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)

Blah blah blah real estate blah blah

As you'd be aware, if you're a regular reader, we're trying to get a rental home in Kingaroy - cos we're MOVING!!  Yay!!

Blahhh... 

I hate moving.  I usually don't stress too much, but this time, I can't seem to handle it at all.  You see, we've done 2 applications so far (that's one more than I've ever had to do at one time..).  The first house, we missed out on by a stupid day.  I mistakenly thought that there'd be no one out there silly enough to move at christmas time.... nope.  Wrong.

Anyway, we then applied for house number 2.  This one, I have fallen deeply in love with.  It's pretty... new, has a deck and a view, and is a pretty good price.  The real estate approved us, and forwarded our application to the owners, who flat out rejected us!!  They didn't even give a reason (although I have a pretty good idea what it was they didn't want.)

Sooo.... I have been scrambling with all the different parties involved: my real estate and the other real estate, trying to plead with them and give them a good enough reason not to reject us.  Basically, we could call it "begging", but not quite as lame.  You should know, though, that I'm just as happy to beg...

Now I'm just waiting for the lovely girl at Ray White Kingaroy to get back to us with some (hopefully) positive news...

I'm already soooo over this.  Anyway, wish us luck, ok?

A. xo

Ruffles, sequins, lace and flowers

Yesterday was the day.  It was a blowy January afternoon on the beach at the Gold Coast.  The sun was out to play, but the clouds held back it's blaze.  There was a man, in a suit, preparing a table with a white tablecloth at the end of the boardwalk, where bench seats lined the small square area overlooking the waves.

Another man in a suit came around the bend and approached the other man.  They shook hands, greeted, and discussed positioning for the events to follow.  There were other people starting to mill around, family of the second man, friends wanting to share in the festivities.  I stayed off to the side, watching quietly, waiting patiently for the lady of the hour.  I'd know who she was, she'd be wearing ruffles, sequins, lace and flowers.

It wasn't long, and there appeared before my eyes an astonishingly beautiful lady.  She was everything I had expected, adorned beautifully for the man in the suit.  A woman with a camera darted around in front of her as she walked carefully in her heels - which were getting stuck in the gaps of the boardwalk. She smiled.  A big, excited smile.  What was about to happen was clearly the most wonderful thing in her life.  I watched, silently, tearfully.

They said words, loving, heartfelt words, binding them together for always.  They kissed, their first kiss as partners for eternity.  The crowd smiled and clapped, congratulating them.  I watched, outside the crowd, wishing I was standing beside her, congratulating her too.

The woman with the camera huddled the small crowd together to catch the moment in a photograph.  Everyone smiled and said 'cheese', waved their arms in the air, the man and woman kissed.  I just watched, knowing I was not a part of that photograph, I was not a part of this memory.

The beautiful lady in the beautiful dress - no longer on her own.  Never again should she feel that no one loves her.  Never again should she fall into the traps of loneliness.  Never again will she wake up and wonder whether today will be her day to shine.  That day had come.  And boy, oh boy, did she shine.

I'm Back!

Hello!!  I've missed this place .... It feels like it's been an eternity since I last posted.  Never fear!  I'm back, and I'm not 5kg's heavier.. (contrary to expectations!)

I unfortunately, have nothing amazing to report - I spent the week and a bit with my loving family, in the pool, eating my little heart out, and I had fun!  My son learned to swim, to crawl and to drink properly from a sippy cup, all while we were away, which was really cool.   Today, he's figured out how to say 'mum', and did so allllll daaaaaayyyy.... it was very cute.

Anyway, I'll update you better with a post during the day, it's late now, and I should go to bed I feel......

Lots of love to you all!

A. xo