BFLON

BFLON? Yes, big fat lot of nothing.  That's what last month's cycle turned out to be.  It's ok, it was an incredibly long shot.  To fall pregnant, you need to have done the baby dance at the very latest 2 or 3 days prior to ovulation.  Last cycle, I think it was about 5 days.  That's too long, no matter which way you cut it.  I mean, don't get me wrong, sometimes strange things happen.. but in my opinion, if you've "conceived" by "dancing" 4 or 5 days prior to ovulation, you've got the ovulation dates wrong (more than likely..).

Anyway, pressing on to a new cycle, which happened to fall conveniently over my man's holidays! Yay for baby making to a less ridiculous schedule!! For those that don't already know, my husband is away all week and home on the weekends due to work.  So to have him home for almost a week was pure bliss, and honestly, very convenient! ;o) It just so happened that I ovulated much earlier than I anticipated, so the timing could not have possibly been any more perfect!  Keep in mind, we are trying for a girl, so it's a little more finicky than going for a boy.  You can google that... I don't have the energy to break it down right now. :o)

So here I am, at the very beginning of yet another 2WW, which may or may not drive me crazy this time.  I feel so optimistic about this cycle that I feel like I can just forget about it for a week or so and then scrutinise every little twinge for pregnancy signs.  I'll let you know how I'm going though (unlike last month.. sorry about that..)

Good luck and babydust to all those TTCers out there!

A. xo

The DPO countdown..

I'm 8 DPO (days past ovulation) and I'm starting to tear little bits of my hair out.  I can't stand this waiting thing.. SO, I did a pregnancy test.  That's a dumb move, and I know that, but I did it anyways.  I kept thinking I could see a tiny little faint line - I hope I could, as that means tomorrow will be a less faint line.. but if I didn't, tomorrow will be disappointing.

Not to worry I guess.  This too shall pass, as someone once said. :o)  I'm going to class this morning's HPT as a BFN and keep waiting. :oS

A. xo

Two Week Wait

Ohhh how I loathe the TWW.. Most mummies, or mummies to be, or even wanna be mummies will agree that the tww is the WORST two weeks of your LIFE! (maybe I'm dramatic, but I'm sure some people would agree with me).  The tww consists of scrutinising everything your body does, and praying with every fibre of your being that it's doing what you think it's doing.  Then there's the convenience of the HPT (home pregnancy test).. which is oh so easy to overuse!  Most pregnant women don't have detectable amounts of the needed hormone - HCG - until a day or more after they've missed their period, which produces painfully negative tests from about 7 days past ovulation.  Every test is like a punch in the face.  Trust me on that one.

So I want to hear from those in their two week wait.. because I too am there.  Yes, hubby and I are actively trying, and now I'm going to drive myself insane with every little sign and symptom until the day I get my dear old friend (whom I hate very much) Aunt Flow.

On the bright side, it's only about 6 days til I can test... 6 whole long torturous days... Wish me luck!! :o)

A. xo

New Blog!

Just a quick note to let you know about my new blog ~ Eli & Sass.  Please stop by soon!!


A. xo

Babies are a business. Cash in.

Sounds pretty awful, I know, but it's true.  Babies are totally a business of their own, and that business is one that is either really really amazing, or really really bad... I plan to do the former.

I have been a representative for Baby BeeHinds in my area since February this year.  I'm sorry to say, I haven't really taken that bull by the horns - yet...  I recently exhibited at a home and lifestyle expo in Kingaroy in order to try and get some exposure to the brand and it's availability in the area.  I think, I may have somewhat achieved my purpose!  So many mummies and daddies and babies waddled past and checked out the oh so cute nappies and a few other products I had displayed.  They were both stunned and impressed at the functionality and quality of them, and I was equally stunned at the amount of interest I generated!  It reinvigorated me to start pumping my business idea.  I don't know if I should really announce it before I've even really had a chance to set it up, as some brainiac with actual money might decide it's a great idea and they'll do it better.... but I'll give you a hint.  Think baby shop, but mobile.  It's obviously still in it's baby (pardon the pun!!) stages and will probably take a while to set up properly and it will require money ---- that could be an issue... hehe BUT I'm inspired, and that's all that matters!

Anyway, I just wanted to draw attention to my facebook page (there's a like box on the right at the top ---->>) cos I seriously need likers... so please support me in my venture!!

Thanks all!

A. xo

Got one, been there, have the t-shirt to prove it...

So.  Two days ago, Eli didn't have a cubby house/tent thingy.  Today, he does.  Why?  Well, because he didn't have one two days ago..  And he needed one..  Obviously!

Why is it that (SOME) mums -- ME -- feel the need to update kids' toy collections to brimming every other week?  We are single handedly keeping Ebay in business I'm sure of it.  Either way, I have an obsession I'm sure I share with many many mothers and fathers out there.  The one that ensures your kid has everything he or she could ever want, or imagine wanting.  It's like this:  *Child glances sideways at massively ugly and annoying toy*. . . "Ooh!  You like that purple stuffed elephant that sings ABC repetitively and has a glowing trunk and tail?  Yes, I can see that would be useful for helping you learn the alphabet.  Let's buy it!"  You see! I am setting my kid up for boredom.  He'll have played at least once with every toy on the market, therefor, nothing will be new and exciting for him.

Stupid thing is, I think we all judge each other just a little bit when we see other mummies buying their child every newfangle thing in toy catalogues.  Sometimes, I see things other parents have purchased, and somewhere in the back of my mind I'm calculating whether or not I would have wasted my money on such trivial purchases (or in some cases, extravagant purchases..)  Truth is, if I thought Eli would like it, or get a modicum of enjoyment from it, I would spend any money on anything for him.  Most mothers would - if they had the means.  But does that mean our children are spoiled?  Or loved?  I don't even know the answer, and if I did, I probably wouldn't say it out loud.  I might be admitting to spoiling my child, and that would ruin the "perfect parent" image I have of myself.  Uncool... ;o)

There you have it.  Another chapter in the ramblings of an unsettled mind...  Glad you could keep me company. :o)

A. xo

Wherefor art thou Bloggers?

I'm sorry... I've been MIA again... I can only apologise and stride ahead, hoping that my latest entry will re-enlist my faithful readers. :oD Dramatic?  No, not me...

Well, HI!  I'm back, and boy oh boy, we have had a good time!  Since my last blog post, I've been camping, had some really wonderful times with my husband and Eli has begun taking some very confident solo steps!  I honestly thought my list would be longer, it seemed longer in my head, but I guess those few things are enough for now... :o)

First things first:  Eli's walking!  My little treasure is stepping his way to toddlerdom, each day he gets more and more confident.  It started literally about 3 weeks ago, he let go of the chair in the lounge room at mum's place and took 3 giant steps towards the cat.  He likes to pin the cat down and rub his face on her belly...  Anyway, I missed it.  Looked away at the wrong time kinda thing.  Happily, though, since then he's done it a million more times, each time he gets further and further.  Now, he'll climb up onto my lap, grasp my fingers and pull my hand to take him for a walk.  It's adorable, if not somewhat annoying.. (when all you want to do is sit and relax and a 1 year old keeps tugging you for "walkies", you can't help but feel bittersweet about it...)  Needless to say, this is a major turning point for all of us... or at least that's what I'm told.  You know what though?  Long, long, long gone are the days I could put him somewhere and know he'd still be there a few minutes later.  At least if he's walking I'll get more exercise...!?

I firmly believe that while you cannot predict and pre-empt every move a toddler will make, if they're well disciplined (and Eli is), you can ensure that if they do run off on you, they will return swiftly at your call.  I was in Aldi yesterday, buying Eli lots of plastic and wooden things to play with (aka: toys) and there was a 5 or 6 year old running around away from his mum.  The mother resorted to bad language beckoning him back - which obviously didn't work - and I stepped forward, looked him right in the eye, and quietly said "Get back to your mother... Now."  He eyeballed me for a second and when I repeated myself ever so slightly louder and clearer, he ran for his mum so fast I saw smoke coming off his shoes.  This kid was laughing at his own mother while she shouted obscenities from 10 metres back.  I can't help but think that if he was my child, he'd not be all that brave to laugh at me when I tell him to do something.  Poor parenting.  That's all that comes down to...

Rant over.  :o)

In other news, the camping trip was fantastic!  We went for 5 days/4 nights to Caliguel Lagoon near Condamine, Queensland.  The actual spot was free to camp at, which was groovy, and it was right on the water.  The lagoon was just beautiful, I was almost a little sad that it wasn't warm enough to swim in, but having said that, the days were so warm, if it had been warmer, camping wouldn't have been too fun.  Eli thought it was warm enough to swim in though... we had trouble keeping him out of the water to be honest.  But he's crazy... Anyways, we went exploring and found a really cool historical village in Miles, which was nothing less than extraordinary.  The whole thing was completely set up to be a 30's-50's town, complete with a jail, milkshake shop and hospital!  You've gotta go see it if you're in the general area... or even if you're not, GO!!  Miles is about 2.5 hours from Kingaroy, which is where I am.  So that wasn't too bad.  It's probably the same sort of distance from Brisbane, perhaps slightly longer.. but it's worth checking it out.

I think that's all I have for now.  I'm debating whether to do a post about the Birqa and the Mining tax issue... but we'll see how much energy I can muster for that loaded discussion...

Don a snuggie and bunker down peeps... it's getting cold! :o)

A. xo

To my little boy...

You're not as little as I remember you.  Once upon a time, you were only 54.5cm long, weighed a fraction more than 4kg, and barely ever opened your eyes.  It seems, without me even noticing, you've grown and developed into this walking, talking little man, with your own ideas about the world.  I have loved watching you this past year, and I know that with each one that passes, I am only going to love you more.

When I brought you home, I didn't know what to do with you.  If you weren't asleep, I got nervous, wondering what I'd done wrong.  But then, the awake times started to get longer, the sleep times shorter and more scheduled, and I grew to know you and anticipate the times we could spend together.  I fell in love with you completely, so much that I thought my heart may explode.

I remember when you first slept in your cot, in another room.  I was nervous, and I missed you, but I had to be strong.  Turned out, you loved your big bed - much more than the little bassinet I had beside my bed.  You liked to sleep on your tummy and spread out your arms and legs.  The bassinet was cramping your style...  :o)  

You were 17 weeks old when your first teeth came through - two of them at the bottom.  That was a challenge, for both of us.  I was so thrilled for you, and proud at my little "early achiever".  You had been so sick with pain and fever from those wretched things, so when they made their appearance, we all breathed a little sigh of relief for you.  I hated not being able to take the pain for you.  But, look at you now!  One year old, and have your first molar.  You handled it like a pro.. You're completely awesome. :o)

You began to roll over at about 5 months.  I couldn't believe how clever you were.  I was so excited, I must have captured you on camera about a thousand times!  As someone once said to me, you were the most photographed child in history... you probably still are.  It was only a couple of months later, you started to crawl.  You were so keen to get moving, you used to caterpillar crawl around our tiny townhouse's kitchen.  I wondered if you'd get the hang of "four-point crawling".. and you did, eventually.  You're still crawling mostly, with a little attempt at walking thrown in here and there.  

You talk to me, you copy me on the phone, you point and use sign language to tell me what you want.  You get into so much mischief, and you love it.  You have an incredible sense of humour, and I don't know when you learnt it, but you know how to share a laugh with us... :o)  

I watch you now and wonder what happened to my sleepy little newborn, who used to fall asleep in my arms and stay there for hours on end...  I never thought I'd say it, but I miss you being so small and fragile, so delicate and dependent.  In the same breath, I love seeing you grow and develop and learn new things.  Every day you get a little stronger, a little smarter, a little more incredible - sometimes I can hardly believe my eyes.  

I love you, my handsome little boy, you are my world.  I could burst - I am so filled with adoration for you.  I wish that every person in the world could experience that feeling, the undeniable pang of unconditional love.  It's only been one year, and in the scheme of things, that's not much.  But you have made my life so much more special, so much more full, so incredibly wonderful in your short life, and I cannot wait to see what you have in store for the future.  

I love you, my baby boy. 

Mum. xo 

Brrrrrrrrrr!

It's so COLD!!  But, I believe I predicted the big freeze... The other day, Sunday to be a little more precise, I was enjoying lunch with family and friends, sweltering in the humidity that was melting me, one drop of perspiration at a time.  I stated in that moment:  "I'll bet this is the last hurrah of heat before the weather turns drastically and freezes us all into another ice age."  That's what I said.  Turns out, I was RIGHT.  Not that it really matters now, I guess...

All of that aside, I just wanted to blog and tell you that I have nothing to tell you.  That may be inaccurate, since I just wasted a minute or two of your life with my "cold weather prediction" story.  But I guess, other than that, I don't have all that much to say.  Sadly for you, I happen to be a rambler, so I'll end up putting on some music and tapping my fingers and somehow a blog post will appear, right before my eyes.  Sucks to be you... :oP

Eli has been teething, again, still, more, etc.  He's got these enormous dark grey spots on his gums where his first bottom molars are going to pop up.  He's not really at the age where he should have them, but hey, he kinda needs them.  He's a meat eater (as I mentioned in a very recent post, I do recall).  He wants to have a crack at just about any food, so molars will definitely come in handy for that.  Not so great for the furniture he chews on, but I guess that's a small price to pay for a sane child who can eat an entire steak for breakfast...

In other news, I recently put an amazingly gorgeous decal on the wall of my bedroom.... I posted that one on Facebook, so many will have seen it, but for those who haven't, it's awesome.  It took me AGES to do, cutting out all the bits individually, and sticking them on in the right spots according to the picture on the box.  It was heaps of fun though, and surprisingly simple.  I'm always a little bit nervous about putting something like that on the walls, in case it doesn't come off, or if I stick it up the wrong way it won't look as good as the display -- but this one did!!  It was easy, and looks fantastic.  I really have to get into the whole decorating thing.. you know, pick a colour and go for it.  It's really fun!!

See, I told you I'd think of something....

I must scoot off though, I think I hear my baby crying... (sorry, no life lessons or big advice today.. you'll have to fend for yourself this time! hehe)

A. xo

Munchkin of the hour:

- Posted from Lola the iPhone

Just for kicks!

I wanna meet my readers (the ones I don't know especially!) ... So, if you drop by (even if I know you already...), please leave a comment and tell me your name and where you're from!!

I've had visitors across my blog from all over America, Australia, and a couple in Europe!  I'm thrilled that so many people are enjoying my blog.. ! :o)

Sending sleepy dust for all the mummies and daddies out there, as well as perhaps some good fortune for the rest of you...

A. xo

One for me, one for you.

Last night I slept more soundly than I have in weeks.  I think I even heard Eli wake up, but can't be sure.  I've put that down to an oddly real dream...  I woke up this morning to Eli yelling out at me.. it was pretty clear he had been for a little while, I was just too soundly asleep to notice! Oops... hehe  He's fine though.  Always seems to make it through, despite my mismanagement of things occasionally.  


Currently, he's sitting at his highchair, watching "In The Night Garden", eating grapes.  Don't ask me why, but he LOVES grapes.  This love affair with the little green orb started while out shopping.  Mum grabs a tiny bunch of grapes still on the stems and he eats them while we do our groceries.  If he's a really good boy - which he always is - he gets a cheerio.  My husband hates that he gets a cheerio... says they're full of rubbish.  I agree, they are, but I figure that one a week isn't going to hurt him, when as a child I used to have them slightly more frequently than that.  I turned out alright... :o)


I used to be a complete nazi with the food Eli would eat.  I'm really not so much anymore.  He's decided he likes meat.  A lot.  He loves cold roast chicken, steak, lamb, roast pork, anything really.  Sausages he can take or leave, but bacon and eggs is one of his faves.  It's kinda bizarre... I would never have fed him meat. I would've made a little vego out of him.  That's only for health reasons, not because I feel that eating animals is inhumane.  If you think about it, it kinda is, but I tend not to think about it, so it doesn't bother me.  Another thing I was determined not to give him was chocolate.  When I say "determined", I really mean that when he was a newborn, so fresh, clean, and perfect, I had decided that later on I wouldn't give it to him.  It's just another example of how much I didn't know...  If your kid is watching you eat chocolate, as you enjoy its rich, creamy, velvety flavour explosion, you're going to share.  As much as you're going to want to have the stick to not give it to them, you're going to want them to love it just as much as you are in that moment.  And they will.  :o)  After that, they know what it is, and what they're missing, so they're going to pester you for more, every time you eat it in front of them.  So begins what we'll refer to as "The Chocolate - Eating Continuum." 


I don't remember when I relaxed my laws on eating.  I guess it was some time in there when Eli was being a monster and I gave him something to quieten him down.  Maybe it was after he fell and hurt himself, or hit his head on something... I can't remember... All I know is that I did.  I'm not completely stupid, mind you.  I learnt my lesson after a crappy few days with him.  He'd had an inordinately large amount of unhealthy foods, and I realised that if he doesn't eat correctly, (I knew this, but had never experienced it first hand, ie. with MY child..) he turns into a MAJOR pain in the butt.  He cries heaps, is prone to the dreaded tanty, won't sleep, and is just plain old peeved.  That was a great lesson to learn, since I felt a little invincible to the deadly "preservative and sugar overload".. 


Anyway...


That's it from me for a little while... Until next time... :o)


A. xo

Happily ever after!

I'm back.. This time, hopefully with less drama than last time.  :o)

I will apologise to all my readers for a very dramatic blog post...  It shall not be happening again, I pray.  To any who missed it, well, nevermind.  I'm sure there'll be other controversy along the way.  The post in question has been deleted, so you can stop scrolling down looking for it.  It attracted far too much negative attention, even though it wasn't meant to.  So it's gone.

Now for something upbeat, and positive!

My cat has returned!  When we moved, I sent him here with my dad, who looked after him well enough.  Gibby, the cat, decided it was a cool new place to go exploring, but forgot to leave a crumb trail, and subsequently got lost.  It's been almost 3 months since he went missing.  Yup.  3 months...

Yesterday, I got a call from the local RSPCA (animal shelter to all creatures great and small!) and they informed me that they had found my cat!!  So, I went in to see if it was him, and lo and behold, the cat that never dies, the unkillable kitty, was there meowing at me to take him home!

I'm still in shock.  This cat is seriously invincible.  I thought for sure he'd been killed by a car or had tried to trot all the way back to Brisbane with only 3 legs.  You see, Gibby has been hit by cars, or at least wounded by something of the sort, 3 times.  The last time he came home with a broken leg, which is why he only has 3 left.  Mind you, he doesn't seem to notice the lack of a limb.  He's just as quick as he was before (once he got his balance right - that was funny to watch..) and he's just as mean to the neighbourhood dogs.  One woman was walking her dalmation down our street once, when she started screaming out at Gibby to "leave her dog alone".... needless to say, I nearly wet myself laughing at her...

Anyway, back to the story... When he disappeared this time, I just figured he'd used up all 9 lives.  Instead, he managed to stay alive, living on someone's roof 2 blocks away from the place he'd run away from, more than likely scavenging food where he could, including but not limited to birds, I'm sure.  He's a legend.....

So that's pretty cool... my cat who I thought was gone forever, is back.  He's living in the shed for a while, so that he knows this is home and doesn't try to go back to his roof dwelling.  I fear that if he runs away again, I'm not going to pay the $110 to get him out.... OUCH!!  It's almost like you're posting bail for a prisoner....

If you have a pet, particularly a kitty cat, go pat it.  If you don't, go borrow your neighbour's! :o)

Have fun!

A. xo

LATEST NEWS: Mummy's Motivation Lowest in Weeks!

Yup.  That's right.  I'm feeling slack....

Over the last 4 or 5 weeks I've been "dieting" (should be called live-it-ing so it doesn't sound as bad...) and have successfully lost almost 6 kgs.  

>_<  yippeeee!!

I'm stoked, you should know, but I cannot seem to keep up the focus and motivation in the last few days.  I think it's a mixture of really really wanting to eat chocolate, as well as feeling a heck of a lot better about myself.

Perhaps my self image is a little off, but in the opposite to normal direction.  You see, normally, I'd look in the mirror and do a little vomit in my mouth, but lately I feel like a goddess!  I am aware, however, that I am no goddess, but you get what I mean.

I am so pleased with my "new" - technically old - look that I kinda feel like I can stop and enjoy it for a bit.  Problem is, if I know myself the way I think I do, stop too long and I'll not only put the weight back on, but I'll probably keep that stupid distorted self image and think I still look grand once I've stacked it back where it was.

But at least I can eat chocolate >> right??

Where's the commando when I need him?  I'm sure he'd smash me into shape.  Or possibly he'd just make me cry....

Note to self:  Never get fat enough to go on Biggest Loser and be smashed by the commando...  

I think perhaps that's all the motivation I need...

Have a safe break this Easter weekend, and be sure not to over-indulge in life's pleasantries (((such as CHOCOLATE!!)))

A. xo

The baby in the phone.

- Posted from Lola the iPhone

When words just won't do...

- Posted from Lola the iPhone

Grabby Grabberson, from Clingville, Babytown...

I don't know what the heck happened today.  My arms are sore.  I'm happy that Eli is in bed... Garrrr...

Today was "Le Clingy" day.  Eli literally would not let me put him down.  Mum and I spent a good part of the day playing pass the (baby) parcel.  When we both got really really sick of it and plopped him on the floor, he cried so hard, you'd swear we were punishing him.  It was the same cry that he does when I put him in bed and he doesn't want to go, or when I wipe his face to get rid of the food that covers it....  An entirely heart breaking cry!  It was awful.  I figure, though, on days like today, that he mustn't be quite right.  He must be ill.  He could be teething.  Maybe he's just feeling insecure... Cos normally he's not that bad!

No, really... not normally clingy at all... he he he :oP

Anyway... he went to bed tonight without any fussing, just nestled into his lambskin, hugged his Taggie blanket (which I will be reviewing soon...), and sang to himself while he drifted off to sleepy heaven.  It was blissful.  It was the perfect end to an extremely exhausting day.

I lurrrve my baby.... :o)

A. xo

Gimme an M, gimme a U, gimme a CRAM IT, I'LL DO IT MY WAY!

I love my baby.  I would do anything for him.  I would take his pain, and go through it all myself, if I could.  Unfortunately I can't.  When he's in pain, and can't cope, I give him something to help him cope.  Sometimes, it's homeopathic stuff.  Sometimes, it's not.  I would love to think that my baby had only ever had natural things go into his system, but you know what?  I don't feel like a worse mother if he has the odd dose of Nurofen or Panadol, or if I feed him 3 biscuits in one morning.  

I resent the implication by some parents and parenting books, that a mother who is not perfect, is the wrong kind of mother. 

I disagree.  

If your baby laughs, sleeps and isn't losing weight, you're doing O.K.  I respect you, because although you aren't perfect (and let's face it, who is??) you are a great mum who is doing her best.  Don't believe the hype.  While routines and wonderful-ness are really great for keeping things in order, they are not a mandatory part of parenting.  If you don't follow what the books say, you are still going to enjoy your baby's life.  You may not have a great time all of the time, and yes, you may encounter the odd problem here and there, but if you are consistent and practice disciplined parenting (the kind where your kid doesn't run rings around you and therefor turn into a heinous blotch on human society...) you will be FINE!!  

I was soooo one of those people who judged other mums before I had kids.  I thought it was pretty straight forward - you smack for bad behaviour, praise for good, and give lots and lots of kisses and cuddles and you're set.  Oh, and don't forget to feed them food, and give them plenty of liquids... :o)  I was kinda right, but mostly wrong.  While smacks can be good for bad behaviour, it's not always totally clear when something is bad behaviour.  It's like, one day, they do something "naughty", but they don't get that what they did was wrong - so you don't smack, you just distract them.  All of a sudden, one day, they get it, and they're doing it because it's naughty.  Before you know it, they're a brat and you've not disciplined them!  There is hope, though, once you realise that fact.

Since Eli was born, actually prior to his birth, I read about what was the "right" thing, and what was the "wrong" thing as far as birth, pregnancy - diet and exercise, newborn care, breast feeding, sleeping and naps, feeding solids etc etc etc.  The list continues on and on and on.  I can safely say that all these books have done for me is made me even more nervous about doing it wrong.  The fact is, you buy books and ask for advice so that you are clearer on how to do what you're planning to do, not so that you can be criticised for doing things a different way to them.  

I think I should write an advice book - not one with plans and routines and instructions, but perhaps a book full of advice from mums that have gone wrong or made a mistake somewhere along the line and learned heaps from it.  There's so much more value in that than there is an instruction manual....

Peace out mummies, and know that you're AWESOME!  :o)

A. xo

Too much?

It appears that my opinion is a bit much for some to handle.. so perhaps I will return to what I know - babies, life and parenthood.

I'm sure I'll find controversy somewhere in that to write about, but for now, I'll keep my opinions to myself for a tiny while... haha

What I'd really like to do is a "Reviews" blog - where I review stuff for people on my blog, and of course, you as my audience would LOVE my reviews, refer them to your friends and take what I say for gospel!  How does that sound??

Click here:  http://redroomreport.blogspot.com/

Talk soon.....

A. xo

Feminism? Or stupid...

I don't know what your thoughts are on Feminism.  I'm not scared of that word, as some would infer.  I'm also not under the spell of it's apparent appeal.  I believe that women have a role - a really really important role - to play in the world.  They are mothers, wives, daughters, sisters -- and BFF's.  :)

Some mums/wives are really hard workers, climbing the ladder of success, popping their kiddies in day care and racing off to save the world with bank notes.  Other mums are also really hard workers, cleaning homes (perhaps not only their own), cooking meals, being personal chauffeur to a horde of tiny people, washing and patching clothing, kissing better the hurtie bits, shopping for food etc etc etc and still finding energy at the end of a hectic day to be a lover and a wife.

I'm not going to tell you that one is better than the other, but I think you can tell my point of view...

My question is this:  If you get paid what a man gets paid, does that make you the same as a man?  If you can get jobs that a man can get, does that make you the same as a man?  If you can speak out and be heard as an individual, does that make you the same as a man?  Why do we, as women, want to be like men?

I for one want a man to treat me as a woman, not as another man.  I want doors opened for me.  I want my honour defended.  I want help carrying heavy items - especially if I am pregnant or elderly.  I want a man to give up their seat for me.  I want these things because I work damned hard as a woman - a wife, a mother, a daughter and a sister, and I deserve to be treated with respect from a man.  I don't want to be expected to work like a man.  I'm not a man, I'm a woman.  I am a "weaker vessel" in that I was not made to be as physically strong as a man.  I do not think like a man.  I do not talk like a man.  I do not wish to BE a man.

So what is it that we are going to gain from apparent "equality"?  I say apparent, because you cannot possibly be that deluded that you could imagine we as women will ever really be equal to men - whether society feels we are or not.  That's not to say that a man is better - although by striving for pseudo equality, we are in fact suggesting that being a man is superior in some way...

If you look back at history, back at the actual discrimination against women, you can acknowledge that "women" as a sector of society have a certain freedom now that was not afforded them in the early days.  I appreciate that we have those freedoms because of women who were prepared to fight for them.  Thank you to those women.  But really, how far will this fight go?  If you want to talk about when "enough is enough", isn't this ENOUGH?  What more do you want?  At least back then women were respected enough to be taken care of.  Now, all you hear is women complaining that they don't get the same recognition in the workplace.  The real issue, if you ask me, is if we should A) be wanting to work the same jobs and the same hours, and B) be there in the first place...  I don't want to work 50 hours a week - that's what my man does, for me.  And he feels like a more accomplished, more successful man because of it.  This means that we have clear cut roles in our marriage, that being I am the WOMAN, and he is the MAN - I am the delicate flower and he is the big strong cave man taking care of me.  I'm OK with that - and I think all women should on some level accept their place, not in a "sit down and shut up" kind of way, but a genuine respect for what our men are prepared to do for us out of love and adoration, and an inner peace about what we also bring to the table even if it isn't money.

I read April's blog today, and she was talking about men breastfeeding, and if they did, the world would be set up to accommodate them in every area of life - work, public, transportation, accessibility etc.  That may be true, but let's look at that statement and really think for a second.

Think about it.

Keep thinking.

Here's what I came up with:

MEN CAN'T BREAST FEED!!!!!  HA!  SUCK IT!  We are the ONLY ones who can!!!!!  Therefor, the question, accompanied by the speculation, is null and void.

I firmly believe that by continuing to press for further (imagined) "equality" will only further damage the family unit.  It will rip mums away from their families, emasculate husbands and deter any remaining knights in shining armour from being chivalrous in any way shape or form - meaning that when I am pregnant, I won't be receiving help from a man, for fear of him being reprimanded for treating me as a lesser person than him.  When I am elderly, I won't be offered a seat by a man who is sitting, because he doesn't want to look like a jacka$$ in front of the people around him.  And who knows, maybe in the future, maternity leave will be taken away, and so will parenting payments because women and men, are expected to work as "equals"...

As the saying goes, you can't have your cake and eat it too.  We are confusing the masses with our stupid notions of equality.  Sure, some things needed to change, and some things possibly could be done better.  But instead of rallying for equality, why not rally for restored family life, proper education and well behaved children?  Why not rally for reduced living costs so that those women whose wish is to be with their families don't have to go out and work 2 jobs?  Why not fight for something that can realistically be achieved?

If you want to waste your time and pretend you know what you're asking for - go ahead.  Join the feminists...

A. xo

I don't like boobies on display!

READ THIS:::
http://eclecticeffervescence.blogspot.com/2010/03/offense.html?spref=fb

Before I go off on my rant, I agree with the sentiments written in the above blog post (re: Facebook's retarded view of "sexualised").

Now, hear what I have to say about all of this rubbish.

I do not see it as necessary to post NAKED women up in a public forum -- a naked breast is a naked breast, no matter if a baby is feeding from them or if they are airbrushed and put into a pornographic magazine.

I just perused a site (www.tera.ca) which prides itself on fighting for the underdog (GOOD FOR YOU!!) and they have un/fortuantely listed photos that have been deleted by Facebook and criticised by other various entities.  I felt that half of those pictures WERE offensive simply because of a failure to cover up - not because they were feeding their babies/toddlers.  Others were models posing with babies - which is clearly highly inappropriate.

Having said that, I can understand some mummies are so proud to be feeding their little ones that they feel a need to show off their happy snaps.  That's cool.. I get that.  If those happy snaps are of your bare naked chest, one boob out and the other occupied by a wee one - NOT OK.  You are showing more than I or anyone else should be seeing.  I'm not offended - I just find it distasteful to be nude in public no matter what your reasons.

I don't think breast feeding is obscene.  I think it's wonderful.  I do, however, find it obscene to flash my boobs out in public, considering all the great new products you can buy (for cheap!!) that make discreet breast feeding very easy.  Try this site......

www.kisskisshughug.com.au

As for April, whose blog I was inspired by, I understand why you've posted your photo.  I also don't find it offensive simply because it's not of you half naked.  It's of you feeding, and I can see that this is an amazing moment for you.  I think it's a personal moment for you and your family, but I am certainly not offended by you posting it.

For the record, I breastfed, and I will again.

I think it's best if I clarify one more time.... I don't DISAGREE with those who take issue with Facebook deleting breast feeding pictures - I just feel there are very important factors they fail to recognise here.

That is all.

A. xo

My Green Nappy

It sounds as though I'm going to launch into another discussion about poop, but alas, I'm not.  

I have only just discovered something that many have already been enjoying - and that is a site called MyGreenNappy.org.  Read on for some info...

Introducing MyGreenNappy.org

My Green Nappy: Do YOU have one?

My Green Nappy is a simple environmental initiative encouraging all families to have one green nappy for their baby to wear. Yes, ONE will make a difference! It will prevent 1 disposable nappy from ending up in landfill each time it is worn by your baby. How simple is that?

My Green Nappy is a nappy nexus for parents in Australia and New Zealand: a collective of all shops offering modern cloth nappies and eco disposables- the environmentally friendly, ‘green nappy’ choices. From expert advice by ‘Your Nappy Doula’s’ to the latest ‘Mini Trends in Modern Cloth’, and the unique ‘My Green Nappy Guide’, you will be accessing the collective wisdom of the cloth nappy world. You’ll be kept ‘in the loop’ about all things ‘green’ and ‘nappy’ as they apply to families down under.

Isn't that the COOLEST idea you've heard in ages??  I thought it was.  SO, what I want you all to do is head to the site, look around, and even if you're not an Aussie, sign up as a member!!  Make sure you mention that I referred you by putting my blog address in the "referred by" box.  =)   This way, Charndra, the creator of the website, will feel the love and keep fighting the fine fight!  

By the way, I demonstrate Baby BeeHinds cloth nappies, which are not only good for the environment when you use them, but are MADE green and all the people involved in their production are intent on saving the world, one small good deed at a time.  So, if you're after the "green allrounder", these are the ones for you!  (Not to mention they really work!!!)

I'd also love you to comment and tell me about your opinion of the green nappy movement - good or bad!


A. xo

Milkies go bye bye!

Well.  That settles it.  The paperwork is in order, my retirement package settled.  I have done my work as a dairy cow, and am happy/sad to say that I am no longer needed in that department.  Eli is fully weaned - at 10 months.

I didn't do this intentionally - it kinda just happened.  All of a sudden he started eating tons of food, and stopped crying for feeds.  Then only in the last few weeks, I stopped going in to him at night when he cried - not only did he stop feeding over night, he also stopped crying for me.  He sleeps for 10-12 hours straight now....

While I'm super stoked about his new love of sleeping, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the cessation of feeding him.  I mean, I'm happy to be "free" of the ritual, in the sense that now, I get a full night's sleep (if you count 5 a.m wake ups as full) and if I had to leave him with someone, he's not going to need a bottle.  However, this really does draw the curtains on that section of my life (for now - til the next one comes along..) as well as his life.  I find myself with mixed feelings about that.  I don't nurse him to sleep anymore, so I don't get to sit and look at his beautiful face while he sleeps... that's something I'll miss a lot.

There's another aspect of this too that I find niggles at my mind.  Previously, whenever I couldn't settle him for whatever reason, or if he was in pain, I would show him that I loved him by giving him his most favourite thing in the world... and I felt like a good mum.  Now, if I can't settle him, or he's in pain, the best I can do is kisses and cuddles.  Sometimes, it just feels like that's not enough.  Like I'm not a "magical" mum, whose kisses and cuddles could cure the most horrible things, especially my baby's crying.

I didn't know how I was going to feel about it.  I suspected I'd just be happy about it - since I didn't really think it was my favourite thing in the world.  I didn't dislike it, I just couldn't gush about it like it's the most incredible thing I could ever experience as a mother.  There are plenty of other awesome things I experience every day that are easily in line with breast feeding.  I'm glad I did it, and I will do it again.  Who knows, maybe the next baby will feed longer.  Maybe not?

If you've not done it yet and are planning on it (comment is restricted to women for obvious reasons...) or if you're doing it currently and are not finding it as wonderful and amazing as you were told it would be, don't stress.  It's not like that for everyone...  It wasn't like that for me!

But I still really did enjoy it - in my own way... :o)

A. xo

Ooohhhhh-K ... I'm back on the bandwagon again!

I know it appears that I fell of the side of the planet, but thankfully, I clambered back up and am now in the land of the living... the criteria for which is "having access to the internet".


I have surprisingly little to say just now, however, except that my baby has been sick, I have started the long journey of my business - starting with becoming a Baby BeeHinds nappy consultant, and I love my new home (except for the fact that Roland is only here on the weekends) .. :( .. 


I understand that this could be classified as "disappointing" to any hard core readers - but I presume the hard core ones got bored some time last month when I ceased writing....


Anyway, I do plan on posting something profound in the coming days/weeks, so stay tuned, and thanks for reading!!


A. xo

Almost done!

Well -- we got here.  All of our junk has been moved from Nundah to Kingaroy... Only thing is that it's all in the shed of the new place.  Ugh.  Apparently the cleaners that were hired to clean the house were:
A) trying to clean an extremely dirty home, and B) incompetent.

Let me clear it up for you.  The floors were dirty and dusty.  The carpets still had marks on them.  The grout in the bathrooms was filthy.  The mirrors - smeary.  The walls had red dirt splatter from the floor around the skirting boards.  The yard is littered with debris including dog poo and cigarette butts.

Now, I don't think I need to tell you that this is not clean.  The cleaner (NB:  Freshwater Carpet Cleaners of Kingaroy - more specifically "Darren") charged some ridiculous amount upwards of $700 to clean it to this standard, which I am personally mortified with. Luckily we have an excellent agent who is fantastic at her job.  The downside of her being so excellent is that we still haven't been able to move in, and won't be able to until all is rectified.  I guess I'd still rather that than clean it myself..... :o/

Once everything's clean and set up I will post some pictures for all to see!  I actually do really really like the house, if only it were clean... :o)

Anyway.... After such an enormous weekend, I'm exhausted, and haven't been able to sleep for all the excitement.  So off I go, in a last ditch attempt to get some sleep before my baby wakes up for the however many-eth time tonight....

Love and hugs to all my friends who I'm missing like crazy already...

A. xo

Piccie time!

- Posted from Lola the iPhone

Sleep? What's that?

I don't know what's happened.  I gave birth to an angel.  Sure, he had some reflux - nothing too serious, some gas which upset him a little as well - but these only lasted 6 weeks or so.  After that, my little man slept for hours straight.  Had 3 good naps in a day.  Didn't wake me unless he was really in need.  I loved that baby.

Then teething "happened".  It ruined my baby for some time - about 4 months...  Until just recently (the last 2 months or so) in which time it seemed like my little angel from long ago had returned!  Systematically, we changed 3 naps to 2.. and he slept.  He slept anywhere from 5 to 8 hours every night.  This seemed like bliss.  Heaven.  I thought things were finally looking up for us.

Nope.  Not so.

Lately, the last week or two, the devil child has returned -- with a vengeance.  Eli wakes roughly every 2-4 hours each night, only sleeping longer if it truly suits him.  What I don't get is what I'm doing wrong!  Have I failed in some way, changed a vital technique, that has once again stuffed the sleeping patterns?  I can't figure it out.  He's not hungry - he's practically weaned himself, as he no longer looks for breast feeds during the day.  He might be thirsty, but doesn't want anything but milk.  He's not cold or hot.  I make sure of that.  He's not sick.  Not in pain (thanks to the odd Nurofen dosage here and there).  He's not naughty - at least, I don't think he is... And his nappy is not soiled.  WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME CHILD???

I lost the plot this morning.  I have never felt so much like throwing him down the stairs.

(Please note, that while I may have felt like it, I would NEVER do it...)

Anyway, so he'd woken up about 4 times overnight.  8.30pm, 10.30pm, 12.30am, 4.45am -- and then chose foolishly not to go back to sleep.  I literally took him down stairs, placed him in the centre of his play pen and walked away.  I would have been happy to leave him there too.  He was sobbing.  He knew he'd been banished.  Then my lovely mum - who has been staying with us this week helping me pack up the house - went down and saved him.  I was really upset.  Crying.  Hysterically swearing and sprouting off at this poor baby who started laughing at me.  No, scratch that.  Giggling.  It's hard not to love them when they giggle.  But when you're having a break down - it's hard not to choke them....

Needless to say, all is well again.  We actually had a fabulous day, Eli was great, and we got heaps done.  Partially thanks to my husband, who looked after Eli from 7am til 9am while mum and I caught up on our sleep.  A special mention also to my dad, who had a great time entertaining Eli in the garden for the afternoon.

I guess I've learned one thing from today.

Don't fight it.

Don't let the little things get the better of you.  Don't think you can control your baby - you can't.  Don't lose your cool and miss out on the enjoyment of parenthood.  Easier said than done... but easier to do than to regret.

I'll leave you with that thought, and I'm going to bed... in case Eli wakes up for the third time tonight...

:o)

A. xo

A NOVEL idea!

I am writing a book... a novel, yes.  What I'd like to do is post a chapter and get some honest feedback.  You know, tell me if you enjoyed it, what you think is going to happen, the kind of picture it paints in your mind.... that sort of thing.  Keep it short if you like, or long if that's what you want to do -- I'll take everything into consideration! :o)

Thanks!!!

PS - Sorry, it's long, but it's one of my favourite chapters...

A. xo

SUNNY DAYS IN A TIN BOAT - Written by Amy Wouters

CHAPTER TWO

Charles Oakes, or ‘Charlie’ as he was affectionately known, loved to play the piano.  His long fingers seemed to glide over the keys, almost as if he were controlling them like a puppet from somewhere obscure.  When he played, his face donned a childish grin and no one in the vicinity was immune to the joy it engendered.  Many an eve was spent huddled around the piano singing along to old favourites.  Their farmhouse was a little rickety.  Not decrepit, but the earth had moved beneath it just enough to create passageway for the cool night air to creep in and circle around unsuspecting toes.  The Oakes’ had lived there for almost fourteen years now.  Charles had purchased it cheaply from a friend of his father’s before he and Johanna had been married.  It was to be their family home, starting out with Johanna and Charles, and then expanding merrily with two new members - first Asher and then, only a year later, Charlotte.

The driveway to the house was lined with Jacaranda trees, creating a canopy of purple in the spring and later on a beautiful carpet of blossoms to welcome them home whenever they would venture beyond the borders of their harmonic lives.  Decorated in vintage green, the railing of the home’s enormous front verandah framed the portrait of cream exterior and rustic red trimmings.  The red roof was like a cherry on top of a pile delicious dessert.  From one of the old Gum’s in their garden hung a dirty old black tire, which always harboured critters of every kind, who would find the darkest places to hide.  Sometimes, after a downpour, the children would gleefully jump aboard only to find their shorts soaked through with water that had had no escape.  It was a wonder to them what kept them coming back!  Nonetheless, as surely as kids will be kids, daily they would return, armed with laughter and jubilation.  

Their lives together had always seemed magical.  Charles and Johanna loved each other with a sincerity that prickled the back of Charlotte’s eyes with hidden tears, making a very happy moment appear sad.  As a family, they rarely spoke crossly to one another, having a genuine reverence for what existed among them, which they all admitted silently was not common in every family.  

When Charles had died at forty-six from a heart attack, it had shaken them to their core.  Johanna retreated, endlessly crying, hardly having the energy to cook her children a meal, but after only a short while bravely collected herself and strode on despite the agony that lay deep in her heart.  Asher, Charlotte’s brother shrunk to a shadow of the man he was becoming.  He was eleven.  It was the time in his life when he should have learnt to drive the farm truck, built chicken coups and swung from thick ropes tied to tree branches hanging over the large swimming hole in the far paddock.  But for Asher, the news of his father’s death became like a burden to him, becoming quiet and sullen.  As if being happy might somehow be disrespectful of a father that loved and cherished his family so earnestly.  With him, it had seemed, everything was possible, but now, all that remained were questions.  For Charlotte, however, her father’s death, although tragic, appeared to leave her numb and emotionless.  Nobody knew that in solitude, she cried herself to sleep, until, she could swear, all her tears were dried up.  She had vehemently yearned for her father’s warm, commanding voice.   As a ten year-old she had somehow imagined that keeping her grief trapped inside of her like air in an over-full balloon was the best course of action to take for all concerned. ‘Mum has enough to worry about, least of all me’, she had reasoned.

Their lives had changed.  No longer were they the close knit little bundle they had once been.  Something was missing now, and no matter what, it could not be replaced.  The children had found their father laying, dead, in one of the stables, gate open, horse gone.  Charles was a veteran trainer, and, in his almost thirty years, had never had any difficulty with the temperamental stallions he broke in.  They were his ‘comrades’, he once said.  He’d trully had a way with them.  The sun was less cheerful that day.  The police had swarmed their open fields like vultures, and the ambulance had come, placed him roughly on a stretcher, zipped a heavy, black cover around him and took him away.  The vision of which would haunt his family forever.  The police had  determined then and there that there would be no investigation because it was, as the Sergeant had insensitively put it, a “pretty run of the mill” heart attack.  Although, to his loved ones, there was absolutely nothing run of the mill about it.

Everyone in their small community had mourned Charlie’s death.  He was well known and well loved as the man who was always ready to help a friend in need.  It had occasionally taken him away from his family, but they understood that it was his way of feeling useful.  If he could still assist someone he would never be obsolete, that was his theory, anyway.  The only person that seemed not to like Charles was his own brother, Aaron Oakes.  There tended to be contention between the brothers.  It wasn’t always obvious to onlookers, but Charlotte, Asher and their Mother could sense the underlying bitterness their Uncle had for their Father.  No one really knew why, and if they did, they never spoke of it.  As far as their Mother knew that was how it had always been, so she could shed no further light on the subject.  Whatever it was, it was unnerving, ticking loudly like a time bomb in thickened silences.  If anyone ever expressed their concern, Charles had always dismissed the obvious disquiet of their volatile relationship, saying that no matter what, Aaron was his brother.  Most of the time, that would dissolve the laconic conversation, so they left it alone.  

They didn’t see much of Uncle Aaron after Charles’ death.  It was as if his hatred of Charles extended to his family.  He would never visit, never write and never call.  The last time any of the family had seen him was at Charles’ funeral.  Johanna had been hurt by the lack of interest in her family’s well-being, from the only surviving member of Charles’ family.  Neither Charlotte nor Asher could ever imagine feeling such passionate distaste for each other.  Indifference was antonymous with what their father had stood for.  But with each passing year after his death, the Oakes’ felt less and less like the family they had been, and more and more like strangers in the same house.  There were more shadows than before in their previously sunlit home.  Cold was colder, dark was darker, and sadness was the deepest place they had ever known.    

***

Charlotte groaned as she climbed the final stair leading to the apartment.  She’d been walking through the park and decided to stop under the shade of a beautifully leafy green tree to read her latest book borrowed from the library.  The only reason she’d decided to go home was because daylight was getting scarce.  Shoving the door open with all the force she could be bothered to muster, she stumbled inside and dropped her bag on the floor near the dining table.  Taking off her hat, of which no one was a true fan, including herself, she glanced at her mobile phone.  Excitingly, there was a new text message.  She fleetingly wondered who it might be, secretly hoping it was Caprice.  She was missing her company since the wedding.  Opening the message she read:

“Hi honey!  I’m home from work for the day... Would love to catch up with you, maybe tonight?  Call me! xx”

It had been at least a month since they’d had some girly time, and she was sure Roman wouldn’t mind, so she punched the number into the phone.

“Hey you!”, came the answer.

“Hey slacker!  What are you doing home?” prodded Charlotte.

“It’s Friday Charls...”, was her explanation, which really meant “I’m ditching work.”  “Are you sick of sitting around in your palace princess?  Wanna go out tonight?”  There was a definite tone of loving mockery in Caprice’s voice.

“You’re just jealous, and yes I do feel like getting out.  But you’ll have to give me a little bit of time to cook something for tonight so Roman doesn’t go hungry, because we both know that if I don’t cook for him he’ll probably boil an egg and call it dinner.”

“Ha, that’s right!  He’s so adorable”, she said, distracted now.  She had a short attention span.  “Ok, take your time and cook the man something and I’ll tell Lewis he’s going to yours for his feed tonight.”  

“Brilliant.  See you in an hour and a half or so, right?”

“Done.  See you at  6:30,” emphasised Caprice, as if tattooing the numbers in her own mind more than anything.  

“Ah, planning on being on time this time are you Pri?”, taunted Charlotte.

“Shut up cow,” laughed Caprice.  “See you soon!  Drive safe, mwa!”

“Can’t wait!  Ciao!”

Clapping the phone shut, Charlotte got straight into cooking.  Deciding to whip up a chicken pie and mashed potatoes, she hurried to the fridge and removed the items she would need.  Roman loved chicken pie, so it would be an excellent peace offering for leaving him home with Lewis all night.  The two of them got along, quite well in fact, but even though Roman would be fine with Charlotte going out tonight, he still would have preferred to be with her than Lewis.  Charlotte smiled to herself at how well she knew Roman, and perhaps how simple it had become over the years to manipulate him just a little bit.  As soon as the pie was assembled, Charlotte threw it into the oven to brown and turned on the potatoes.  Leaving them, she went to search through her over-full cupboards and find something that wasn’t dowdy to wear.  Finally, she settled on a red and white strapless dress and a matching red shrug.  She showered, almost too briefly to get wet, and raced quickly to slather a forgiving layer of makeup on her smooth face.  Wielding her hair straightener, she curled her long dark hair and put it into a ponytail on top of her head.  She checked herself over and decided she needed some accessorising.  Just as she clasped a red glass bead necklace around her slender neck, the door opened, revealing her husband with mail between his teeth, keys stuck in the lock and arms juggling more bags than she remembered him taking to work with him.

“Hey,” he muffled, his tongue trying to dodge the letters stuffed into his mouth.

“Aw, honey!  You need a hand?”

Laughing, Charlotte ran over to him and took the mail between her thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the sloppy section in the middle where Roman had involuntarily salivated on the envelopes.  

“Ugh, it’s been one heck of a day,” he groaned.  He looked up and paused, eyes wide with curiosity when he saw Charlotte.  She blinked back at him, smiling radiantly.  “You look fantastic, are you going somewhere?”

“Well, Pri asked me to go out with her tonight for some dancing and drinks, so I’ve cooked you a chicken pie and there’s potatoes on the stove.”  As she spoke, she skipped into the kitchen, showing her childlike delight, and pointed to the different appliances he would have to make contact with, explaining carefully how they were to be used.  Roman’s eyes glazed over, not concentrating.  She spotted him stifling a yawn.  “Are you listening to me?’

“Yes,” he said, and forced a grimace, eyes still off the the side not focussing on anything in particular.  “That’s great honey.”

“Roman, just another second or two of thinking, I promise.”  She paused for a moment and continued to cover the main points of her kitchen seminar, keeping one eye on him in an attempt to meet his gaze.  When she realised he still wasn’t paying attention, she walked over to him and put her arms around his waist.  “I also said it would be OK for Lewis to come and spend the evening with you, so there’s enough for two, understand?  You can’t eat it all.”

“I understand.  It’s a shame though, I was kind of hoping to spend tonight together.”  He pouted, immaturely.  “Will you be late?”

“Probably, but don’t worry, we have nothing planned for tomorrow, so we can catch up then.  How’s that?  I promise to be all yours.  Maybe we should do a brunch picnic - since we both know I’ll be sleeping through breakfast.”  

She said it so sweetly, Roman couldn’t resist her.  So he nodded and kissed her in a way that informed her of how trully self sacrificing he felt he was being.  He secretly hoped it would make her change her mind about going out.  The blackmail, although tempting, had failed.  She knew his games and so rarely fell for them, except  on the odd occasion when she felt sorry for him. She eyeballed him humourously.  “I love you,” she cooed.  He was tall and strong, she loved that she felt so small in his arms.  Nestling her head into his chest she closed her eyes and breathed him in.  He smelled like hot chocolate and aftershave.

“I love you too,” he said, and rubbed the cold tip of his nose on her velvety, pink cheek.  “Thanks for making us dinner, Lewis and I will get rid of it in no time!   It smells fantastic!”  He drew in an exaggerated breath through his flared nostrils, and grinned cheekily.  “So when are you off my love?”

“As soon as I put my shoes on.”

“Well, I guess you better go get them on.”  He narrowed his eyes pensively and examined her, noticing how pretty she looked when she was trully happy.  Charlotte nodded and skipped off back into the bedroom .  Roman could hear her grunting and cursing under her breath, looking for the elusive footwear.  He pictured shoes flying across the room and landing all over the floor, threatening to knock over any number of breakable items.  He knew she had found what she’d been looking for when the noises abated.  All of a sudden Charlotte appeared at the doorway and made a model pout with her rosebud lips.  

“What do you think?”, she begged, posing for him against the wall.

“Gorgeous.  Make sure you keep your wedding rings on Mrs Sutherland.”

“I will, Mr Sutherland.  Don’t you worry, no one would be interested in an old married woman anyway.”  She was serious, but smiled nonetheless.

“Have a great time.  Say hi to Caprice for me will you?”

“I will honey.  Thank you.”

They kissed, Charlotte looked at her watch, cursed, picked up her bag and keys, and in an instant, she was out the door.  Free like a bird that had never been out of it’s cage, thought Roman.  He looked around the kitchen and realised he should have been listening to Charlotte when she had explained the workings of the appliances to him.  Suddenly, the door flung open again and Charlotte hurriedly raced into the bedroom.  “I forgot my earrings!” she bellowed.  Emerging like a butterfly, she was still fixing her hoops into the holes in her ears.  With a kiss into the air, again, she was gone.  “Yup, see ya,” he sighed out loud, concluding that he was indeed going to have to figure it all out for himself.  He investigated the stove and oven for clues of their operational secrets which only women seemed to be privy to.  Opening the oven, he put on an ‘oven mitt’ and reached in to retrieve the golden pie.  He rested it on a wooden chopping board and directed his attention to the potatoes.  Finally, when he’d mashed the potatoes with a fork, he reached for his phone and called Lewis.  

“Hey mate, how long are you gonna be?  I’ve cooked you a pie and mash!” lied Roman.

“Yeah, right, brother.  How about you buzz me in and we can get started on it, eh?  I was just about to press it, but was interrupted by some digger on the phone!” retorted Lewis.

“Come on up then buddy!”  He couldn’t hide his excitement at the prospect of company. 

Roman pressed the buzzer and the door clicked open at the bottom of the stairs.  Lewis leaned on the heavy glass, forcing the weight of his beefy torso to shove it ajar and trundled up the stairs, lugging two six packs of beer and several snack food bags, along with a recorded copy of a football game they’d both missed earlier in the week.  He stood at the top of the stairs displaying his offerings.  Roman looked at the alcohol, gave him a wide eyed look; surprise, then excitement and  lastly mutual understanding travelling across his face.  He wasn’t much of a drinker, but decided tonight was as good of a night as any to let loose.  “Well,” he said with a shrug and a smirk, “while the cats are away..”

If you want to read the rest, you'll have to encourage me to finish... :o)