eye out for part time work.

But my problem lay not in finding part time work, but finding INTERESTING part time work. Work that could both drag me away from my little girl and also pay enough to warrant forking out for child care. (I will also add that I did knock back a good job, once I found out it was with a tobacco company - I couldn't do that; it's one thing I'm really, really against).

And it's not just me. Plenty of people are in similar situations, but often without the relative luxury of being able to knock back their permanent full time job when their employer makes such demands.

There is an article in today's papers (you can read it here) talking about the adverse effects that being a stressed, over-worked mother can have on both your own health and the lives of your children.

Um, really? You think that having a stressed mother will affect the whole family? Gee, what a surprise. (For the record, I also think fathers should be included in this. All the responsibility and guilt are placed on mothers, but we really need to start valuing fathers more by expecting that they, too, can be more involved in the day-to-day raising of their children).

To me, the article also has an added flavour of guilt for any reader who happens to be a working mother. As if anyone needed that. But this is what gets me - the onus is on mothers to not work so many hours, to put their kids into childcare less, to spend more time with the family. But where is the demand on companies to provide them with such work? Yes, legislation is coming in next year to give parents the 'right to request' flexibility - but I've worked in H.R. long enough to know that there is always a way to 'accept' such requests but to make people's lives so difficult that it becomes impossible for them.

In my opinion, we need to put the issue back onto employers. Give them incentives to provide flexible working arrangements. Find out WHY people need to be there such long hours. Why can't some work be done from home? Why is a job share out of the question? Why does an efficient worker have to stay late?

In short: the structure of our workforce needs to change. Employers should be held more accountable and become more flexible with their employees. And in return, they will have loyal, focused workers.

Travel Sins

There was a story in the papers about the seven sins of travelling (you can view it here). I'm ashamed to admit that I've broken a couple of them...

The first one - 'Taking budget travel too seriously' - is one that we have been guilty of. One instance immediately springs to mind. We were on our first trip to Europe and driving around Switzerland. Such an amazing country, but VERY expensive. We felt like we were going way over our budget so one night, in Lucerne, we found a caravan park with cabins. They had a few cabins free, but as we handed over the equivalent of AUD$20 (thinking we'd snared the best bargain!), the guy just casually told us the power isn't working. That's fine, we thought, we don't need power.

But once we were inside the cabin, we realised a couple of things: firstly, that the cabin had bunk beds with no blankets, pillows, etc. (as we had been staying in hotels, we didn't have any of those things with us); and secondly: no power meant no heating. In the middle of Switzerland. And it was snowing.

We didn't sleep much that night, with a cheap blanket we ended up buying, as well as the spare bunk mattresses on top of us. And we got up as soon as it was light and drove off in our heated rental car.

We didn't skimp on accommodation too much after that.

The last sin in the article - 'Judging other travellers' - is another one I have to admit I've done. But seriously, how annoying are some American tourists?! Although, during that same trip to Europe, we were on a bus driving around Paris, with a couple of Americans and an Australian. The Americans were lovely, but this Australian girl was so odd - all the way around the city she kept saying, 'That reminds me of Adelaide!' Um, Adelaide? Last time I went there, it really didn't look like Paris. So yes, I judged her... as AN IDIOT!

Photo 'With' Santa

Last year my little girl had her first photo with Santa and she was so good, but she was only three months old and really didn't care who had her, as long as they weren't trying to make her sleep. But I distinctly remember the little girl who went after Abbey: she would have been between twelve and eighteen months and she screamed. Steve and I looked at each other and said, 'That will be Abbey next year!'

So along I went this morning for this year's photo. I actually didn't think it would be a problem; Abbey is pretty outgoing and doesn't mind strangers (as was evident by the way she was running around saying hi to everyone having a coffee at the cafe near Santa!). Apparently Santa is scarier than most strangers though - she has never clung so tightly to me. She would NOT let me put her on Santa's knee. So yes, she was THAT little girl.

I guess I don't blame her. When she's older, she will realise that Santa is associated with fun things, but for the moment he's just a big scary-looking man with a long beard.

So here is how we did the photo:

See how happy she is, thinking Santa has gone?!

So You Think You Can Be A Party Leader

So, Tony Abbott is the new Liberal leader, blah blah blah. Don't worry, I'm not here to bore you with politics - you've most likely heard or seen nothing else on the radio, TV and newspapers lately.

What I want to talk about is the way in which a new leader for a political party is chosen. A vote: fair enough. But for only the members of the party to vote? That is SO last century.

Come on pollies, you need to get the younger generations excited about politics, and this is the age of reality television, the generation of instant gratification. Sitting back waiting for an announcement, without having any input, is not the way we do things. Why not open up the voting? (Before you click off my page in disgust, hear me out).

Imagine this: several potential leaders, one public showdown. Auditions would be held. And judged. The usual format of course, with one smarmy horrible judge, a token nice judge, plus George Calombaris (just because he provides hours of entertainment with comments of gold like this one: 'That looks like spew!'). Post-audition tears, sob stories ('My dog died when I was two, and I promised him I'd win this') and a promise to the successful 'contestants' of a ticket to Canberra.

In Canberra, more auditions followed by constant advertising with, of course, the numbers to text or call to vote for your favourite. One eliminated each week. A grand finale between the final two. Natalie Bassingthwaite or Andrew G stringing it out for as long as possible - who will be eliminated? We'll find out after this short break! Even better: Natalie AND Andrew! Together, there would be plenty of waiting for ads to finish with an added bonus of a flood of tears at each elimination.

The public have voted. Abbott Schmabbot. I think Shannon Noll would win.

Just Like A Tattoo

I'm not a fan of tattoos. I find it a bit strange that people feel the need to have something permanently printed on their skin. I just don't get it.

So it might surprise you that I actually have one.

The day after I turned 18, I was shopping with a friend. I told her it might be 'cool' to get a tattoo and she reminded me that there was a tattoo parlour across the road from this shopping centre. So across we went - me thinking that I'd have to make an appointment and, therefore, would have time to pull out. Guess again. The guy told me he had time straight away. And so I had a small star tattooed on my ankle.

I have regretted it ever since.

So, a few months ago, I began laser treatment to have it removed. The tattoo cost $50 to have put there and took about half an hour. The removal is costing $110 per treatment, with eight to ten treatments needed. That's a lot of effort and money. It's also VERY painful. Before I commenced the treatments, I asked how it would feel and if it would hurt. I was told it felt like a rubber band being flicked on your skin. Ha, no problems, that's nothing! But they lied. Well, at least last time I had a rubber band flicked on me I didn't come up with a massive blister and feel like my skin was on fire.

Everyone I have mentioned the removal to has asked the same question: why bother, when it's a small tattoo that no one even notices? The answer is: I notice it. I look at it all day and wonder why I did it. It doesn't suit me and I don't even like tattoos. And the only meaning it has is that I wanted to do something rebellious (although that lost its significance when I realised that waiting until I was 18 wasn't particularly wild!).

My advice to anyone thinking of getting a tattoo: think very carefully about it. Never get one on the spur of the moment.

It could have been worse though. The man doing my tattoo removal told me he has a client who, whilst out drinking with some mates, took up a dare to have his FULL NAME written in big writing down his arm. More advice from me: don't ever do that...