Addicted to Pinterest

I, like many others, have recently become addicted to the latest online trend of Pinterest. It's basically your own online inspiration board where you can 'pin' pictures/ideas that you like from all over the web.

The main problem, and not just for me, is actually leaving the computer and getting around to making some of the wonderful, must-have ideas that you've pinned. So I finally bit the bullet and made something .. one of those 'why didn't I think of that' craft things.

My original inspiration came from someone else's pin of this picture:

which takes you back to the original creator, in this case Angela Sgro Designs.

After spending waaay too much time in the paint aisle at Bunnings trying to decide which colours to pick, I finally just grabbed two of each of six different colour swatches and ran for the hills calmly sauntered out.

Then they were packed up with the rest of the craft stuff and moved house with us back at the end of November. I kept finding them every time I was looking for something so I finally stopped putting them away in mid-December and sat down to make some Christmas cards. (Can't rush these things you know!)

I figured they would be easy to make, especially as I already had card, adhesives and background paper. The hardest part was working out the angles to cut them on so I didn't end up with all the weird paint names all over my 'trees'. The trial and error with the cutting around the names is what caused the different sizes and the upside down 'darker at the top; lighter at the bottom' trees.

Anyway, here's my attempts:

I think they turned out quite well and the people I managed to send them to seemed to like them too.

Nothing quite like the sense of achievement you get from actually making something yourself ... even if it would have been heaps cheaper to just use all the discounted cards you bought at the end of last year's Christmas sales!

Aaahhh ... the joys of being crafty and not thrifty!

So proud! (and yet still annoyed!!)

First things first: We're very proud of Alex for receiving an award for the highest mark in Mathematics 2C/2D for the whole school! Good on you son!

(That's his hurry-up-and-take-the-picture-already-cos-you're-embarrassing-me face otherwise known as his I-AM-smiling face! We only just made it to the ceremony in time so I suppose I'm lucky I got the picture at all!)

The boys' school has two Praise and Thanksgiving ceremonies at the end of the year; one for primary during the morning and one in the evening for the secondary students. The students have to wear full winter uniform (including their wool blazers) so not many students are keen to go as it means that they will

1. have to get dressed in their uniform again


2. have to go back to school after the end of the last day of school


3. be hot in their uniforms in the un-airconditioned gym


4. have to sit still and behave while some 'old people' drone on up at the front ("It's just like being in class and school's finished for the year ... whinge whine")

Bearing all this in mind, I had decided it wasn't worth the battle, once I got home from a hot day's work, of getting them all fed, showered and dressed in their uniforms and back to school, especially as they hadn't even been to school that day due to issues with getting them there from the new house. (I figured it wouldn't hurt to miss the last day as they would only have been cleaning anyway!)

I had planned on a nice quiet evening and all was going well until we had a knock on the door at 4:45pm. It was the postie with a big stack of mail, re-directed from the old house and post office box. Being slightly pre-occupied with other things, I left the stack of mail for an hour before having a quick look through it all.

Amongst the letters from the real estate agents and the bills, was a letter from the school dated two weeks prior informing us that Alex was going to be receiving an award at Secondary Praise and Thanksgiving and to please RSVP by one week prior to enable the school to plan the awards ceremonies. If he was planning on attending, he needed to be there by 6pm (it was now 5:50pm!) in full winter uniform.

After a hurried discussion with Alex, who decided that he would like to go, and his brothers, who decided they were quite comfortable in their pyjamas and didn't want to get dressed and go, he and I jumped in the car and broke some land speed records to get him there (close to) on time. Turned out that I could have taken my time (or at least another ten minutes) as he didn't really need to be there until 6:30pm and that the RSVP wasn't really necessary (thank goodness!)

Long story short, (I know .. too late!) we made it in time, I got to see him get his award, have a couple of free biscuits and then we got in the car and came home for a well deserved rest.

Well done Alex!

Not so well done Australia Post mail re-direction!

I think I'm going to have to cut my fingernails ... the dashboard won't be able to take much more!

We were getting ready to leave this for school and work this morning and I was yawning my head off after taking Peter to the airport at dark o'clock. Andrew noticed and asked me if I was awake enough to be in charge of a vehicle. He then very kindly offered to drive for me to which I replied something along the lines of over my dead body maybe he can when he has a learner's permit. The instant gleam in his eye at that comment made me wonder what was coming next.

You'd think I would have learned to not speak out loud in front of my children, especially when tired, as it inevitably leads to a decision I find myself second-guessing for the rest of the day, with today being no exception.

Andrew's next response?

"So can Alex drive us all seeing as he has got a learner's permit?"

Yes, my first baby Alex has a motor vehicle learner's permit as well as his moped licence. He has been for two, count them: one, two, lessons in total (only one of which was on the actual road) and has had about 30 minutes of country highway driving experience (obtained last weekend with Peter). So, after a few seconds deliberation and reasoning that I'm already going grey (ssshhh!) so a few more grey hairs wouldn't really hurt (until I tried to pull them all out and sent myself bald), I agreed.

I don't know who was more nervous ... him or me. I know they were all surprised that I said yes (so was I to tell the truth!) and were probably wondering if I was trying to kill them by letting him drive.

Overall, considering it was only the third time he'd ever driven on a road (no Peter, driving the Navara at the shed doesn't count!) and the third different car in which he'd done it, he did really well. A bit more practice (and Valium for me!) and I'm sure he'll be fine.

The curbs may be living in fear for a while as I'm sure Alex was trying to get my front passenger side tyre and the curb on every road to have 'intimate relations' or some sort of strength competition but that may have just been my perception from the death seat passenger seat.

I have decided that the entire world looks way too close from the front passenger seat ... must be something to do with the way light refracts through the windscreen and my fingers over my eyes ... as, despite knowing that we were only going at 55kmph for most of the trip, it sure seemed faster. Everything seem to appear suddenly in front of us and not having a brake pedal on my side of the car resulted in a few new dents in the floor pan .. nothing a mat can't cover!

His first time driving an automatic coupled with his rather large, very heavy feet, resulted in a couple of hairy moments like the time he got up to 80kmph between two roundabouts approximately 400m apart, at both of which he had to stop to allow other cars to continue. I don't think I dented the dashboard with my head but I'm sure I put a a hole in the floor trying to brake a la Fred Flintstone!

Seriously though, he did much better than I expected but I think I'll go stock up on some more Clairol Nice 'n' Easy and some Valium ...

(Just Another) Manic Monday

Snippets from recent Manic Mondays:

3/10/2011

First official day of school holidays so of course I slept in to 7:45am.
No milk for a cup of tea (which I didn't really have time for anyway).
Noticed I had next to no fuel so crossed my fingers and hoped I'd make it to work.
Got caught at every red light and railway crossing on the way to work.
Made it to work (and only 15 minutes later than usual).
Walked into my office to a ringing phone and nearly broke my leg on the parcel some idiot person had kindly left right in front of the door as I raced for said phone.
Answered the phone to find Bradley on the other end asking if he could have ice cream for breakfast too.
Upon further questioning, I ascertained that the idea had been planted in his head by his supposedly more sensible older brother (Alex) who was at that very moment chowing down on a very large bowl of ice cream.
When I questioned Alex as to why he thought that eating ice cream for breakfast was a good idea or even acceptable, his response was that it was a dairy food so how was it any different from having milk?
Then he asked if it would be better if he put Milo cereal in it.
It was about this point that I realised it wouldn't kill him (his brothers maybe) so gave up and went back to dealing with the other children employees waiting for my attention.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10/10/2011

My first day (of three weeks) at Austral Bricks Malaga.
After it only taking 35 minutes for me to get to Malaga on the previous Thursday, I was somewhat surprised to find that it took me over an hour to get there on Monday morning.
During the long and rather boring drive, I spotted a van in front of me that had all sorts of stuff crammed into the boot and back seat. It looked like the occupants were moving house and this was the dregs ... you know all those leftover bits that seem to hide when you're packing.
Upon pulling level with the elderly female driver, I realised it was in fact, an episode of Hoarders ... just on wheels!
There was so much stuff crammed into every available space, I'm surprised she was able to see out of the windscreen. There was barely enough room to turn the steering wheel and I'm not just talking boxes or bags of stuff. There was layer-upon-layer of receipts, paperwork, rubbish and junk mail. Some archaeologist would have a had a field day excavating that lot. There may have even been remains of some pre-2000 lifeform, possibly under the layer of stuff that used to be the passenger seat.
That wasn't the scariest part though. That was as I pulled level with her for the second time, she reached into the pile of stuff that was where the passenger seat should have been, pulled something out, peered at it for a second then.ate.it! Eeeeewwwwww!!
Then she turned up Kewdale Road and disappeared from sight ... off to scare some other poor unsuspecting road user.

Love this one!

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The point of no return...

It has been six months since I started at Austral and I am now officially off probation.

I don't know whether to be relieved or amused that the boss didn't even realise I was on probation until I pointed it out to him at our last snooze-fest meeting. All the other managers/supervisors said they were aware of it (due to it being standard practice) but, as the probation goes both ways (ie. me giving them a trial too), they were hoping that if no-one mentioned it, I would be happy to stay. Nice to know I'm wanted.

I do enjoy the job and like (most) of the guys, but I am now at the stage of feeling settled, while at the same time feeling like I'm on auto-pilot ... and not just at work.

I have nothing but admiration for single mums who do all this on their own as well as all the other mums in similar situations to mine (hubby working away and working full-time themselves), but at the moment I'm not thinking about them. It's all about me people!

Auto-pilot is dangerous for me as it usually precedes a lower than usual depressive episode. The fact that I have resorted to my old organisational quirks to try and feel in control of my life is a bit of a concern too.

The boys think it's funny when Mum makes the clothes pegs match each other as well as the clothes they are pegged on.

And apparently it's hilarious when Mum makes sure that there are only white pegs on the clothes airer and a certain number per rung at that.

And then when she organises the pantry so everything is organised by type of goods and then size of box/container, they are almost in hysterics (until they are told that they now have to wash all the Tupperware containers they put back in the pantry empty!)

However, it's not so funny when Mum can't be bothered getting out the bed she has crawled into after work to make them dinner.

And it's not funny when there's no clothes to wear because they're all still sitting in the washing machine after being washed for the fifth time without being hung out.

And it's definitely not funny when Mum totally loses her shit and yells about every.little.thing (real or imagined) that should have been done but hasn't or hasn't been done right or hasn't even been thought of yet but why haven't they read my mind and done it without being asked.

Luckily, I am not as the stage of crawling into bed as soon as I get home or of yelling at them for anything and everything. I am aware of this particular slippery slope and am making more of a concerted effort to keep myself upright and moving forward; not downward.

I am not as terrified of showing people the 'real me'; the one that occasionally doesn't cope too well with the whole situation; the one who sometimes just wants everyone to just go away and leave me alone.

However, it is still hard to not feel alone and isolated; still hard to ask for help when you don't know what would help; still hard to keep putting one foot in front of the other even though you know people are depending on you; still hard to put on your game face and get out into the world.

I came to the realisation the other day that I am way more like my mother than I would like to be. Depression is hereditary after all. But hopefully my awareness of my own triggers and warning signs will ensure that they aren't too affected by my issues. Hopefully it will make them slightly more sympathetic to those who struggle with issues of their own (be they mental, physical or emotional).

Hopefully my boys will be OK.

Where does he get this stuff from?

Overheard in the car this afternoon, whilst driving home from taking a look at the house:

Brad: Drew, you know how they say 'you are what you eat'?

Drew: Yes. What about it?

Brad: It's really strange isn't it?

Drew: What's strange about it?

Brad: I really don't remember eating a sexy beast!

I'm kinda dreading what he'll be like once the testosterone really kicks in!!

The things they say ...

Whilst having a discussion with the boys about our menu plan for the week, Bradley came up with a new term for boiled potatoes. It went a little something like this:


Me: Well how about we have vegetables and potatoes with that instead of chips?


Brad: Mashed potatoes?


Me: I was thinking jacket potatoes.


Brad: No, I want nude potatoes.


Me: What on earth are nude potatoes?


Brad: You know Mum (insert eye roll here) ... ones without their clothes on.


Me: (being purposely slow on the uptake .. honest!) What clothes?


Brad: The only clothes they have ... their jackets ... duh!