tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42184042776342409402024-02-06T19:50:38.177-08:00Poppies for MeJohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-86525231031940655512014-06-05T03:46:00.001-07:002014-06-05T03:59:37.132-07:00Competition: Did you hear a roar... A stomp? The dinosaurs are coming
to town.<p><span style="font-weight: 700; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-weight: 700; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DzjfqFRaKb-KuJ0OWdAi4BNkvwrBzZIQ08q42hnZc_XK5kUK_Kx7VeL8y1XKMdv3FyoXwZGoGqdnjY63vIuiE-MPlji9cbga5oOOxyGOcOUhrhVe9Ln1qFHjHDKn8KQiB1PR80pPobav/s640/blogger-image--1644611135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0DzjfqFRaKb-KuJ0OWdAi4BNkvwrBzZIQ08q42hnZc_XK5kUK_Kx7VeL8y1XKMdv3FyoXwZGoGqdnjY63vIuiE-MPlji9cbga5oOOxyGOcOUhrhVe9Ln1qFHjHDKn8KQiB1PR80pPobav/s640/blogger-image--1644611135.jpg"></a></div><p><span style="font-weight: 700; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">DINOSAURS HAVE TAKEN OVER MELBOURNE!</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Do you have a little budding palaeontologist on your hands. An adventurer who loves dinosaurs and all things prehistoric? If yes, then this competition is for you!</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We have a family pass to give away for the Exclusive VIP Opening Night of Dinosaur Adventures on <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0">Friday 20 June, 6:30</a>. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Dinosaur Adventures is an exhibition that is captivating young and old alike. And it's coming to Melbourne. </span></p><p><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Explore a prehistoric world full of life-size moving dinosaurs and be amazed and thrilled as the greatest creatures ever to walk the earth, return and come alive right before your eyes.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Marvel at the story of their 200 million year domination of life on earth. Watch them move<span style="font-weight: 700;">. </span>Hear the roar. From the ripple of their skin to the glint in their eye, you will think that the dinosaurs really are back</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Apart from this amazing animatronics show, you will be able to become a Paleontologist for the day. Children will be provided their ‘experts digger outfit’ and chip away at their very own fossil. Plus there will be many more dinosaur activities to take part in including dinosaur sand art, dinosaur library, fossil displays, dinosaur inflatable activity land, dinosaur sand pit, photographic souvenirs inside a life sized dinosaur egg and so much more.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Pegged as a must-see these School Holidays, Dinosaur Adventures is set to bring back all the wonder and excitement of the prehistoric world of dinosaurs.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-weight: bold; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">These life-size creatures will be taking over Caulfield Racecourse this June and July.</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Get ready to be thrilled as you see the Triassic period come to life! </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">And get excited as we have a family pass (2 adults, 2 children) to give away for the </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> Exclusive VIP Opening Night of Dinosaur Adventures on </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Friday 20 June, 6:30pm</a></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Just email your name to: poppiesforme@gmail.com to be in the running. The competition closes Sunday 15th June. Quick, enter now for your chance to win a great adventure! </span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">For more information, check out www.dinosauradventures.com.au</span></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><p></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G6zKq3pj5ThjUtW5HSqIbFQWKEyb61UOKOID8RvwURkDv1rjsB3mWKoMEc9k_lYPS_c9EQp7sVPHeZsei0WfFsxg5y7O8xdcKVBZZPrINVcqy0Fy3UOKPTKPSA_IxtjsoFG-HuDnIL9q/s640/blogger-image-1224490055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G6zKq3pj5ThjUtW5HSqIbFQWKEyb61UOKOID8RvwURkDv1rjsB3mWKoMEc9k_lYPS_c9EQp7sVPHeZsei0WfFsxg5y7O8xdcKVBZZPrINVcqy0Fy3UOKPTKPSA_IxtjsoFG-HuDnIL9q/s640/blogger-image-1224490055.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadsaaHlusEOEFWdcAA7N8to_2LyHI5u1J_gQeIui4MWgAz3QnfufcmtyhDFb7wnep4Q8-FyFUMRpwdjpJ21pv1zkOVl3MDPxyf5u2uY2u3Z3Q_PIoJQnB7h8_QfD7A4UpvoakhrqMuhBs/s640/blogger-image--1469333433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgadsaaHlusEOEFWdcAA7N8to_2LyHI5u1J_gQeIui4MWgAz3QnfufcmtyhDFb7wnep4Q8-FyFUMRpwdjpJ21pv1zkOVl3MDPxyf5u2uY2u3Z3Q_PIoJQnB7h8_QfD7A4UpvoakhrqMuhBs/s640/blogger-image--1469333433.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-24241685295706136122013-12-10T19:07:00.001-08:002013-12-10T19:33:57.968-08:00'Tis the season to be jolly and to start an advent calender<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ntctTJb1DswtbNERgrH-hVG02qrNOWDxATzEUy_KPtu7PdR7Ul54xdEO-63EgouuNHbHVZzZpTqfQr05ZYmDiCYRwSPqNH0EBHyZY1RLhKf9SOwVn7K4PcEjEFGPeOqlgCQ89QY9wxeM/s640/blogger-image-1231100272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ntctTJb1DswtbNERgrH-hVG02qrNOWDxATzEUy_KPtu7PdR7Ul54xdEO-63EgouuNHbHVZzZpTqfQr05ZYmDiCYRwSPqNH0EBHyZY1RLhKf9SOwVn7K4PcEjEFGPeOqlgCQ89QY9wxeM/s640/blogger-image-1231100272.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>Unless you are living in some sort of dark cave, I am pretty sure you would all be well aware that the festive season is well and truly upon us. <div><br></div><div>Ho ho ho.<div><br></div><div>Lots of people are talking about the special little things they do in their house to celebrate the festive season. I am loving watching all the shenanigans of the christmas elves on Facebook and Instagram. </div><div><br></div><div>We don't have an elf but we do have Santa in a truck. He's an advent truck. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkjgD5vFV9MZ8yKn1tjJlSujlst1hFdyvPOGsz2cPUvfgawie6-GjxQZS4iuj7bDmMhnq2250vVJGGKGl8SL7cIxOQLj1b6Rbm9HCx8qctfp0lwrH1O7GHuRI4kEw0JhqXCX78YNEWTol/s640/blogger-image-1241710576.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqkjgD5vFV9MZ8yKn1tjJlSujlst1hFdyvPOGsz2cPUvfgawie6-GjxQZS4iuj7bDmMhnq2250vVJGGKGl8SL7cIxOQLj1b6Rbm9HCx8qctfp0lwrH1O7GHuRI4kEw0JhqXCX78YNEWTol/s640/blogger-image-1241710576.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>He is a real treat and something Noah looks forward to each year. Although this year he arrived a few days late... </div><div><br></div><div>Whoops.</div><div><br></div><div>We introduced this little guy into our house a few years ago. I was working almost full time hours and feeling particularly guilty about the working mum status. I was really worried that Noah, aged 2 would miss out on the Christmas build up (childcare doesn't celebrate the festive spirit). So with all that maternal guilt and a few spare hours, I created what I think is a beautiful way to celebrate the festive season.</div><div><br></div><div>Each day has a special message and a special Christmas task to be completed. Some tasks are easy. Others I wish I had never thought of (really who wants to make a gingerbread house every year?) And a few tasks, which remind us exactly what Christmas is about... </div><div><br></div><div>I thought it would be nice to share with you our advent tasks for 2013... The gingerbread got the boot. </div><div><br></div><div>1. Decorate Christmas tree and make a Christmas pudding </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-O3ncvwpGqXCicGnG3IIiApHQQ5HYHOinq7ry4IV1Zzonfy0MKhv0tzEO-4uvv52wAc_m2Dz0K1FEF1dHammMJ3rzYZmtGMhW4zVb4WAHcB4tb1bFr2nJRSTZIZHKF4syU8bgWD52eSh/s640/blogger-image-1470959532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2-O3ncvwpGqXCicGnG3IIiApHQQ5HYHOinq7ry4IV1Zzonfy0MKhv0tzEO-4uvv52wAc_m2Dz0K1FEF1dHammMJ3rzYZmtGMhW4zVb4WAHcB4tb1bFr2nJRSTZIZHKF4syU8bgWD52eSh/s640/blogger-image-1470959532.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>2. Visit the city and say hello to Santa </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPENp9JniQgTmtmUlxIWCUvw8i47PLaVr2LnGWDyAa3kgDi8NN1-40eJrDv_PH2Z9EIIovzNfT0Mqy336VVs3IBI0KlYidpx1VOta9I_lJi_-j4Itiaj8_M9Ot9QzLjsWLuMXlBvUioFhA/s640/blogger-image--1319244178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPENp9JniQgTmtmUlxIWCUvw8i47PLaVr2LnGWDyAa3kgDi8NN1-40eJrDv_PH2Z9EIIovzNfT0Mqy336VVs3IBI0KlYidpx1VOta9I_lJi_-j4Itiaj8_M9Ot9QzLjsWLuMXlBvUioFhA/s640/blogger-image--1319244178.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xgIp_U3JfaAPhDRn7iei41brsaJo1FdTTIIftctuOscZRQBe6cvF4_mq-EUGyXjo028Oyqarr0QtgHU8_g7d7vPI8Lk5IZXz4kXqInshp65-UXKESCg9X-ngYTdOFPIduVXiNjYF9yK8/s640/blogger-image--833194888.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0xgIp_U3JfaAPhDRn7iei41brsaJo1FdTTIIftctuOscZRQBe6cvF4_mq-EUGyXjo028Oyqarr0QtgHU8_g7d7vPI8Lk5IZXz4kXqInshp65-UXKESCg9X-ngYTdOFPIduVXiNjYF9yK8/s640/blogger-image--833194888.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>3. Buy a special Christmas ornament</div><div>4. Write Santa a special letter </div><div>5. Make Christmas cookies for your neighbours and deliver </div><div>6. Take Barkley for an evening walk</div><div>7. Sing a Christmas song to Jude</div><div>8. Read a Christmas story</div><div>9. Write a special Christmas story and share with mum, dad and Jude </div><div>10. Paint Santa</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMZsAyf431H1cs8Pq3a6DlpkR5CmTrpTm77lO1cCxshDHHEwhznmVsJQg2NpcW0DyzLwlPmpunU10m3kglGBrDle9BofHjeZjKJf089mNRPf8r9ChGTIhr40EXSjRKMksWpm-73BHfMgF/s640/blogger-image--1496894755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeMZsAyf431H1cs8Pq3a6DlpkR5CmTrpTm77lO1cCxshDHHEwhznmVsJQg2NpcW0DyzLwlPmpunU10m3kglGBrDle9BofHjeZjKJf089mNRPf8r9ChGTIhr40EXSjRKMksWpm-73BHfMgF/s640/blogger-image--1496894755.jpg"></a></div></div><div>11. Be kind and say thank you to all </div><div>12. Call Nanna and Pop and sing a Christmas jingle</div><div>13. Borrow some Christmas books from the library and read together</div><div>14. Make daddy breakfast in bed</div><div>15. Attend church service </div><div>16. Santa's magical kingdom, yeah! </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5ANwbOsAGXRT5tbQK59WPtLa9KNk84GvQNIQSDQLGyLGpeXoDiPR3Er8Kn4CJexDmwLKvjcZ4rI0AaruE6pxlSHGX0RqMzIASi1L5wI7UL_M4HJLkT9oo7s6nnPIVHIjHctWJNfHkd7N/s640/blogger-image--681540580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5ANwbOsAGXRT5tbQK59WPtLa9KNk84GvQNIQSDQLGyLGpeXoDiPR3Er8Kn4CJexDmwLKvjcZ4rI0AaruE6pxlSHGX0RqMzIASi1L5wI7UL_M4HJLkT9oo7s6nnPIVHIjHctWJNfHkd7N/s640/blogger-image--681540580.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn_Y0tDmvYZZ8TP6QUbUTYrcdg-J-ur7KXOCLgxyqNPSSQL-HNJz3_DADkp7qnKvE6BzvKOIxgQkNkcAMMtuT8Mh7VGYiKb-5Em6ogZk7o-IpTZw98czB7EyXomL1Pa97GfUOBth3VTIb/s640/blogger-image--332898419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn_Y0tDmvYZZ8TP6QUbUTYrcdg-J-ur7KXOCLgxyqNPSSQL-HNJz3_DADkp7qnKvE6BzvKOIxgQkNkcAMMtuT8Mh7VGYiKb-5Em6ogZk7o-IpTZw98czB7EyXomL1Pa97GfUOBth3VTIb/s640/blogger-image--332898419.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>17. Clean up your room and toys</div><div>18. Make your kinder friends a special Christmas gift and card</div><div>19. Draw a picture of our family enjoying Christmas </div><div>20. Kmart wishing tree</div><div>21. Help mummy write and post Christmas cards</div><div>22. Go and see the Christmas light display in the city </div><div>23. Help mummy wrap Christmas presents for your family and friends </div><div>24. Go to a Christmas concert and sing your little heart out</div><div>25. CHRISTMAS DAY: enjoy </div><div><br></div><div>Ill admit it here that sometimes we have to do a quick swap of the tasks if the days events call for it. But what I like about our little tasks is that it reminds us that Christmas is more than just ripping open some presents on the 25th of December.</div><div><br></div><div>Christmas is about sharing, being kind, giving and looking after those who are less advantaged than us. </div><div><br></div><div>All very important things for a little boy with the world at his feet to learn.</div><div><br></div><div>So, tell me what do you and your family do to celebrate Christmas? </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-16112552110989545612013-11-10T18:47:00.001-08:002013-11-10T18:49:53.291-08:00The dark side of parenting: sleep deprivationMost people that know me know that I love my sleep. love. my. sleep. I also don't like to be woken mid-sleep and well when you have a toddler and a 7 month old baby, its fair to say they don't give a hoot about YOUR sleep preferences. <div><br></div><div>They have their own little sleep mission and just quietly its utter rubbish.</div><div><br></div><div>I think it's fair to say that the whole sleep thing has all got a bit out of hand in our house. And as a consequence, we are ALL suffering from a little sleep deprivation. I know sleep deprivation is inevitable with 2 babes in the house but sleep is necessary and this whole sleep on the pillow that your head first lands on protocol that we have created in our house is the absolute pits.</div><div><br></div><div>Most nights, I actually have no idea who is where or what bed one has landed in. </div><div><br></div><div>Its like musical beds and it is not fun. </div><div><div><br></div><div>For example, we have had: Noah in our bed. Jude in our bed. Brad in Noah's bed. Jude in Noah's bed. Brad on the floor. Noah in Jude's cot (!), Noah under his bed ("Jo, have you seen Noah?"), Jo in Noah's bed. Jo on couch. Brad on couch. Noah at our feet. Both kids in our bed.... Parents on the floor in kids room.</div><div><br></div><div>Can you hear the music playing... on and on but last night, I screamed:</div><div><br></div><div>"Stop!"</div><div><br></div><div>My poor family and neighbours heard the almighty roar of serious sleep deprivation. I declared right then and there that tomorrow I declare war on sleep. </div><div><br></div><div>Yup. War. </div><div><br></div><div>We all need it and I will fight for it. Damn it.</div><div><br></div><div>So, today. I started operation sleep in your own bed. I know it's going to be tough. I am no fool. I have fought this battle before, back in 2009. I know I would rather pull out my toenails but this needs to be done. We all need sleep! And I will make sleep a priority. </div><div><br></div><div>So here's my pledge. For the month of November, these babies of mine will be sleeping in their own bed. And my husband will be by myside in our bed. Our beautiful bed. Maybe not 100% of the time, lets make it 80% of sleep time. </div><div><br></div><div>Don't want to set myself up for an earlier failure. I can do this. We can do this.</div></div><div><br></div><div>Wish me luck. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyone else got the same thing happening in their house? Want to join me in this fight for better sleep?</div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dlMQ2rDYJadqFNiUGF5uCp7Fvp1AQXHBPABPJnize7l2KJrlixdd4smX1bkN5u5nboBDHV1HiHgLW-CCc18m0QsGlQADvjBlgnc0x8jsTHhsJeNDpfrif3ekhXU4ia-0rgSA59FTq3MK/s640/blogger-image-1771490583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dlMQ2rDYJadqFNiUGF5uCp7Fvp1AQXHBPABPJnize7l2KJrlixdd4smX1bkN5u5nboBDHV1HiHgLW-CCc18m0QsGlQADvjBlgnc0x8jsTHhsJeNDpfrif3ekhXU4ia-0rgSA59FTq3MK/s640/blogger-image-1771490583.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLcGYm5y3dd-JA8hi-v0jM3kNPD0fMRP9FfQSPf0ZmBq2yEOhqNDMiz9iCIAoIyujK_mZoiSsxbX7GSTNAYJUGjclKJtMZdidrQCnGftEEyXMdXSBCefqxV7WKAXunN08dIBYosrVmP_n/s640/blogger-image--279997623.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLcGYm5y3dd-JA8hi-v0jM3kNPD0fMRP9FfQSPf0ZmBq2yEOhqNDMiz9iCIAoIyujK_mZoiSsxbX7GSTNAYJUGjclKJtMZdidrQCnGftEEyXMdXSBCefqxV7WKAXunN08dIBYosrVmP_n/s640/blogger-image--279997623.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-45063945958709450792013-11-10T00:01:00.001-08:002013-11-10T00:15:42.269-08:00What's your Ying... And where the hell is your yang?<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Time has just flown by. It's been a good couple of weeks since I last logged into my blog. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And.... l</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">ots, lots has been happening. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We welcomed the arrival of two new baby boys;</span><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); "> Jack and Lucas. We celebrated a first birthday (Happy birthday Finn), and dressed to impress at Seths superhero party and Eddies train party (yeah to being 4). Speaking of 4, we celebrated our </span><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); ">Noah turning 4. Happy happy birthday to our (not so little) big man. He dressed as a brave knight and celebrated his extra year with his little buddies in the park. The rain stayed away, I declared war in the kitchen, the cake was moist, </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">the piñata was a hit (!) and Noah declared it the "best party ever". </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Happy. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtP7wqhoMpn2iCG4KwQdwSxXdVikjSMvrxckpoCN7NElxeHKvQPfIy5AL7vxHatwlpP5oBNE0LOerhriJB1F-8K-hieF-j7y-cOVsYTcXpFP550IBqtzHfhRKw6SZyPvm2uIWeUrX_lh1/s640/blogger-image--2099488897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtP7wqhoMpn2iCG4KwQdwSxXdVikjSMvrxckpoCN7NElxeHKvQPfIy5AL7vxHatwlpP5oBNE0LOerhriJB1F-8K-hieF-j7y-cOVsYTcXpFP550IBqtzHfhRKw6SZyPvm2uIWeUrX_lh1/s640/blogger-image--2099488897.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlhC62LOE_reX19uTAgBLhf3PXqKMvZQ5MCGglxIWLAzb-9v-WTAhT7ud3zf17lLmj-EJUBzy10xjEU9PilpZjGJmg993aw-Bg15x_5blqxdSOBywf2J52J5Hbn3vaJNjqJimPXDyDJ2R/s640/blogger-image--2121144436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtlhC62LOE_reX19uTAgBLhf3PXqKMvZQ5MCGglxIWLAzb-9v-WTAhT7ud3zf17lLmj-EJUBzy10xjEU9PilpZjGJmg993aw-Bg15x_5blqxdSOBywf2J52J5Hbn3vaJNjqJimPXDyDJ2R/s640/blogger-image--2121144436.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLlYx6bORrLYvNTleH5Fbf-V2t0jnsICJiO1G3Jacn3fQOZ5BNGgGiM8q3vzZqaWjKgLxTcu94MsvMAWS-nz26l5r3yP554fwXoRH0l6wwglv8tnnLm4Yh9Zhqu2HuCQUr7vbmLPbeRRA/s640/blogger-image--1639872142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLlYx6bORrLYvNTleH5Fbf-V2t0jnsICJiO1G3Jacn3fQOZ5BNGgGiM8q3vzZqaWjKgLxTcu94MsvMAWS-nz26l5r3yP554fwXoRH0l6wwglv8tnnLm4Yh9Zhqu2HuCQUr7vbmLPbeRRA/s640/blogger-image--1639872142.jpg"></a></div></div></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7ENEpjhob6rJHbzl61turCN5o25FuNlyJVkNnWygNaHLgQAAVR3e3ag9aZ3nk5BTeDNWyCQX1dVqM2_CxYFGtd4aKlslI5akBGnb_erkDorD9x6Esw1vm3M0n6XpFrocpcK8CAKIXDfa/s640/blogger-image-1865679655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7ENEpjhob6rJHbzl61turCN5o25FuNlyJVkNnWygNaHLgQAAVR3e3ag9aZ3nk5BTeDNWyCQX1dVqM2_CxYFGtd4aKlslI5akBGnb_erkDorD9x6Esw1vm3M0n6XpFrocpcK8CAKIXDfa/s640/blogger-image-1865679655.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgL2s2rJraYXPi2v8TscAHj5-CM6LePAyEb9OOvZF0W0nQzTuwFa8dwFuBjdyZCMfoAMjfatM57lwNNOpetujWMTjWXK51QP_xILjJx_4HWxx4u9pWg1eddi6SkB7sSLGKczAPdrEXQyY/s640/blogger-image--1737608137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgL2s2rJraYXPi2v8TscAHj5-CM6LePAyEb9OOvZF0W0nQzTuwFa8dwFuBjdyZCMfoAMjfatM57lwNNOpetujWMTjWXK51QP_xILjJx_4HWxx4u9pWg1eddi6SkB7sSLGKczAPdrEXQyY/s640/blogger-image--1737608137.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">We hosted grandpa in our bungalow for a week, we dodged the busy laneways and crazy trams as Noah discovered the joys of riding a big boy bike and we went to scienceworks and played on the dots. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbPPE8G8nOS-lZkY2FCZiRLV5qOGiHAMfqpB2wxOH4mmFVnZNMP7zNg3TnrFaG1TOrrb39L9Rn3uBc87X8F1gc0Ogjy1lf9nO37jv-UcbDxVHhIEczT_8CRCHoWXZyi79iFUaC1Oo2iwO/s640/blogger-image-527435523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbPPE8G8nOS-lZkY2FCZiRLV5qOGiHAMfqpB2wxOH4mmFVnZNMP7zNg3TnrFaG1TOrrb39L9Rn3uBc87X8F1gc0Ogjy1lf9nO37jv-UcbDxVHhIEczT_8CRCHoWXZyi79iFUaC1Oo2iwO/s640/blogger-image-527435523.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Jude grew some hair, which is looking very blonde (err, genetics?) and he has developed quite a strong core. He is all sorts of sitting. And the boys are playing (yes, playing!) as brothers, which makes me so incredibly happy.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVf-jNLGvGazeQxkfzfISgqDP2DZzN2ttC133dzeDSdwtn-20sX3D4j-30lMTZMVZUkkVccvgCdj9BDQFf0AWnN_cvPcgQJ36z6lGMKYlLy0SkrStqFNypOHbhFRBYRSaY0R36QtOCLG7/s640/blogger-image--960191232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibVf-jNLGvGazeQxkfzfISgqDP2DZzN2ttC133dzeDSdwtn-20sX3D4j-30lMTZMVZUkkVccvgCdj9BDQFf0AWnN_cvPcgQJ36z6lGMKYlLy0SkrStqFNypOHbhFRBYRSaY0R36QtOCLG7/s640/blogger-image--960191232.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">I started mummy boot camp and well, found my core too. It just happened to be whilst crouched over the toilet bowl. Running and me have never been friends. But it was all for a good cause. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Our beautiful friends Lissy and Luke tied the knot and I had the privilege of being a part of the bridal party. Hence, the running. It was a beautiful day, the boys wore bowties and I actually caught myself saying "amazing" for the 200th time because it was just all so, amazing... </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Stop it. </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzuUfV95EDRkoiRJ25qrajxhomO_6l7kh7LUW5HL0ulP1mkpvY_KAZEaEbFNrCGqy6o_b-S9lHhFdyWvupg-jONX0ljM3RE8lUph91bwJ8Je7TTr6pDTg7L8yvefk9VopcFl7SCBg6Jdt/s640/blogger-image--1736301463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTzuUfV95EDRkoiRJ25qrajxhomO_6l7kh7LUW5HL0ulP1mkpvY_KAZEaEbFNrCGqy6o_b-S9lHhFdyWvupg-jONX0ljM3RE8lUph91bwJ8Je7TTr6pDTg7L8yvefk9VopcFl7SCBg6Jdt/s640/blogger-image--1736301463.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvRmSF3QAzLbzc-4fcgMjox0sZcBKKfNeNyJWT9y3R6cRAxgTaq0CBPh1E9GkIDRB4Q9n01aijYl8xVeLq41UIm5VCphECVftV_z4xOqiSh6jWjSNa5XXJcgl4lz-7C80c4FbyQ8RolJQ/s640/blogger-image-1293436559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPvRmSF3QAzLbzc-4fcgMjox0sZcBKKfNeNyJWT9y3R6cRAxgTaq0CBPh1E9GkIDRB4Q9n01aijYl8xVeLq41UIm5VCphECVftV_z4xOqiSh6jWjSNa5XXJcgl4lz-7C80c4FbyQ8RolJQ/s640/blogger-image-1293436559.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4vQ57SnmRZzjMMhis7BCDkhRNB7ZGy9VK1IFqTO20RMn1ttDxyAwJb7jZvsA9yW8h4o9t7UDhRfThboAMMbTJyKRsPCVr4g70_FJ0QWfMN158Pn_1jKOlCyeaglAF0vUepAWSzPzozPN/s640/blogger-image--1048513994.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF4vQ57SnmRZzjMMhis7BCDkhRNB7ZGy9VK1IFqTO20RMn1ttDxyAwJb7jZvsA9yW8h4o9t7UDhRfThboAMMbTJyKRsPCVr4g70_FJ0QWfMN158Pn_1jKOlCyeaglAF0vUepAWSzPzozPN/s640/blogger-image--1048513994.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1gQ_JQqm_MT-s4hDIbCktgS2pW-96V1CO6MMsGwT-asffMzPiFKPZ2El2YOjw2_cw2tpPWSfeQMp8hV1Goji8V6qQ-tZx4LntTO0wlbTOkOWgWLvJinpe1onBaM7P6BCtYRBCFbUM5ZP/s640/blogger-image--2074936305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE1gQ_JQqm_MT-s4hDIbCktgS2pW-96V1CO6MMsGwT-asffMzPiFKPZ2El2YOjw2_cw2tpPWSfeQMp8hV1Goji8V6qQ-tZx4LntTO0wlbTOkOWgWLvJinpe1onBaM7P6BCtYRBCFbUM5ZP/s640/blogger-image--2074936305.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">And then amongst all this "busyness" I had some real moments of self reflection. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Life has a way of doing this to me</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">, of saying, "Hey, Jo! You seriously don't look busy enough, how about you start pondering everything in your life? Like, what's important to you and to your family? What makes a good friend and are you one? What's good in your life and what needs some help? Whats your Ying? And where the hell is your Yang? And </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">what needs to happen to make all that (over there on the other side of your head) happen. Snap to it."</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> </span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Busy place is my head. Fair to say I am not even close to answering a single one of those questions posed by life. Ill get around to it one day, I hope.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">And that my friends has been a couple of weeks in my house. Crazy, busy, happy random bits of chaos.</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">How's your week been? What are you looking forward to this week?</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Love Jo xxx</span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><br></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="text-align: left; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-64669517289420083662013-10-24T21:18:00.001-07:002013-10-24T21:27:47.626-07:004 year old parties gone wild.I am so sorry, I have totally gone MIA the last week. But, rest assured I am still here. I am just in the midst of throwing the biggest partay of my life for my sweet, beloved boy. <div><br></div><div>Yes, Noah's turning 4! <div><br></div><div>And my god, as if being a parent wasn't stressful enough, nowadays you also have to throw the party of the year. </div><div><br></div><div>Magicians, animal farms, face painting, cupcake decorating, cakes that put my wedding cake to shame and food to tantalise every child, adult and sibling! <br><div><br></div><div>Is it not enough that I had to push this now 4 year old out of my you know what? And that I have yards and yards of stretch marks from this event? Can we not just celebrate that he is relatively scar-free and well, alive? </div></div><div><br></div><div>Nope. </div><div><br></div><div>We must throw him a party. A party he won't forget {but probably will}. Hey 18 year old Noah, remember your 4th birthday party? You know the Knights and Princess party. One for the boys and one for the girls, you informed us. </div><div><br></div><div>Nope? Thought so. </div><div><br></div><div>Oh well, the party planning must go on. Of course, there will be a princess at your party and maybe a knight. My beautiful cousin will be coming as a more wondeful version of her self. A princess. When she asked what I would like her to do as guest Princess, I replied in text, " I don't know.... Just make the kids pee their pants with excitements and make us look like amazeball parents."</div><div><br></div><div>Yes. It has come to this. But really, if Jeff had never dressed up as a magician at his daughters party earlier in the year then this wouldn't be happening... Thanks Jeff. The bar has been set much too high.</div><div><br></div><div>And I don't like it.</div><div><br></div><div>But for now, I must get back to the party preparations. Too much to do and well, I kinda suck as baking so its going to be a long weekend. Everyone get out of the kitchen space... NOW.</div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div>Oh, but before I go what's your thoughts on feeding parents at kids party's? </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mo4223GBuRzwP4vGg31u7O6Eq-ihqKxD-z9HAO4GeKRnlTbJso4jZiKAwAMIU-iA00-OTTKCCMgxRyvfanij7-4nbD3mdCT84vIB_KGALYoiNTxSClM9GKfymRfY_ckSWdm5QygWN-mG/s640/blogger-image-249102627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mo4223GBuRzwP4vGg31u7O6Eq-ihqKxD-z9HAO4GeKRnlTbJso4jZiKAwAMIU-iA00-OTTKCCMgxRyvfanij7-4nbD3mdCT84vIB_KGALYoiNTxSClM9GKfymRfY_ckSWdm5QygWN-mG/s640/blogger-image-249102627.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Knight Noah's costume attire</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqi7dLU7cqSfdn9cUoLvt8OyxVKO3FhqB1ZaJgXJ4LG02tIFPnN57fUQATe3IEMuXexB5iREv0dldsAGRTgG1pMLcVB5iyI7SdD8hm-z_5G2jxSHPckTeBDE1sn8xXEpo66uIcoMbf_XI/s640/blogger-image--1611936424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqi7dLU7cqSfdn9cUoLvt8OyxVKO3FhqB1ZaJgXJ4LG02tIFPnN57fUQATe3IEMuXexB5iREv0dldsAGRTgG1pMLcVB5iyI7SdD8hm-z_5G2jxSHPckTeBDE1sn8xXEpo66uIcoMbf_XI/s640/blogger-image--1611936424.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Party bag... With lollies because that's what party bags are for... Lollies.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6L5skp5XRo11Nd9cjXS3WLyTJfVBvyi2r1NwVZi0vAc8fT8cYhWsuHwrhFYNLEbV-Rcox-upoBGSpW-xWDfXb-0-ayiMwlORgYPEvLiebhI9sAuHU7UC6efEyy2Nr6LTU7tZMdnJJhMX/s640/blogger-image-2013270355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6L5skp5XRo11Nd9cjXS3WLyTJfVBvyi2r1NwVZi0vAc8fT8cYhWsuHwrhFYNLEbV-Rcox-upoBGSpW-xWDfXb-0-ayiMwlORgYPEvLiebhI9sAuHU7UC6efEyy2Nr6LTU7tZMdnJJhMX/s640/blogger-image-2013270355.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJspUO-u7IjQ3MS0o_f_MZuRJCL8uBTpMps9gmyLmkH6FDT38VwqKbN0PcR3kX4RAvmg5EBDU3FWJhi5aT75MxOfms7nzXNI640imAkBL6UMRZOfDgeqJcN5Ly-z0yO5aVuRxIElBgAxqk/s640/blogger-image--722766443.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJspUO-u7IjQ3MS0o_f_MZuRJCL8uBTpMps9gmyLmkH6FDT38VwqKbN0PcR3kX4RAvmg5EBDU3FWJhi5aT75MxOfms7nzXNI640imAkBL6UMRZOfDgeqJcN5Ly-z0yO5aVuRxIElBgAxqk/s640/blogger-image--722766443.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Prize bucket. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv422bki0vrimXuV3QT18hHMtec9pbuOKQXs0EEITftyWhFTkpuaAkqka0ymZQ5sPvP4fhQj6Jrhmz_TIrvXnp7NvbUirpzxFqg-Mnah3f2eRD8QxIxOTC7naT8T2FIxMqqcVLndHDv6re/s640/blogger-image-1882169676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv422bki0vrimXuV3QT18hHMtec9pbuOKQXs0EEITftyWhFTkpuaAkqka0ymZQ5sPvP4fhQj6Jrhmz_TIrvXnp7NvbUirpzxFqg-Mnah3f2eRD8QxIxOTC7naT8T2FIxMqqcVLndHDv6re/s640/blogger-image-1882169676.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The dragon Piñata. So much effort but I kind of love him a lot. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56c0gg6u4W6zhTHtlML4Nnd5wynaqDR3SLp7yUW7YnJ5ijw8flpSQRAIXI_LjO8Gu9hjbkUbdJ15sYnFu3NZc3PCtZ-sLuaDuNncvCPqcjEVzUGAYN4jpZ4TQbOOAeqofJuK21gJRNuqW/s640/blogger-image-45626971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj56c0gg6u4W6zhTHtlML4Nnd5wynaqDR3SLp7yUW7YnJ5ijw8flpSQRAIXI_LjO8Gu9hjbkUbdJ15sYnFu3NZc3PCtZ-sLuaDuNncvCPqcjEVzUGAYN4jpZ4TQbOOAeqofJuK21gJRNuqW/s640/blogger-image-45626971.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Cake preps. Wish me luck. </div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-74511477851120322162013-10-22T18:30:00.001-07:002013-10-23T16:46:21.159-07:00Santas Magical Kingdom: ticket giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
61 sleeps until Santa Claus comes a knocking at ya door... {Or your chimney}. </div>
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Do you have a chimney? </div>
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And to celebrate this magical time of year, we were fortunate enough to craft and dine with the fabulous Mrs Claus. </div>
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She told us the big man in red is just way too busy for any meet and greets at this time of the year. But, we had just such a fabulous time with Mrs Claus. She was fabulous. Check her out... </div>
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And we did some Christmas craft too.</div>
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Mrs Claus promised us that Santa will well and truly ready for Santa's Magical Kingdom, which opens on 15th November in Melbourne</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Santa’s Magical Kingdom is an interactive walk-through adventure land including everything that you love about Christmas, plus a spectacular Christmas themed circus show that will amaze. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Santa’s Magical Kingdom is for every child and the ‘inner-child’ in all of us. </span></div>
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But, SMK sold out in 2012 and tickets for 2013 are already selling fast... Some sessions have been exhausted.</div>
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But guess what we have up for grabs...</div>
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<b>A family pass for Santa's Magical Kingdom: </b><b>The pass is valid for Sunday 17th November for the 11am session.</b></div>
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All you have to do to be in the running to win the family pass is like poppiesforme on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/poppiesforme" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and/or <a href="http://instagram.com/poppiesforme" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and leave a comment below describing a Christmas memory. It can be good, bad, funny or a tad but crazy...just share.</div>
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<b>Entries close Friday 1st November. </b></div>
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So, tell me what's your Christmas memory?</div>
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Love Jo xxx</div>
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To check out SMK, or to buy tickets click on the link below:<br />
<span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.294118); font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="http://www.santasmagicalkingdom.com.au/" target="_blank">www.santasmagicalkingdom.com.au/</a></span></div>
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Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-8693934491265233742013-10-17T05:23:00.001-07:002013-10-17T17:03:47.402-07:00I heart One Colour {and a giveaway}<div class="page" title="Page 1">
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<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Today, I am sharing someone elses story. I haven't run out of my own stories, I promise. But I feel its time I start to share the poppies love and the loves of poppies with you all. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">And there is a giveaway. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">Squeel.</span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">The something I love and love to share is the story of One Colour. One Colour is an Australian company that is creating sustainable employment and economic empowerent for African women </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">through the ethical trade of beautiful, versatile fashion, jewellery and Kenana Knitters.</span><br>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">The </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">Kenana Knitter toys, as pictured above are CUTE and are ethically produced in the Rift Valley region of Kenya, Africa, using local homespun wool and organic cotton yarn from Tanzania. </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Kenana Knitter employs and pays fair wages for 30 full time women. With on-going employment, access to healthcare and training, the women can make plans for tomorrow rather than just having enough to live for today, </span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;">transforming not only their lives but the lives of their families, and their communities. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Hello Christmas, hashtag perfect stocking filler. Who's with me? One for neighbour Johnny, nephew Harry and bosses daughter, Amy. At least, you can rest assured that your </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 15px;">partaking in compassionate, thoughtful purchasing not mindless, last minute Christmas gift grabbing. </span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 15px;"><br></span></span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 15px;">Go on. Admit it. We all do it.</span></span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Oh, but wait. Just when you thought One Colour couldn't be any nicer... They have gone and gifted us one Kenana Knitter to give away to YOU!!!</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 15px;"><br></span></span></div><div class="column"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-size: 15px;">Like.</span></span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">For your chance to win </span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">all you have to do is like One Colour and Poppies for Me on Facebook and </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">follow both One Colour and Poppies for Me on Instagram and then leave us a comment below telling us which Kenana knitter you would like to snuggle; the elephant or the giraffe. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Elephant, elephant, elephant. Just in case your wondering Santa Claus. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">In addition, to celebrate the launch of One Colours new clothing range; Detour. One Colour are also throwing in a $20 gift voucher for you to spend on one of their Detour </span><span style="font-family: 'Calibri'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">pieces. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri'; font-size: 11.000000pt;">All pieces are simply gorgeous, versatile, timeless and classic in style and </span><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">come with the promise that they have been produced in an environmentally sound way with a positive social story. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></font>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Can fashion get any better? </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri"><span style="font-size: 15px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></font>
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-family: Calibri; font-size: 15px;">Yup, just take a peek for yourself. Detours</span><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt;"> black
dresses, patterned skirts, jackets and basic separates are perfect for both work-wear and a more
smart-casual look at the weekend. These little numbers are my love picks. Work and fun! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">So, hit the likes and the follows, leave a comment below {elephant or giraffe} and be in the running to win one of the Kenana Knitters and a $20 gift voucher to go towards your very own ethically produced Detour piece. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">Entries close Friday 25th October. </span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">Winner drawn at random, probably by Noah.</span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">Thank you One Colour for being simply fabulous and for creating positive change through fashion.</span></div><div class="column"><font face="Calibri,Italic"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br></span></font>
<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">Love Jo xxx</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11pt;">To suss out how you'll spend your winning voucher or to make your own very own Christmas wish list, check out: </span><span style="color: rgb(0.000000%, 0.000000%, 100.000000%); font-family: 'Calibri,Italic'; font-size: 11.000000pt;"><a href="http://www.onecolour.com.au/" target="_blank">http://www.onecolour.com.au/ </a></span></div>
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Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-50652202537155149082013-10-14T05:09:00.001-07:002013-10-14T05:52:02.250-07:00Bad Mother in a Taxi.All good nights end with a ride home in a cab and as I hailed for a cab on Saturday night, I knew my night was coming to an end. We had had a beautiful day for a beautiful future bride; sun, pretty ladies in pretty frocks, happy faces, bowls on the green, dancing in the doorway, a whole lot of laughs and a fake leg. Just how a Hens Day should be... Perfect Bliss.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqV_tGnl5VkZw6I9Up18BO70OkbUZ4w3dqCibjoWDQWyIKJE_N5qw4RHZ6mvhMetlFj3mLI1XRA2xVdV1hLMWpNVAS89C3gf9-13oRFwWyX6AZpOJYjeJwBSw2wWAsMbSDr8nFnCB_d6fM/s640/blogger-image-1385619822.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqV_tGnl5VkZw6I9Up18BO70OkbUZ4w3dqCibjoWDQWyIKJE_N5qw4RHZ6mvhMetlFj3mLI1XRA2xVdV1hLMWpNVAS89C3gf9-13oRFwWyX6AZpOJYjeJwBSw2wWAsMbSDr8nFnCB_d6fM/s640/blogger-image-1385619822.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The Bride & her brunette maids.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB82kf0Q7kv6RmYjHhRaVY7vpR6VIFIzRU0sbeQcLxUae1Od1RPb58vHjDcQiUPK2lHSdAC3bVUvy6KVdB-kgGNGRaakRF79l1OnU5ryaDDJgcds-9wjJrJup5g2yN6PLv7A6FH5t61Yt/s640/blogger-image--1556748316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoB82kf0Q7kv6RmYjHhRaVY7vpR6VIFIzRU0sbeQcLxUae1Od1RPb58vHjDcQiUPK2lHSdAC3bVUvy6KVdB-kgGNGRaakRF79l1OnU5ryaDDJgcds-9wjJrJup5g2yN6PLv7A6FH5t61Yt/s640/blogger-image--1556748316.jpg"></a></div>Lawn bowls.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXBOpXolo0bXuslKP7mjAZt8LGfDl3HTrTCrevc9pxSJP2T3uZFloe2sxF5vlrWmoCAnnAjiOwEPiPq8M0aRNGiAF5R-CtyB2zNBGdtoNhR1LL0vR0t4TOsyX-TSoXgEgAHpweFv4MQmN/s640/blogger-image-1852065317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXBOpXolo0bXuslKP7mjAZt8LGfDl3HTrTCrevc9pxSJP2T3uZFloe2sxF5vlrWmoCAnnAjiOwEPiPq8M0aRNGiAF5R-CtyB2zNBGdtoNhR1LL0vR0t4TOsyX-TSoXgEgAHpweFv4MQmN/s640/blogger-image-1852065317.jpg"></a></div>Where's ya tractor? Bride.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdXlSb4Q1ABQlnh6sb5-rykqaU7P0Ja7tzJaRU9REXDfis9F3v7IPAnk-kC9e1inVJ0i-jVQB6iKCbbupMqkCypWiDhTKZtpNgt1X9SKZw7jo3OTLnp6XLndOu8WZT7RlkXr1XC71FxnD/s640/blogger-image-1870360406.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdXlSb4Q1ABQlnh6sb5-rykqaU7P0Ja7tzJaRU9REXDfis9F3v7IPAnk-kC9e1inVJ0i-jVQB6iKCbbupMqkCypWiDhTKZtpNgt1X9SKZw7jo3OTLnp6XLndOu8WZT7RlkXr1XC71FxnD/s640/blogger-image-1870360406.jpg"></a></div>Smiley faces.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvjKkqoxVixXJs5PNCXHqIhZn-I3bcX0RhWc8PbOgxruyPGqSu3eS7llzT1ecLTH7BWl25yf5AUNFsCbzHdJ5mw_bJLaIS1_PALU_1yrtjp2b8z5Qkz7Q4DHNM5k_OVKE3qfZ5JUWyHBv/s640/blogger-image--861665901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvjKkqoxVixXJs5PNCXHqIhZn-I3bcX0RhWc8PbOgxruyPGqSu3eS7llzT1ecLTH7BWl25yf5AUNFsCbzHdJ5mw_bJLaIS1_PALU_1yrtjp2b8z5Qkz7Q4DHNM5k_OVKE3qfZ5JUWyHBv/s640/blogger-image--861665901.jpg"></a></div>Happy baby.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div><div>So when I farewelled the dance floor at 11 sharp and hailed for my cab on Brunswick Street, its fair to say I was a little sad. It had been a fabulous day! But it was over for me, which was okay. But, a little sad.</div><div><br></div><div>I left with a dramatic exit, as most of my exits are. Frantic hand waving out the cab window, air kisses, lip kisses, boob grabbing, hootering and hollering. You get the scene. So, once this was all done and the light turned green, Mr Yellow Cabs asked; "Where you off to...?" to which I replied with my address. To which he replied; "which way do you want to go...?" To which I replied, "Well, I don't know. Whichever way is quickest I have a hungry baby at home..!"</div><div><div><br></div><div>Mr Yellow Cabs was not expecting this response, nor was I expecting his, which went something like this;</div></div><div><br></div><div>"... You have a baby? You should be at home with your baby. You should not be out on the town drinking... ! Why are you out? Who is with your baby? It is not your place..." And then his phone rang so his rant came to an abrupt end. </div><div><br></div><div>As I sat in the cab feeling horribly judged, I felt the need to justify my night out to myself. Mr Yellow Cabs was too busy talking on his phone so his questions were left unanswered so I didn't get to tell him all of these things... </div><div><br></div><div>I didn't get to tell him that I was out celebrating my best friends upcoming marriage. I didn't get to tell him that I had been looking forward to this day for over a year and that it was my first night out in 15 months, maybe more. Nor did I get to tell him I could count my alcohol comsumption on one hand. I didn't get to tell him that my husband was an adorable and capable dad that had not gone to the bucks day so he could drive my baby to me throughout the day for feeds, nor did I get to tell him that I had held my phone in my hand all day waiting for an SOS call. I also didn't get to say that I had been expressing milk from myself like a cow all week so that my baby could have breast milk because god forbid he have formula, whilst all along knowing he wont take a bottle. And I didn't get to say that I had pureed my whole vegetable supply just in case he got a sudden urge to try something new. Oh, and I didnt get to tell him that my boobs felt like solid rocks and were threatening to explode all over his cab.</div><div><br></div><div>Nope. I didn't tell him all this. </div><div><br></div><div>Instead, I sat there feeling like a bad mother. </div><div><br></div><div>Bad, bad mother. </div><div><br></div><div>Well, Mr Yellow Cabs, you can go stick it because I am not a bad mother. Nope, I am not. And I am darn right sick of people judging mothers. Really and completely honestly over it. We are all doing our best. Yes, we might forget to put a hat on our child's head on a slightly sunny day and yes, our child's shorts might be on back the front. And, yes it appears I am crazy and loose, but reserve your judgement because you are only seeing a snippet of my day. You are not seeing the before and afters, the creative planning and the juggling act. </div><div><br></div><div>Mr Yellow Cabs you should be kind to all mothers. Hear, what I say?!? Everyone should be kind to mothers. </div><div><br></div><div>And you know what else... Don't ask me for flippn' directions. I don't bloody know. I am not the driver. YOU ARE.</div><div><br></div><div>And no, there is no tip. </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div>Have you felt like a bad mother? Have you been judged by a cab driver? Why would you have said to him?</div><div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-62690862526205341602013-10-10T13:43:00.001-07:002013-10-10T13:56:17.867-07:00Face your fear: my fear of needles.<p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yesterday, I took myself off to my local doctor for a routine health check. I like my doctor. Hanan Alal is her name and she is a goodn'. I trust her implicitly and we often get lost in a good conversation. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">But, yesterday she made me question our relationship when she suggested I take a dreaded blood test:</span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Just here, now. Ill do it quick. No problem." </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I hate the things so n</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">aturally, I backed into the corner (no, really I did) and pleaded with her that we do it next week.</span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Those pleas fell onto deaf ears. I was jabbed. And I didn't like it. Everyone has</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> a friend or family member that is terrified of needles. And thats me. Yup, here I am. Loud and proud. Terrified of needles.</span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">The thought of rolling up your sleeve, them tapping on your arm while tightening the band, the actual needle inside your body, the horrible clicking of the tubes and then the cotton wool at the end to catch the overflow. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Oh, god. It's all too much. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">It has always been an issue. Always. As a child, as a teen, as an adult and as a mum. And let's just say that being pregnant is no fun for a needle phobic. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Pregnancy is the ultimate stab fest. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Some people are considerate and kind when it comes to accommodating those with needle issues. Some offer for you to take the test lying down, others go a little slower, offer you water or hide the needles. But the best ones, offer you Angelcream. Yes, numbing cream. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I discovered Angelcream last year when I was pregnant with Jude. 6 weeks pregnant and feeling pretty pregnancy horrible I knew the routine antenatal checks were looming. As I sat staring at the dreaded pathology slip,</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> pondering what lie ahead, I spotted a collection site at the childrens hospital. A place for kids to have needles. That sounds like me. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Pathetic, right? </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">But in my head, I</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "> figured those who do needles on kids would need to be kind, considerate and well... tolerant of crying. And that they were. I discovered the numbing cream there. I had my needle and left with a Disney bandaid. They had run out of lollipops. It was the most pleasant needle experience to date. But, it certainly didn't make up for the other 40, or so unpleasant needle experiences.</span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I wish I didn't have this fear. I wish I could "toughen up Princess" {yes, this has been said to me amidst needle tears}. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">But its not a simple case of toughening up </span><a href="http://www.needlephobia.com/" target="_blank" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; text-decoration: none; font-weight: bold; ">according to Dr. James G. Hamilton</a>. You can read his thoughts on evolution and needle fears here.</p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">So, that's me. I am afraid of needles. They make me squirm. They make me shake. And feel horrible inside. But, yesterday, Hanan Alal, she got her blood. As it slowly dripped from my arm, it threatened to stop. But Hanan said that's enough and we were done. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Click. Another needle down. </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Do you have a needle fear? Or any other fears for that matter? </span></p><p style="text-align: -webkit-auto; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 10px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">Love Jo xxx</span></p><div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-76043676537209519402013-10-07T05:11:00.001-07:002013-10-07T10:18:25.696-07:00I don't do compliments. How about you?<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_uI73TIm69TO6q3rNINJePaFYblSZjpi0rx4vptrh4l67Gk2LK1ZzVMi2Uz77bLAKQ7cpw3mPJulIA3qD4J2VPs2YxcAL6hhPMhnfkovnki0cO9iO2Z8Qdu9UpBze8OrSoK0m0bwHoAu/s640/blogger-image-650520966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz_uI73TIm69TO6q3rNINJePaFYblSZjpi0rx4vptrh4l67Gk2LK1ZzVMi2Uz77bLAKQ7cpw3mPJulIA3qD4J2VPs2YxcAL6hhPMhnfkovnki0cO9iO2Z8Qdu9UpBze8OrSoK0m0bwHoAu/s640/blogger-image-650520966.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div>I had a few wonderful stories to share with you today but then something happened. This thing that happened has been a bit of an issue with me for a very long time and I am hoping by sharing it I might commit myself to overcome it.<div><div><br></div><div>So here it is:</div><div><br></div><div>Breath.<br><div><br></div><div>I don't do compliments.</div><div><br></div><div>Crazy, right? But, compliments, all compliments they make me squirm in my pants. </div><div><br></div><div>Someone compliments me on my outfit. "Well, this old thing I just got it at the op shop." Someone says I write well. And I say its just words. Someone compliements my hair? "Well, I just brushed it for a change." No drugs in childbirth. It was nothing, he was small. Anyone could have done it.</div><div><br></div><div>And see this photo:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZ6fLXgvxL31SHWhcrIo6C04GRqPcAxnXNPc1capBmk-Y4cOEpgRGCs_uuir6vO_WoJpNUNQ4mO60p_Gl5AkCzykRH0nFIvRsVV4e6o_9Bs5MddDVK8wtvkT3uHrAbv9VUM1en7ZA-0-e/s640/blogger-image-151581333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZ6fLXgvxL31SHWhcrIo6C04GRqPcAxnXNPc1capBmk-Y4cOEpgRGCs_uuir6vO_WoJpNUNQ4mO60p_Gl5AkCzykRH0nFIvRsVV4e6o_9Bs5MddDVK8wtvkT3uHrAbv9VUM1en7ZA-0-e/s640/blogger-image-151581333.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>... My friend commented on IG "you look pretty" and I replied "I look tired..."</div><div><br></div><div>Always making an excuse.</div><div><br></div><div>So when Frankie, my lovely neighbour today said, "Jo your looking great. Nice and fit and fabulous. Good on you." I actually feel vain writing this. I went into compliment slasher mode and did what I always do. I blushed, looked away and began mindless rambling about housework and being knee deep in soap suds for the last 4 hours {true!}.</div></div><div><br></div><div>I didn't say thank you. And I didn't enjoy the compliment. And quite frankly this annoys me. Because when I compliment a friend, family member, collegaue or acquaintance, I genuinely mean what I am saying. I don't want her to brush it off and make excuses. So, I feel the time has come for this to stop. </div><div><br></div><div>Yes, stop. </div><div><br></div><div>So, now when I receive a compliment I am going to try my hardest to say thank you. I think it will take some serious practice. And perhaps, some biting of ones tongue. But I will get there. I don't expect you all to stand up and applaud. But, I hope I can make this happen.</div></div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">I am positive I am not alone on this. Am I ladies?</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">There are way too many of us compliment slashers out there and it is not okay. </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">It</span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">'s time we celebrate our awesomeness {hear my female roar, roooooaaarrr} and stop this putting down of ones self. </span>So who's with me? Do you take a compliment well? Or are you a compliment slasher, like me? </div><div><br></div><div>I dare you to come on this journey with me as together we learn to embrace & love compliments. </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div>Ps. Your looking great, by the way. Why, thank you. Practice, practice.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0BxAWZDQsZamc1wPHHpTaTEHmCYpGaEhbAlT_93NTZZ74ZsGqjLOscfRVeUh6hC-izV3mGHrrWmfWZ1S3Lypu6KEqDeoC2DqYZHHUjoo3E4tHVczJ9ExbldHY_U8DnMAZPiWfwM3jHMJ/s640/blogger-image--2132602510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid0BxAWZDQsZamc1wPHHpTaTEHmCYpGaEhbAlT_93NTZZ74ZsGqjLOscfRVeUh6hC-izV3mGHrrWmfWZ1S3Lypu6KEqDeoC2DqYZHHUjoo3E4tHVczJ9ExbldHY_U8DnMAZPiWfwM3jHMJ/s640/blogger-image--2132602510.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-4130649068420752372013-10-02T17:56:00.001-07:002013-10-02T18:14:42.209-07:00Don't judge me but I can't read a map.I have a problem. And this problem of mine causes serious {yet, predictable} issues every time we jump in the car and take off on a little family drive adventure.<br />
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Problem is I cant read maps or give any helpful directional advice. Nope, I really can't. They confuse the bleepn' hell out of me. I have on several lone driving excursions got very lost. </div>
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And I won't even mention the time that a girlfriend and I got so ridiculously confused by a map that we ended up backtracking all the way back to Wodonga through bushfire scrubbery in the soaring heat. As a result we missed our bestest lady friends wedding rehersal. Bad bridesmaids. Sorry Simone.</div>
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Here we are, lost. It was so hot and I was so pregnant. At least we were still smiling. </div>
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Hooray we arrived. Note the time. 5.17. Very. Very. Late.<br />
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So frazzled and hungered by our drive, we ate dinner at the local RSL where the local dinner dance was being held.<br />
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Thankfully, she was a blissfully chilled bride and didnt mind a bit. Rocking 36 weeks preg here at Gapstead winery. </div>
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You see, the problem has only got worse since I met my husband. He is the map reader and I rely on this. I pack the nappy bag, the lunch boxes and fill the water bottles and he knows where to drive. </div>
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Simple.</div>
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Except when he asks me to provide the directions, which is what happened on Tuesday on our way to the tulip farm.</div>
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We were so excited to get going that we jumped in the car and less than 5 minutes later he asks me "what road do I take Jo?"</div>
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I reply, "I don't know... Out that way on that big road." *Waving hand.</div>
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H: "Which big road? The Eastern?"</div>
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Me: "Yeah, maybe. I don't know. Lilydale?"</div>
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Silence. Driving.</div>
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H: "So...do you want to look it up?"</div>
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Me: *groans. "Not really."</div>
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H: "Well, you need to. I'm driving"</div>
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So I begin searching google maps on my iPhone for directions and naturally I get distracted by a random Facebook comment, a very funny email and a friend sunning it up on Instagram. </div>
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5 minutes pass.</div>
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H: "You got it, yet?"</div>
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Me: "Yeah it's here, see?"</div>
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I shove the phone in the husbands direction and point at a big road. </div>
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H: "Jo, I can't look at the phone. Tell me where I need to go. This road or that road? Read the map!"</div>
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He is not impressed.</div>
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Me: "I can't read maps. You know that."</div>
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H: "its not hard, look at the numbers."</div>
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I turn the iphone upside down on its head looking for numbers. Irritating husband further. All I can see is green, which I think is grass. I stare blankly at a strectch of road. That must be it. I point to road. </div>
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Me: "Here, maybe?"</div>
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H: "Where the heck is here?"</div>
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Me: all huffy now* "I dont know, I dont know. You know I can't read a map. You married me with this knowledge. You know I don't have the map reading gene. Blame my genetics" as I throw my phone on the car dashboard.</div>
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Husband pulls over to look at map. </div>
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Silence. Makes a u-turn and takes off down road.</div>
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Me: "We all good now?"</div>
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H: "Yes, Jo."</div>
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And that's a typical family adventure drive. Map reader, I am not. Don't judge.</div>
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Love Jo xxx</div>
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Ps. The Tesselaar tulip festival is amazing. And if you are heading out there, here's a map. You can thank me later. </div>
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Are you a map reader? Can you teach me a thing or two about maps?</div>
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Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-6897595807719016722013-10-01T06:01:00.001-07:002013-10-02T16:24:23.035-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Tulip TuesdayOn this wordless Wednesday it is my absolute privilege to share with you our {muddy} toddler and baby adventure to the Tesselaar Tulip Festival. I think you will agree that the brilliant colour of the tulips speak louder than any words. <div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOawjhNUPkuxRdopBP0gYGAvOC6qG0kzY8TTQ1gyWJgkNg-m2x_UNha6ZoKflUTeWzWlAlTQWz7YP-sRbEMpse7VbO07wRhkAoQi7h-yp0W_VVeIKNgyHHTQQeMpbNs3pF2mMLnIFCyJQ/s640/blogger-image--1341692190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxOawjhNUPkuxRdopBP0gYGAvOC6qG0kzY8TTQ1gyWJgkNg-m2x_UNha6ZoKflUTeWzWlAlTQWz7YP-sRbEMpse7VbO07wRhkAoQi7h-yp0W_VVeIKNgyHHTQQeMpbNs3pF2mMLnIFCyJQ/s640/blogger-image--1341692190.jpg"></a></div>Family road trip to Tesselaar Tulip Farm.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuXzteqoZqhjn5yXYCXeXw0mhg3YskS-0qmI5Vnd_uc3vN8Wnrn5WxuYCeQd52vKcYNiOYn3q-avbiDDd1QQwaO4-7TxQFVA3MjT2yUD9xgkpodPVQEuFVnv3TDlTd24A6xjHrOsA2VDd/s640/blogger-image--408247154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuXzteqoZqhjn5yXYCXeXw0mhg3YskS-0qmI5Vnd_uc3vN8Wnrn5WxuYCeQd52vKcYNiOYn3q-avbiDDd1QQwaO4-7TxQFVA3MjT2yUD9xgkpodPVQEuFVnv3TDlTd24A6xjHrOsA2VDd/s640/blogger-image--408247154.jpg"></a></div>First stop: nappy change. Even the baby change and mothers room has tulips. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmhPgFWdv8snT3taqSyGi4EFeXnQ1g9xHAH96PBtVy_8ofswy-tV3DmdOASpwI-VMGfUwZSRHLNajVKayvRWrmCxBJukqU6iDoMPaiP5z5toqsMq1qVfeFEylCgqizE7Hd_x6hYGFGPIn/s640/blogger-image-2059404919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYmhPgFWdv8snT3taqSyGi4EFeXnQ1g9xHAH96PBtVy_8ofswy-tV3DmdOASpwI-VMGfUwZSRHLNajVKayvRWrmCxBJukqU6iDoMPaiP5z5toqsMq1qVfeFEylCgqizE7Hd_x6hYGFGPIn/s640/blogger-image-2059404919.jpg"></a></div>Rows and rows of beautiful tulips. What's your favourite colour? I liked the pink. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m_778ILcNYN-L9UQ_rwMY2V79EMYJWMggL_SUK6STlwjuqusL_7WPgJAHMPgjDRApJgRi0rvBQQ_yYCIiqH3eT3iThcaX5_pFjxsj1GNFN4IMkE0zRilPM2fRrIaWMJZvdcB8yh94GrT/s640/blogger-image--2130719724.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_m_778ILcNYN-L9UQ_rwMY2V79EMYJWMggL_SUK6STlwjuqusL_7WPgJAHMPgjDRApJgRi0rvBQQ_yYCIiqH3eT3iThcaX5_pFjxsj1GNFN4IMkE0zRilPM2fRrIaWMJZvdcB8yh94GrT/s640/blogger-image--2130719724.jpg"></a></div>Yellow tulips make me happy, says Noah.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVc7XeYTYdPsBS3pTBLsOCl9vy2EZ-S89fQEHEwJhdA4JoYiW-BTe6221q-EJpUrMEd2INPnvb7jq35tmoFHrhe305tlEtOL15aoEDi4nJhpSii2zE9RxXQNNCWBPkn32kIR7t0Ycuxix/s640/blogger-image-492777496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQVc7XeYTYdPsBS3pTBLsOCl9vy2EZ-S89fQEHEwJhdA4JoYiW-BTe6221q-EJpUrMEd2INPnvb7jq35tmoFHrhe305tlEtOL15aoEDi4nJhpSii2zE9RxXQNNCWBPkn32kIR7t0Ycuxix/s640/blogger-image-492777496.jpg"></a></div></div><div>Muddy puddles and tulips. Lets jump.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuo4cgN0pKcmYC8ZepDrMv17fNWk73cMnTD96AW1Tu4akI7mYRbh3BBHa362Qj9dl6uXN6gNRshbI_eyCoU9_zcGK5RZ3ZAP80mCVMhfPdha-BWWlo9paKDZpRGhGTUWXKGweaXqY7-yEn/s640/blogger-image-1986401454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuo4cgN0pKcmYC8ZepDrMv17fNWk73cMnTD96AW1Tu4akI7mYRbh3BBHa362Qj9dl6uXN6gNRshbI_eyCoU9_zcGK5RZ3ZAP80mCVMhfPdha-BWWlo9paKDZpRGhGTUWXKGweaXqY7-yEn/s640/blogger-image-1986401454.jpg"></a></div>Baby eats tulip.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeUbOZ_vNnySpKNlogekLjc8beOvjVVX_J-VdI_ss6llSPjueahnOkK-EGLdegLdWuHG5BIVpgerYuNi1FlJ21J3GuWSDhqNGLfj1OwKorMiQwcrWnZR7_CmFigXs7GpWzYXYgWbxnszG/s640/blogger-image-1136280608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaeUbOZ_vNnySpKNlogekLjc8beOvjVVX_J-VdI_ss6llSPjueahnOkK-EGLdegLdWuHG5BIVpgerYuNi1FlJ21J3GuWSDhqNGLfj1OwKorMiQwcrWnZR7_CmFigXs7GpWzYXYgWbxnszG/s640/blogger-image-1136280608.jpg"></a></div></div><div>Wild wind tulip mess. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcY1UUdOqJZqPnezmAWDRULBhmWS4isNss5SbYeC6VqDgAd71_0lb2xX2VyAumQ2Gi_IHWHrwoWxQzF1hloJoxlhyphenhyphenc64XNqldXC9eLAJhEXIM8NA3CoUTphSSIVPjBlXbOP7mZHSWvcZ4_/s640/blogger-image--441702000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcY1UUdOqJZqPnezmAWDRULBhmWS4isNss5SbYeC6VqDgAd71_0lb2xX2VyAumQ2Gi_IHWHrwoWxQzF1hloJoxlhyphenhyphenc64XNqldXC9eLAJhEXIM8NA3CoUTphSSIVPjBlXbOP7mZHSWvcZ4_/s640/blogger-image--441702000.jpg"></a></div>Very muddy boots. Don't forget your boots, if you plan on heading out to the festival. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bx69QkIPu-OdljT4CfqPrVoIkSRKpWOiN5hfkkt6KD0lNDA7NREZ9KRc0v9z8H7zdsVeBuZecycjuG6glQX4FRQstdq2Shm8N_TDGQhYg-c72uAJGyjyCnTd4Vz_Bgil5jCR-6g5gu6a/s640/blogger-image--1850124835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_bx69QkIPu-OdljT4CfqPrVoIkSRKpWOiN5hfkkt6KD0lNDA7NREZ9KRc0v9z8H7zdsVeBuZecycjuG6glQX4FRQstdq2Shm8N_TDGQhYg-c72uAJGyjyCnTd4Vz_Bgil5jCR-6g5gu6a/s640/blogger-image--1850124835.jpg"></a></div>No filter. Just Noah and some tulips.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-8ifwM8ALZQlY-833cWVtGeo4R8JqnNxDjmDk-7NR3XmhTqiRn6zY9BdIDK9FGPzYAWV7U7zudsTsSZ83_SKU5Z1Jh6jo25YctHyqe-DIRyz3pJwyhekQrildXIiVNm3zGCkezudlVRk/s640/blogger-image--1869429834.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ-8ifwM8ALZQlY-833cWVtGeo4R8JqnNxDjmDk-7NR3XmhTqiRn6zY9BdIDK9FGPzYAWV7U7zudsTsSZ83_SKU5Z1Jh6jo25YctHyqe-DIRyz3pJwyhekQrildXIiVNm3zGCkezudlVRk/s640/blogger-image--1869429834.jpg"></a></div>Paul Jamieson, the Music Man had the kids up and dancing. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAM8NTK5Q9R2SSm6wdfaALOBScykJClr6X0zarZ8abL4nBrE9w8voJD58qrOBd3roqfpuw0frDV15LpHLoesJXws-Uak3LyTYTSfs2BIdpjMyjhKYijEquAShf1l_AYF87tts_uIPwfdS/s640/blogger-image--518284200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAM8NTK5Q9R2SSm6wdfaALOBScykJClr6X0zarZ8abL4nBrE9w8voJD58qrOBd3roqfpuw0frDV15LpHLoesJXws-Uak3LyTYTSfs2BIdpjMyjhKYijEquAShf1l_AYF87tts_uIPwfdS/s640/blogger-image--518284200.jpg"></a></div>Fairy Monica story sharing in the garden. Look at that boy in the blue. Adorably excited. He is being the huffy puffy woof.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP6epPpcvPHNMjY6SXHadNushqJfYqVeIP7YGzK34oBxUekeoPNN0j5BFxen5u6dxEsmaYaJrze_m98FaS85dfYCOB5TlrhPr-fb4vvMM8aHJ-j__ogVv52Sa2XO631wWINtTR2ZAyX4Y/s640/blogger-image--1952307231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP6epPpcvPHNMjY6SXHadNushqJfYqVeIP7YGzK34oBxUekeoPNN0j5BFxen5u6dxEsmaYaJrze_m98FaS85dfYCOB5TlrhPr-fb4vvMM8aHJ-j__ogVv52Sa2XO631wWINtTR2ZAyX4Y/s640/blogger-image--1952307231.jpg"></a></div>Cute, beyond words. Come home with us little gnome, please.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UcVhpQVTobpCyB8QIVEsHuCSuYwBTBTPhe-VdjjUTrY9335klT8UGPI85jBFiXsrMgW41M-76xPK__3usPZSFs-zi-z6KmShUkEeMYHHMs7u6wrzMWWf2yJqiabYk1EU0fl0vCWT7OWc/s640/blogger-image--144354794.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4UcVhpQVTobpCyB8QIVEsHuCSuYwBTBTPhe-VdjjUTrY9335klT8UGPI85jBFiXsrMgW41M-76xPK__3usPZSFs-zi-z6KmShUkEeMYHHMs7u6wrzMWWf2yJqiabYk1EU0fl0vCWT7OWc/s640/blogger-image--144354794.jpg"></a></div>5 year old Saltwater Croc who would bite your fingers off if not for that tape around his snout, eep. Stand back Noah. Pretty cool Black Rock snake reptile zoo.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6REw80Tw20rIujM4KDZdYPiw322_3qN332ER6b3wn1AS9hD0nR2M_rBYIr8GSzhI-tzNKJiHQWaogtXZ7MeOpM_le9WdxhdS1g3WDBmQp8G1oSElq9bDU1FoQr-h-bnwml2K48tAAFXu7/s640/blogger-image--814696599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6REw80Tw20rIujM4KDZdYPiw322_3qN332ER6b3wn1AS9hD0nR2M_rBYIr8GSzhI-tzNKJiHQWaogtXZ7MeOpM_le9WdxhdS1g3WDBmQp8G1oSElq9bDU1FoQr-h-bnwml2K48tAAFXu7/s640/blogger-image--814696599.jpg"></a></div>Sand Wizard magic. Love the colours. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PtdwUTvIjluUZW0C5yxqlQ2tGKEalQgVVlfLZ_ElzGsn8JyoEXyShmY26Rd0yqlc00IyhonyA7urMsO-WKnaPINa3T0JNCIZxV6b1tGAkMFBgEZGERY7hcQrULxQLxBfMfDMwJLtbqmS/s640/blogger-image--1570895363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PtdwUTvIjluUZW0C5yxqlQ2tGKEalQgVVlfLZ_ElzGsn8JyoEXyShmY26Rd0yqlc00IyhonyA7urMsO-WKnaPINa3T0JNCIZxV6b1tGAkMFBgEZGERY7hcQrULxQLxBfMfDMwJLtbqmS/s640/blogger-image--1570895363.jpg"></a></div>Noah took this shot. Pretty good shot little man.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7WkEw6xnqXB4gAbEOFnJcPJziIkKhW8MxTJ2VmAH_rd6NExw59WqLqDhxouy1k46LDywt083DbeU0c2_19ZOm8qnvhSeAtcUGVIPZoT5nWmoL8wV1Z-keXnj4IDsTCH5csMjWfsVU2pM/s640/blogger-image--558894998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS7WkEw6xnqXB4gAbEOFnJcPJziIkKhW8MxTJ2VmAH_rd6NExw59WqLqDhxouy1k46LDywt083DbeU0c2_19ZOm8qnvhSeAtcUGVIPZoT5nWmoL8wV1Z-keXnj4IDsTCH5csMjWfsVU2pM/s640/blogger-image--558894998.jpg"></a></div>He had fun {don't mind the runny nose}.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlkbG00ShGlDdHURnZi2IadkD9IThcmr1Sk3B5ICrtxCBx7Dbn3QAGkCUnwdClWmeBqYSaYYIKbMX8BS72XMv1BYCJ75iVz7lkIk4wf1bzce52P3e6GcLrQJtYC_JjnRiA-NMa_SVIeb7/s640/blogger-image-287834433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBlkbG00ShGlDdHURnZi2IadkD9IThcmr1Sk3B5ICrtxCBx7Dbn3QAGkCUnwdClWmeBqYSaYYIKbMX8BS72XMv1BYCJ75iVz7lkIk4wf1bzce52P3e6GcLrQJtYC_JjnRiA-NMa_SVIeb7/s640/blogger-image-287834433.jpg"></a></div>And this little gnome came home with us. Best gift shop picking by Noah xx</div><div><br></div><div>The Tesselaar tulip Festival runs until the 6th October 2013. The children's events finish this Thursday, 3rd October. </div><div><br></div><div>Thank you to Little Melbourne for our tulip passes. As you can see, we had a fabulous day and we will be back again next year. </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div>For more information, see:</div><div><span style="font-family: '.HelveticaNeueUI'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">http://www.tulipfestival.com.au/events/childrens-day/</span></div><div><br></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-30372982310301780652013-09-30T02:49:00.001-07:002013-09-30T09:08:20.920-07:00A Pretty, Bloggy Makeover.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhMJyB95leKCuNlLMoHfhBVv7IM-kVs84Qdk06jYvbuOcozJ2DD-B9SIi1X7NV8mg1kcIl_gJ8RnDtsb6VlBTmKqmcYudx6WBTELrkOyWMAGZa-Hqvw4YZvqreqRP5oN6Usk4_qCIqx2Z/s640/blogger-image-1641169940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhMJyB95leKCuNlLMoHfhBVv7IM-kVs84Qdk06jYvbuOcozJ2DD-B9SIi1X7NV8mg1kcIl_gJ8RnDtsb6VlBTmKqmcYudx6WBTELrkOyWMAGZa-Hqvw4YZvqreqRP5oN6Usk4_qCIqx2Z/s640/blogger-image-1641169940.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Yikes. Poppies for Me has had a pretty makeover. And l</span>ike an ol' fashion working bee, a team of amazing pretties have worked their little bumblebums off to create a whole lot of pretty.</div></div><div><br></div><div>And just like when you get a new hair over, I cant stop friggn' touching it. Ooo. Whats this button do? How do I turn that? Where does this take me?</div><div><br></div><div>Touch, touch, touch.<br><div><br></div><div>And can I just say... You were all very patient and kind to ignore the previous mess and chaos of Poppies for Me. </div><div><br></div><div>So, hugely and honestly thank you! </div><div><br></div><div>So... now that Poppies is looking a little fresher, brighter and happier, let me invite you in for a click and peek. </div><div><br></div><div>Ill put the kettle on while you click away.</div><div><br></div><div>Oops, the kettles boiled. How did you go? Its pretty, right? Do you love it, like me...?</div><div><br></div><div>...On that note, a HUGE thank you must go to the brilliant and amazingly talented, graphic design genious Zoe from Love & Adore Stationary. She is responsible for that pretty new banner logo. That one up there... See it? </div><div><br></div><div>I'd highly recommend Zoe for your every design need. If you have a party, or event coming up, Zoe is your custom design invitation gal. You can find her contact details here:</div><div><br></div><div><a href="https://www.facebook.com/loveandadorestationery">https://www.facebook.com/loveandadorestationery</a></div><div><br></div><div>Here's a snapshot of her other pretties:</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeftm7WHZC6jHA4ILk2wk0nyRFHyPv25FofE2md1OaGMrAZhyXSYCDHoNdOqg0ubC9oHgacT9PEH0-5hG-eF5k_-6pqgcQXjv_PEnu_KZvKM3QAOIm61iBGmMxLHQF-OYpO_RIwrWqkBtz/s640/blogger-image--819953201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeftm7WHZC6jHA4ILk2wk0nyRFHyPv25FofE2md1OaGMrAZhyXSYCDHoNdOqg0ubC9oHgacT9PEH0-5hG-eF5k_-6pqgcQXjv_PEnu_KZvKM3QAOIm61iBGmMxLHQF-OYpO_RIwrWqkBtz/s640/blogger-image--819953201.jpg"></a></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3DC3WxFWdefdEwxM7zJI743y6XUald_wxWWpk7MqTAWTVePRHlIz-KQA8YIBA-lQGicYJabUDhekBib1D3buEE3cxMQSl4FQ88HDs5p_4I7k2cljudpOxEfXxwDF_pR6I0SzCf77Mn-QK/s640/blogger-image--367468657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3DC3WxFWdefdEwxM7zJI743y6XUald_wxWWpk7MqTAWTVePRHlIz-KQA8YIBA-lQGicYJabUDhekBib1D3buEE3cxMQSl4FQ88HDs5p_4I7k2cljudpOxEfXxwDF_pR6I0SzCf77Mn-QK/s640/blogger-image--367468657.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjml_DHDWThme_CZBUcKVCgmfEZ3mi12x5nQo4SjNbH0gtky5Eii74Yw4A4kw-Fex9ueGISocfl8sEP7r-5TIIDh3lAaPYW6LfqdiXZToRTuImzjAFglJWWk1WNk7OYMBEZFRJKY9F9VJiw/s640/blogger-image-1761402751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjml_DHDWThme_CZBUcKVCgmfEZ3mi12x5nQo4SjNbH0gtky5Eii74Yw4A4kw-Fex9ueGISocfl8sEP7r-5TIIDh3lAaPYW6LfqdiXZToRTuImzjAFglJWWk1WNk7OYMBEZFRJKY9F9VJiw/s640/blogger-image-1761402751.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EHOsuI4t5cn3LCa49rDuyChrGrr8MfSoHh68Rm_tiuIGvU9fiy0JbmV3Fz5G8xSyVUD7z-P96_Btbx07CHwf2Ac-f-JH0nTh3AcZe0NhjXdy61slQJiYpNGXJ-JtIDxXKHgr7Ld0qZ-k/s640/blogger-image--279004038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EHOsuI4t5cn3LCa49rDuyChrGrr8MfSoHh68Rm_tiuIGvU9fiy0JbmV3Fz5G8xSyVUD7z-P96_Btbx07CHwf2Ac-f-JH0nTh3AcZe0NhjXdy61slQJiYpNGXJ-JtIDxXKHgr7Ld0qZ-k/s640/blogger-image--279004038.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaciZQSBucM6Rr0tOA_E6ym9aUq8kvBCTc5FKYB6VOD59wVKDxgthkwodmRy_QI2O5uceMc0NadVOMZv3OACdU0178H9UBShl13v1Mtv9Nk7VrP_lAyl5cisT9tGA8L3deR6TFgxOOURld/s640/blogger-image--1923519428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaciZQSBucM6Rr0tOA_E6ym9aUq8kvBCTc5FKYB6VOD59wVKDxgthkwodmRy_QI2O5uceMc0NadVOMZv3OACdU0178H9UBShl13v1Mtv9Nk7VrP_lAyl5cisT9tGA8L3deR6TFgxOOURld/s640/blogger-image--1923519428.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_pHp0ht7iqbLhK8ILsYhCOeXwLnPeJIhfpE-NjvqKiALMEQ5pxiEgf2GBeNY27n4dwCGBEf0P5vsgipUDEsYcETtM9J5RC9B-zbyUnf9mjQQF_-9agBAf-wCKiV7qc43VaFd1Z2-egJ7/s640/blogger-image--448884068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq_pHp0ht7iqbLhK8ILsYhCOeXwLnPeJIhfpE-NjvqKiALMEQ5pxiEgf2GBeNY27n4dwCGBEf0P5vsgipUDEsYcETtM9J5RC9B-zbyUnf9mjQQF_-9agBAf-wCKiV7qc43VaFd1Z2-egJ7/s640/blogger-image--448884068.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_o2NBO5miESnSRzRnwR1iGMr92HYXPtf8qYvuIXaTR5xV58WbmOnKLQZfXZN0brclffLZpWWTPiUz5uCw3-qVy-lPriO1IQC0bs8HLEuiSvCwPWPycOpkYDvQZEthrShFTb85BsRqCdt/s640/blogger-image-112749842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_o2NBO5miESnSRzRnwR1iGMr92HYXPtf8qYvuIXaTR5xV58WbmOnKLQZfXZN0brclffLZpWWTPiUz5uCw3-qVy-lPriO1IQC0bs8HLEuiSvCwPWPycOpkYDvQZEthrShFTb85BsRqCdt/s640/blogger-image-112749842.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And also, the hugest of thanks goes to my bestest, bestest friend Elissah (soon to be) Hill. She pretty much rocks my world and is without doubt responsible for all this pretty blog magic. She is the best. I wish you could all meet her because I just know you would all love her just as much as I do. Maybe a photo would help, here she is:</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Nn1yiM8DmczAA8YM7xhXst3Sha80sD8RcNGSp-giT4y-XsMlYc0QimBmcbrQ9QfoFElzHkQSuVH4z-LOiMxeftoNhDxpZtqjSYMTpgngUwLGz5ju9TFbl30akflwUMfX-BB1wEEvW5g9/s640/blogger-image-1881993943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Nn1yiM8DmczAA8YM7xhXst3Sha80sD8RcNGSp-giT4y-XsMlYc0QimBmcbrQ9QfoFElzHkQSuVH4z-LOiMxeftoNhDxpZtqjSYMTpgngUwLGz5ju9TFbl30akflwUMfX-BB1wEEvW5g9/s640/blogger-image-1881993943.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And so again, a HUGE thank you to all for ignoring the previous mess. And thank you again to Zoe and Elissah. And my family. And my mum. And God and Buddah and the poppies and for the coffee. Thank you. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Have I forgotten anyone?!? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">As always, I look forward to hearing your thoughts and feedback. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-3968164355635587302013-09-28T06:30:00.001-07:002013-09-30T03:28:33.685-07:00Meet our Beagle, Barkly.<div>
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We have a beagle named Barkly. </div>
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We adopted him in between child 1 and child 2 when he was 4 months old from a couple who adored him but "couldn't quite keep up with him." Points for honesty. Why on earth I thought we could keep up with him still confuses me to this very day.</div>
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The discussion of getting a dog took place over many days and nights. It went on for months and months. Husband was for. I was against. And toddler was dog crazy. So, I gave in and we got a dog. On the proviso that we adopted a dog. A dog who needed us! </div>
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It was close to a year ago when this all happened. His photo appeared on gumtree with the caption "looking for a loving family". I had found our dog. We opened our hearts and closed our ears to those with doggy wisdom:</div>
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"Beagles are terrors... Too smart for their own good... Stubborn... Diggers... Howlers... Chewers... Pack animals." </div>
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"Don't get a beagle." </div>
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"Do. Not. Get. A. Beagle."</div>
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"Ah, whatever." I said as I shrugged my shoulders. It's a dog. A dog has nothing on raising a newborn. I can do that. I can raise a dog. How naive I was.</div>
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So, I saw the add and literally less than 2 hours later, we had our beagle in the car. Licking my face. Ripping at the door. Slobbering on the window. Howling in the wind. Chewing at the seatbelt. Grabbing Noah's hands. Jumping on my legs. Destroying his first pair of tights. </div>
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Ah. Love.</div>
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There are many stories that I can share with you about our beagle, Barkly. Like the time I felt the squish of his freshly laid midnight hallway poo squelch between my toes.</div>
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Squish. </div>
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Or the time he ate the tv antenna cable. That was fun. No tv for a week. Smile.</div>
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Or the time he wrapped himself around a pole and then played dead. Or maybe the time I thought he was actually dead. Or the time I wanted him dead {anonymous noise complaint, anyone?}</div>
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And then there is his chewing. Not that I am keeping count or anything but he has destroyed with his chewing so many things that I actually wished I'd kept a visual diary of his chewed accomplishments, including;</div>
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-his own five star kennel with sliding Perspex window.</div>
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-two doggy heshian {and probably organic} dog floor cushions </div>
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-5 gardening pots</div>
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-a broom and 2 buckets</div>
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-the trash, all sorts of trash</div>
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-my mums water fountain</div>
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-all things bike; a bike carrier, a bike seat, a bike bell, a bike pump and a pair of bike shoes. He likes bikes.</div>
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-someone elses workboots</div>
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-an endless supply of my knickers {both dirty and clean}</div>
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-his own ID collar {how? i do not know}</div>
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-and a maternity top. Being pregnant that chew made me cry. </div>
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Oh, and I nearly forgot, the trampoline pads on Christmas morning. Merry Christmas Noah. </div>
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Oh shit. This list is crazy. </div>
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He has chewed alot. And so that's our dog, Barkly. He likes taking you for a walk, munching on soggy soiled nappies, digging in the garden, splashing at the beach, sniffing other dogs bums, howling by night, sleeping by day, playing dead and chewing everything but his very own posh dog toys. </div>
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Just as everyone promised. </div>
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Who on earth would want a beagle?</div>
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Us, that's who! Because besides all his flaws, he is pretty perfect in our eyes. A loyal canine mate who keeps us on our toes and grinning from ear to ear. </div>
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Love Jo xxx</div>
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Do you have a dog? What has your dog chewed? Any tips for us to stop the chew?</div>
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Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-24782132884359000922013-09-27T04:05:00.001-07:002013-09-30T00:26:31.623-07:00We see, we do: feel the dino-ROAR at Watergardens Town Centre<div>To kick of the first delights in the city tab do is the Dinosaur Adventures exhibit at Watergardens Town Centre. Roar.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYv67_TDNABZVITe4HY12fvNbyFDqUzN0A0Pv_FCYAVGal95iVftzqW4JTWAWGZEpXeBg8o9JHOjVxYtVo6z_9M7T5l10JZ3Ow8tFpZnA2oQt8GVRPtqMEwjwQuTc0EkkB3W823I82rJCJ/s640/blogger-image-1837895389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYv67_TDNABZVITe4HY12fvNbyFDqUzN0A0Pv_FCYAVGal95iVftzqW4JTWAWGZEpXeBg8o9JHOjVxYtVo6z_9M7T5l10JZ3Ow8tFpZnA2oQt8GVRPtqMEwjwQuTc0EkkB3W823I82rJCJ/s640/blogger-image-1837895389.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>Dinosaur adventures is a fun and interactive exhibit, which takes keen palaeontologists on a journey of the prehistoric life through the Triassic period. Dinosaurs are popular in our house, so when we headed out to Watergardens Town Centre for the preview dinosaur adventures event we had one very excited little explorer on our hands.</div>
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The dinosaurs were nestled amongst the shoppers and were just waiting to be found. We set off on foot with our guide, treasure map and binoculars to discover the dinosaurs in the mall. First, we spotted a dinosaur car wreck, then we waved to a noisy triceratops. We found the almighty t-Rex but a tiny dimetrodon stole our hearts. Dinosaur cute-ness. Beyond the exhibit, the little explorers were led on a interactive fossil dig, a scrumptious dinosaur lunch and a photo opportunity in the dinosaur egg. <div><br></div><div>All in all, Noah was totally captivated by the dinosaurs and mesmerised by their size. It was a fun exhibit and educational too as we discovered new Dino facts along the way. </div><div><br></div><div>The show runs from 23rd September until 13th October. So, what are you waiting for? Go hear the roar at Watergardens Town Centre! Psst. Don't forget to grab your dinosaur treasure map from the Dino Branch as there is a chance to win a $100 dinosaur prize pack.</div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx<br>
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Address: 399 Melton Highway, Taylors Lakes, Victoria, 3038<br>
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Website: www.watergardens.com.au<br>
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Cost: Dinosaur exhibit is free.<br>Fossil dig is $5. Photographic souvenirs are $12 each.<br><br></div><div>Thank you to Watergardens Town Center for our very special invitation!<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReJ6KibxFHPPAjI8Dy0sEwYvKRvoinxRk7JEybQg09gjiRKuTLrf905j5nJhn9ftB0FzoMGQg-3bDCZE0zAkhSC4VUcpy5U_HYkL6uvTaDXCxd4r_x0QgbhD6lon7H24YbcAyje383RO9/s640/blogger-image-2080167685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReJ6KibxFHPPAjI8Dy0sEwYvKRvoinxRk7JEybQg09gjiRKuTLrf905j5nJhn9ftB0FzoMGQg-3bDCZE0zAkhSC4VUcpy5U_HYkL6uvTaDXCxd4r_x0QgbhD6lon7H24YbcAyje383RO9/s640/blogger-image-2080167685.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPDiM5LZodjIThmi5bgVVlPv6OqpfN7PKUudUnxWtr4zHC5IRgs8pUPJT9Aj3rP3usaIu6SRud0Y7AwL07jtYRUG6KX8LmQwU23nF6w-9wBdgmqNwQ6coGw-F7SrGU1aOOOUhPtFmUSJW/s640/blogger-image--1816860762.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPDiM5LZodjIThmi5bgVVlPv6OqpfN7PKUudUnxWtr4zHC5IRgs8pUPJT9Aj3rP3usaIu6SRud0Y7AwL07jtYRUG6KX8LmQwU23nF6w-9wBdgmqNwQ6coGw-F7SrGU1aOOOUhPtFmUSJW/s640/blogger-image--1816860762.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvum7CGpM1bnMf7a_9pk1a3MQYMtHCMjpniNG60eiQSR5CLNeryomxKbuTfGgBQb3UqEa3NXDqxOucfQYwm654oJy63WCgKlah0CvuMVAZGpRtCuBLt3V_M7ShDPa5ps6DGsltvks0Z9m/s640/blogger-image--1628737521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTvum7CGpM1bnMf7a_9pk1a3MQYMtHCMjpniNG60eiQSR5CLNeryomxKbuTfGgBQb3UqEa3NXDqxOucfQYwm654oJy63WCgKlah0CvuMVAZGpRtCuBLt3V_M7ShDPa5ps6DGsltvks0Z9m/s640/blogger-image--1628737521.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJQ2sjPKdqovV7iLYQrseXKz-8NwDoFkR5v87ByTIq3ZA1h3r_3_PR_916M0UCTnkJ7-P52erzeBBRCxC0K_ECSI4vl3I31gQO-lr-NsKmyOQU93tYPK6FiuzjL6YEnkZcKR-Mu2DK8nQ/s640/blogger-image-852377940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAJQ2sjPKdqovV7iLYQrseXKz-8NwDoFkR5v87ByTIq3ZA1h3r_3_PR_916M0UCTnkJ7-P52erzeBBRCxC0K_ECSI4vl3I31gQO-lr-NsKmyOQU93tYPK6FiuzjL6YEnkZcKR-Mu2DK8nQ/s640/blogger-image-852377940.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7_DEhRRR_N3cyQLiXRfwUdR64cuxFqL48rM9bkhxmBWOnmRX1hzsfNzaFVPHX_4uoWUtoDUqvdd6zcaiDVL5bMQVwa3HSnzsM178-3tEN5Vw_MQQHvMRsqPbbaD4td6vTm9E28kx5BcU/s640/blogger-image-1848616276.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7_DEhRRR_N3cyQLiXRfwUdR64cuxFqL48rM9bkhxmBWOnmRX1hzsfNzaFVPHX_4uoWUtoDUqvdd6zcaiDVL5bMQVwa3HSnzsM178-3tEN5Vw_MQQHvMRsqPbbaD4td6vTm9E28kx5BcU/s640/blogger-image-1848616276.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-68610599105464470032013-09-25T00:28:00.001-07:002013-09-30T00:25:32.949-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Showtime TuesdayI share with you our nighttime adventures at the Royal Melbourne Show because I think the show is prettiest by night. The lights, the sounds, the fireworks and carnival folk. Oh, and the smell of red bull in the air {okay, thats not so great}. <div><br></div><div>The show at night is magical. </div><div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tGr5yFvlhcnpYlTGCXRdUuR62R8-G8k7wsTH-EMyIygIy8m_4MekL8mbeeQU4OvDTKI58JHu8w1X3JvutaeXkC94d6XSnKUouFxwWQUH9ugAL1X0VoBcm-SZ_8tTRSKDrk1qUI5QV6gN/s640/blogger-image--1251126453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tGr5yFvlhcnpYlTGCXRdUuR62R8-G8k7wsTH-EMyIygIy8m_4MekL8mbeeQU4OvDTKI58JHu8w1X3JvutaeXkC94d6XSnKUouFxwWQUH9ugAL1X0VoBcm-SZ_8tTRSKDrk1qUI5QV6gN/s640/blogger-image--1251126453.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HGWR1qEaCrVqSoTZNBLpfzB6Hjs4BXCVb1YzJ3aVduqepHULJu-rECxvkh4GgJw4YFI10OEcQWbZAnZeS8-1CrojhNbQQaXiydkbOM4_Eql_En-FqpKE9ZUbwRBhAbrz99-enRS0DTVk/s640/blogger-image-1812631513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9HGWR1qEaCrVqSoTZNBLpfzB6Hjs4BXCVb1YzJ3aVduqepHULJu-rECxvkh4GgJw4YFI10OEcQWbZAnZeS8-1CrojhNbQQaXiydkbOM4_Eql_En-FqpKE9ZUbwRBhAbrz99-enRS0DTVk/s640/blogger-image-1812631513.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMe861PRhw6zPaGPZZ_m7dizzDj0hM93buX1kitzOh8BvLHJpQMTDjc3EBgsHaISsHk9HTI1AUZJyKDJPzv1yUQ_dc7fqNAsT1llieWR84ZObr9vjKJ_FFubjzUD0NJd7iVBMA8OurmYLU/s640/blogger-image-1637668439.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMe861PRhw6zPaGPZZ_m7dizzDj0hM93buX1kitzOh8BvLHJpQMTDjc3EBgsHaISsHk9HTI1AUZJyKDJPzv1yUQ_dc7fqNAsT1llieWR84ZObr9vjKJ_FFubjzUD0NJd7iVBMA8OurmYLU/s640/blogger-image-1637668439.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxjtvxw4tKW6VEY5pbV7u4iH3kyDmEm2rCVOWIMbfNKZHu69zM28Vbi4eDLIp3uNzUNyA7zn4xNSKF8jnszMoR27V05QmVjIWETLoRupbAeX0l1WgNhdsEOtvvF4CbLN-KLmfoaNClwO8/s640/blogger-image--1188549601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxjtvxw4tKW6VEY5pbV7u4iH3kyDmEm2rCVOWIMbfNKZHu69zM28Vbi4eDLIp3uNzUNyA7zn4xNSKF8jnszMoR27V05QmVjIWETLoRupbAeX0l1WgNhdsEOtvvF4CbLN-KLmfoaNClwO8/s640/blogger-image--1188549601.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIbTHLKPs8vmUlA0s_gezWS7JrGY2dn87tSLEjG_B6X5snSLMCfrohqkMJJ0CHvS9aIJFbjsLhV28qkBlhp3u2bQ0g-UM-JxNGf3ONhmjVAjU0LUA7YzQ4pWINqEeXlompUrtT73f-IRU/s640/blogger-image--1966186513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXIbTHLKPs8vmUlA0s_gezWS7JrGY2dn87tSLEjG_B6X5snSLMCfrohqkMJJ0CHvS9aIJFbjsLhV28qkBlhp3u2bQ0g-UM-JxNGf3ONhmjVAjU0LUA7YzQ4pWINqEeXlompUrtT73f-IRU/s640/blogger-image--1966186513.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHljcyaaQT8K1S07hISDfKgt98whSqQZb02MOBtARaw-N-QwzwWqkBDuBPyz1BRTz1amYnBdp8adCSdPCKoXYBG-Smx3zz1nv9hfzIeKQoK6CAAWuakF_d80N_Jqc_R-ZU7zwQsv2XBCF/s640/blogger-image--93901392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHljcyaaQT8K1S07hISDfKgt98whSqQZb02MOBtARaw-N-QwzwWqkBDuBPyz1BRTz1amYnBdp8adCSdPCKoXYBG-Smx3zz1nv9hfzIeKQoK6CAAWuakF_d80N_Jqc_R-ZU7zwQsv2XBCF/s640/blogger-image--93901392.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T1sg8pVbh0G_pDK9tbBmcuCevzUkCf8NAysbQHUIIgJzqbWemoWIJcgSHP1o6pD6kyoQgdxfGLBVRjAZBbhZTZ78Em7k5A77Q9A3Wd4q4uDsXETyz16pLrwie1OFR80p5-QNocFV07P2/s640/blogger-image--1550459000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T1sg8pVbh0G_pDK9tbBmcuCevzUkCf8NAysbQHUIIgJzqbWemoWIJcgSHP1o6pD6kyoQgdxfGLBVRjAZBbhZTZ78Em7k5A77Q9A3Wd4q4uDsXETyz16pLrwie1OFR80p5-QNocFV07P2/s640/blogger-image--1550459000.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Royal Melbourne Show. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">21st September - 2nd October 2013</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Do you love the show by day or night best? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love Jo xxx</div></div></div></div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-2060833478271836652013-09-22T21:18:00.001-07:002013-09-23T03:58:37.140-07:00Could we, should we move to the countryside?<div>I love the country. I love getting back to nature, breathing in the country fresh air, enjoying the quiet and watching our boy be a boy, a real boy. </div><div><br></div><div>So, when our dearest friends invited us to their parents farm, we didn't need much convincing. We were there! Their farm grows Canola. Canola? It's all the yellow, I was told. Eep, city chick! <span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">And right now, Canola puts on a very pretty show. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">I was in love.</span> </div><div><br></div><div>And it didn't take long for me to start pondering; should we, could we move to the country?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-GbFTnOOqNBCQu1OV7RZjyof0QPNthaIKyppilk0vwKBJMCuVRamfAXBtIVXHVSXYRY6l37bDsK5OGuSTb8rAo7nwbzSIevwlwLz_PtwH0SnkhZCEev1vyTEaGZcMhlZPlqs92eebuZC/s640/blogger-image-363660157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-GbFTnOOqNBCQu1OV7RZjyof0QPNthaIKyppilk0vwKBJMCuVRamfAXBtIVXHVSXYRY6l37bDsK5OGuSTb8rAo7nwbzSIevwlwLz_PtwH0SnkhZCEev1vyTEaGZcMhlZPlqs92eebuZC/s640/blogger-image-363660157.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">There are so many things that attract me to moving to the country. The people, the wide open space and green grass, the idea of growing an </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">organic veggie patch, the community spirit, </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">the small schools, the farmers markets, the chance for the boys to run in the paddocks and the way your heart rate slows.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">But is this what living in the country is?</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Hay Day would have you believe it is. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Swipe. Feed the chickens.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">Flick. Harvest the crops.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">Slide. Paint the house.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">Swipe. Sell your goods at the market.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">Tap. Empty the silo. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYL-AImddIubdKZpRAP9Un3sDkhJn3clrq2CMvS4606ibSSN7B_ZZw1tYHmI29v2kp1sQlo2BcI-EVkTUoXiBVKzsJDRVG-x7q89AMsEVKc6CWUhW3Srv4doEqjBfwjrM9yVJc_hx8JKU/s640/blogger-image-1634947661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYL-AImddIubdKZpRAP9Un3sDkhJn3clrq2CMvS4606ibSSN7B_ZZw1tYHmI29v2kp1sQlo2BcI-EVkTUoXiBVKzsJDRVG-x7q89AMsEVKc6CWUhW3Srv4doEqjBfwjrM9yVJc_hx8JKU/s640/blogger-image-1634947661.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">A fully thriving farm. But, as fun as Hey Day is, of course, it is not reality. But I am left wondering what is it like to live in the countryside? What is this rural lifestyle? My country snapshots leave me longing for more but could we really do it? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">I spent the entire car trip back to the city quizzing myself: Could I commute to the city for work? What school could the kids go to? What is the nearest hospital? The closest shops? And would the locals like us and would we like them? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Holy shit, my head is a busy place. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">I </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">was told, "there's nothing glamorous about living in the country." And I believe this to be true. But city living isn't always glamorous either. So, I ask you all. All you country folk, both present and past, who have lived, are living or are planning to live in the country, what is this country life? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">T</span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">ell me. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Tell me all </span><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">about fixing the fences, milking the cows, the horrid red dust and long drives. And then tell me about all the things you love too because for now, I'll be living this country dream through you. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div>Unless, of course there is a sudden and urgent call for a genetic counsellor, a teacher and there 2 beautiful boys to come to the country.</div></div><div><br></div><div>*waiting, waiting, waiting.</div><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);">Love Jo xxx</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAd2QDP64ik1YL6HzpUe-XlRk9cJ-Q80z5kzHJExw0Psm0blr9Z4Ub08ov8vMGgNoc2LWKT0oDk_jAQnVvmurqdzQubo4U9feVUYgjES3YUrWrJ_S8hEzwXaGwiH00gSN9rtkOxrX2ixpu/s640/blogger-image-1737286645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAd2QDP64ik1YL6HzpUe-XlRk9cJ-Q80z5kzHJExw0Psm0blr9Z4Ub08ov8vMGgNoc2LWKT0oDk_jAQnVvmurqdzQubo4U9feVUYgjES3YUrWrJ_S8hEzwXaGwiH00gSN9rtkOxrX2ixpu/s640/blogger-image-1737286645.jpg"></a></div></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Xfk6bWZfGGSubFlMPMIfiDJIXLX3dWfpuVqg-fO2ki5uw3QCi3iUBlLvbfYH5PbPz3dN6t2VZvQGx_moYcs9ImxxcDhPilaiNC1HlA04hyphenhyphendL9lYUofYvsZWGhibGwxyXCbbTxnJXn9OA/s640/blogger-image-1160609043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUXXn0VTHtRpaFkEMGnFFtA5DY9uShA5K-_Q6XRFE1rUm4K0I9reWzaUadhuCL1zV84vg4BAQNPb82qzfD8WXPG8q0_PHJe16SO3SWpjLgjieAkK8StU1Pkf5AxPcRajr4i2w1SHhg1Mv/s640/blogger-image--1052369631.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUXXn0VTHtRpaFkEMGnFFtA5DY9uShA5K-_Q6XRFE1rUm4K0I9reWzaUadhuCL1zV84vg4BAQNPb82qzfD8WXPG8q0_PHJe16SO3SWpjLgjieAkK8StU1Pkf5AxPcRajr4i2w1SHhg1Mv/s640/blogger-image--1052369631.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_0qHXf61fGK5RWBo0KFJ8QIb6ZXQpao3ami5YRwr63FPp1F7MDFKSXK8Y0VXUDv9wiQ37cx2oRTzv5_KD4kXQ6cZG8Z5eRwTnU8mRtFkDHCbDxoncTkd9KEl879nekK3v-_dBqT25PFZ/s640/blogger-image-1799552566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_0qHXf61fGK5RWBo0KFJ8QIb6ZXQpao3ami5YRwr63FPp1F7MDFKSXK8Y0VXUDv9wiQ37cx2oRTzv5_KD4kXQ6cZG8Z5eRwTnU8mRtFkDHCbDxoncTkd9KEl879nekK3v-_dBqT25PFZ/s640/blogger-image-1799552566.jpg"></a></div><br></div></span></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-55015665873768626412013-09-19T04:12:00.001-07:002013-09-29T23:54:02.839-07:00Let your little ones imagination run wild with an afternoon at
Crafternoon.<p style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); "></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUn-BwVM_Or7brNZ6sxuzHJhLyDrW06ibQwfK3TGREUkqyGsXSSfSxO2JZOJmZFFbjeZWwNBRs-yTGBwF61d5QpUBie7fQj5pDnHVF6INUi2H1LAV_yIBGIkLzwuTb-XVsEPvyxUPf02qM/s640/blogger-image--1502639015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUn-BwVM_Or7brNZ6sxuzHJhLyDrW06ibQwfK3TGREUkqyGsXSSfSxO2JZOJmZFFbjeZWwNBRs-yTGBwF61d5QpUBie7fQj5pDnHVF6INUi2H1LAV_yIBGIkLzwuTb-XVsEPvyxUPf02qM/s640/blogger-image--1502639015.jpg"></a></div><p style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; "><br></span></p><p style="border: 0px; margin: 0px 0px 1em; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; "><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; ">It's not everyday that you find a cafe that ticks every box so when I find one that does I simply must share. I am talking about Crafternoon in Carlton North. Crafternoon is simply genius. As well as providing a delish menu with little appetites in mind, the cafe provides its very own craft menu, which includes; painting, play dough, pasting, badges and other special daily craft projects, including trinket boxes and crowns. </span></p><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As soon as we sat down we were welcomed by the friendly staff who promptly attended to my little mans every craft request. He opted for some painting and pasting. I opted for coffee and eggs. Delicious. As I sipped on my coffee, I watched him create his masterpieces. I provided the appropriate oohs and aahs (actually there was some good painting happening on this day) and then once we were all done the lovely crafternoon ladies cleaned up the crafty mess. Bless. This place is heaven and like I said it really does tick all the boxes with its yummy healthy treats, delicious coffee and crafty treats. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">High chair and change table available and prams are accommodated. It is a little cosy in there so I would highly recommend calling beforehand to make a reservation. There is 1 hour free street parking. </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Address: 531 Nicholson Street, Carlton North</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Love Jo xxx</span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="font-weight: bold; "><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DGUrd7vcbRokf3WLSI4F4FSvrLuw0toChijG0yh_uZWKltS9AXtgrWt-gbClUzrrRyh7FA_afQynpPBLmaz8qDlskyeyoL4J3X_QqjdYkUxozNhSaBY0ST6ClxXNZXB5DRZ5R9F8M8hm/s640/blogger-image-48282666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1DGUrd7vcbRokf3WLSI4F4FSvrLuw0toChijG0yh_uZWKltS9AXtgrWt-gbClUzrrRyh7FA_afQynpPBLmaz8qDlskyeyoL4J3X_QqjdYkUxozNhSaBY0ST6ClxXNZXB5DRZ5R9F8M8hm/s640/blogger-image-48282666.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKRdLiX7TohiQjKFGUiaFRLL_BUprqG9XCZ54mahvKv2t51Cxx8rlbvz3Wsvg59CPiPNomv0v1YOW-4UzDxP1pUBAp4L7iGD5_0shgaOIIHFiGafYgCWouhOQ3GJ3lZMqvpDEvFVMKtR7/s640/blogger-image--1039717200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKRdLiX7TohiQjKFGUiaFRLL_BUprqG9XCZ54mahvKv2t51Cxx8rlbvz3Wsvg59CPiPNomv0v1YOW-4UzDxP1pUBAp4L7iGD5_0shgaOIIHFiGafYgCWouhOQ3GJ3lZMqvpDEvFVMKtR7/s640/blogger-image--1039717200.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7JdHc-ZbG2OB2O1vRNnJcBvBGLrmAQpgowXQjsl-qAMgtTVriI9TaYxZB39SGFI8jHydfJdSKO9_RTRn82VZacAyZpporeTBpho3Lr423JZj1kXICba168jrNeMDs-H4QcxfGl2uo7sp/s640/blogger-image-1061619691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7JdHc-ZbG2OB2O1vRNnJcBvBGLrmAQpgowXQjsl-qAMgtTVriI9TaYxZB39SGFI8jHydfJdSKO9_RTRn82VZacAyZpporeTBpho3Lr423JZj1kXICba168jrNeMDs-H4QcxfGl2uo7sp/s640/blogger-image-1061619691.jpg"></a></div><br></div></span></div><p></p><p></p>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-79351228440190979192013-09-19T01:45:00.001-07:002013-09-19T02:27:53.840-07:00I forgot about my maths exam... Again.<div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcI9ndhHBeu2S__s7EKiJ3gAMH0usbW-YpTaA8WVZjEpDDk55HrCNdIgnlRGaUXEJMUMhc34cbP8RHONv4I1y3aI0jh01FlObApfXey29U0TkUxYgRLYGyPsCcdl7le3jwDKmrRAmlZmc/s640/blogger-image-885896932.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcI9ndhHBeu2S__s7EKiJ3gAMH0usbW-YpTaA8WVZjEpDDk55HrCNdIgnlRGaUXEJMUMhc34cbP8RHONv4I1y3aI0jh01FlObApfXey29U0TkUxYgRLYGyPsCcdl7le3jwDKmrRAmlZmc/s640/blogger-image-885896932.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Do you have a reoccurring dream?</div><div><br></div><div>I do.</div><div><br></div><div>It's a dream where I turn up for my year 12 maths exam. I open the paper and realise I am completely unprepared. I haven't been to a single maths class all year, in fact I had completely forgotten I was enrolled in the subject. I am sitting at a wooden desk staring at complex equations. And I start to panic. The dream always ends with me handing in an empty paper. And when I wake, I feel horrible.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjZey_8zaM60qL24FvF9yb2G9uFocpr_yCTQbZzn9m6eo6FfhKShf8rxcBiwXWfeDWTgnrG2lbx_srsg4WXGYQwxDFsSsRqzM44joduOZDFiufkQrrBMfg_TtsLh7rO3mjIKad6Ccg80D/s640/blogger-image-60424379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjZey_8zaM60qL24FvF9yb2G9uFocpr_yCTQbZzn9m6eo6FfhKShf8rxcBiwXWfeDWTgnrG2lbx_srsg4WXGYQwxDFsSsRqzM44joduOZDFiufkQrrBMfg_TtsLh7rO3mjIKad6Ccg80D/s640/blogger-image-60424379.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>So, what does this all mean? I don't quite know. What I do know is that I disliked maths in high school. It was my most challenging subject and one that my parents pumped a lot of money into additional tutoring for me. It was never an easy subject. But one I had to sit down and work hard at, unlike many of my friends. At uni, I farewelled all subjects related to mathematics, except statistics, which was kind of important given my job as a genetic counsellor. I married a maths teacher. And to this day, maths exams are constantly piled high on our kitchen table.</div><div><br></div><div>Sigh. If only, my maths teacher could see me now with all this maths around me.</div><div><br></div><div>So, it leaves me with this question. What on earth does this dream mean? Why do I keep dreaming about this exam? And why the hell am I not taking the classes?</div><div><br></div><div>I was once told that this dream expresses a fear of failure. An expressed feeling of being unprepared for the challenges in waking life. </div><div><br></div><div>Which, I admit might not be far from the truth. As this dream often appears at rather poignant life stressing times, like upcoming work commitments, assignment due dates, etc. But last night threw me somewhat. I wasn't aware of any looming life events. I thought I had everything under control. </div><div><br></div><div>Until dah. *Lightbulb moment. </div><div><br></div><div>I have been somewhat stressing about my upcoming return to work. Oh, who am I kidding I am totally flippn' out of my mind stressed about going back to work. Stressed about how I am going to manage two kids, turn up to work without a boob hanging out, do kinder drop offs and make kinder chit chat, run into day care with a backpack and a smile, fight off daycare vomit bugs, meet patient demands. Breast feed, exercise, dinner, dishes and everything in between. </div><div><br></div><div>Could this be what my dream is telling me? Is my dream screaming "hey dude, your stressed out of your eye balls about this balancing act? Wake up." Is this my personal challenge that I am feeling unprepared for? And is it possible that my subconscious, dream state knows me better than me? </div><div><br></div><div>Probably.</div><div><br></div><div>So, tell me am I crazy to be worried about all this? I have 2 and a bit months to sort my shit out. Tell me, what's your hot tips and flashy tricks for succeeding at being a working mum of two. Do you have a reoccurring dream? </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-52899952905394085602013-09-15T20:38:00.001-07:002013-09-15T21:20:36.115-07:00Boobs at the beach.Ah, Happy Monday everyone! <div><br></div><div>How was your weekend? </div><div><br></div><div>Ours was divine, minus the oh say, 16 hours of sleep we missed out on. </div><div><br></div><div>Thanks Jude! Amen for coffee. </div><div><br></div><div>Noah had his karate grading early Sunday morning. And he did very well despite my early morning fears that he would fall asleep mid machine gun kick. He impressed us and the judges too. He won most outstanding performance. Twice. </div><div><br></div><div>Eep, mummy gloat.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihH2Mj7mHOYW1DdlH4z0qh0tFeTo_BBdhZdowdTMlop8ucoPqJ7crVeEQ3eRnzBflrl3xkxNk_CgMOk0FnigR-pniz-CQmmVhGJyfMPPj7rBvsQ3Za17ZB4TS4FWh7cI8hjeySKjK1ZLKS/s640/blogger-image--639379298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihH2Mj7mHOYW1DdlH4z0qh0tFeTo_BBdhZdowdTMlop8ucoPqJ7crVeEQ3eRnzBflrl3xkxNk_CgMOk0FnigR-pniz-CQmmVhGJyfMPPj7rBvsQ3Za17ZB4TS4FWh7cI8hjeySKjK1ZLKS/s640/blogger-image--639379298.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrMz5EQr6yX6rVpFJVNe_cHpLvR0grqNeaHTmgOWrFhfDD72pp7IiPaaUMWu-Yn0b15dVyLWTi0n8RVn_oJuRwIziTPmsCSmw_b6LgXKk6eKeDIY_PCw7DdDo1-vKpvQ52xb6x1_nYAkN/s640/blogger-image-1187171192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrMz5EQr6yX6rVpFJVNe_cHpLvR0grqNeaHTmgOWrFhfDD72pp7IiPaaUMWu-Yn0b15dVyLWTi0n8RVn_oJuRwIziTPmsCSmw_b6LgXKk6eKeDIY_PCw7DdDo1-vKpvQ52xb6x1_nYAkN/s640/blogger-image-1187171192.jpg"></a></div></div><br></div></div><div>To celebrate, we all went to the beach. And when I say beach, I'm talking about some gritty sand and dirty water by the bay. There are no waves. The sand does not squeek. The shells are all shattered. And in the distance you can see a giant cargo ship dumping all sorts of toxins in the water. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbYcdxEVyX5IBny0AzOD4kEWxJ_GXY3OVYUIGr_dUKzIFYejfgfz9eOIE_vhCHFNkVTsmnZ16Is1go9N5RBpvvWXBTcTklo6taGOCBlfJezIsSjoYNCtRXqQv05cY4f-c5DExCokzzGNM/s640/blogger-image--1028126367.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfbYcdxEVyX5IBny0AzOD4kEWxJ_GXY3OVYUIGr_dUKzIFYejfgfz9eOIE_vhCHFNkVTsmnZ16Is1go9N5RBpvvWXBTcTklo6taGOCBlfJezIsSjoYNCtRXqQv05cY4f-c5DExCokzzGNM/s640/blogger-image--1028126367.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div>Welcome to Melbourne. We have it all, except a beach. We do have latte sipping on the sand though. That's a Melbourne thing right? A coffee cart at the beach? Only Melbourne, right? </div><div><br></div><div>Once upon a time, the beach was a place to relax. Read a book, catch a tan and eat hot chips whilst partaking in some people spotting. </div><div><br></div><div>And then we had kids. And that all became a distant memory. Distant. Distant. Memory. </div><div><br></div><div>Although, I did take my book. The five people you meet in heaven. Optimism right there. Who was I kidding?!? </div><div><br></div><div>There was no reading. Instead, Ill tell you what did happen. </div><div><br></div><div>We had a spot of lunch on the beach. Some overly packaged bakery delights plus a can of coca cola {pure class here boys and girls}. Whilst sipping from that cool cola, Jude face planted the sand. He cried and demanded boob. Previous experience had taught me breastfeeding on the beach is no fun. </div><div><br></div><div>The sand, the boob exposure, the fiddly hats, the slippery sun screen, the twisted bather top and the bloody sun. Not my idea of fun. So, we struggled through it together and once the boob was tucked away again, Noah decided he wanted to go for a splash. So off the boys went into the water, whilst I took some happy snaps. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXFbo6wx197K9_Ymza-dycBVmE7rzPrViSrGhLXOjqqEOtYJWtqWea0BhRPS6vnBge89qX_ZYBKdkRGoMxgqzA2etJElrbPih8W4WvrQnC9t5W3zfVFKxNpMRVgQylXDZFHmeKz96Ixlb/s640/blogger-image-1836074052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXFbo6wx197K9_Ymza-dycBVmE7rzPrViSrGhLXOjqqEOtYJWtqWea0BhRPS6vnBge89qX_ZYBKdkRGoMxgqzA2etJElrbPih8W4WvrQnC9t5W3zfVFKxNpMRVgQylXDZFHmeKz96Ixlb/s640/blogger-image-1836074052.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZz6B99pdBrY696jpviFL8_OQURByKus3f4Htx-tqH33bOOirUoMGX8QpMNFBytzNqV5Yei8wiymGilIoscGnXzYBTdmT-sz_jgYh0gH30AbcIiBh1xdwiP5SaIqci68LLXaPeDHUSoSn9/s640/blogger-image--978200797.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZz6B99pdBrY696jpviFL8_OQURByKus3f4Htx-tqH33bOOirUoMGX8QpMNFBytzNqV5Yei8wiymGilIoscGnXzYBTdmT-sz_jgYh0gH30AbcIiBh1xdwiP5SaIqci68LLXaPeDHUSoSn9/s640/blogger-image--978200797.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>After 5 minutes of splashing, Noah got ridiculoudly wet and decided he was too cold. Swimming was over and Jude cried. The boob came out again and I fed him some more. And then a huge gust of wind whipped along the shore. And you all know how much I hate wind. And with the wind went our overly packaged bakery scraps. </div><div><br></div><div>Tumbling across the sand and into the sea. I could see people shaking their heads, my head was shaking too but I had my boob out. What was I to do? Brad was nowhere in sight. </div><div><br></div><div>I had no choice but to run after the littered goods. I had brain images of dolphins choking on MY bakery pie and turtles tangled in MY cheesecake glad wrap and seals sipping on MY cola. And it was all going to be MY fault. Me, the litter bug. </div><div><br></div><div>It was too much. </div><div><br></div><div>I whipped the baby off the boob and made my dash. By this time, the litter was knee deep so I plunged into the seawater, denim jeans and all. I dived forward and retrieved the litter and made my way back up the beach. The beach spectators started to cheer. A lady congratulated me:</div><div><br></div><div>"Well done love."</div><div><br></div><div>Beach hero, is me. I sat back down feeling proud of MY efforts. How many sea animals had I just saved? And then I looked down. My boob was half hanging out of my top. And my baby tummy was out for all to see. What a sight it must have been. Me with my boob and tummy chasing MY litter...! </div><div><br></div><div>Brad returned back from the toilets with Noah and I said its time to go. </div><div><br></div><div>And that was our beach visit. </div><div><br></div><div>Boob and all. </div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtML0VDbAgnCMs1WzkCf3rW9aiM9aS3a2MsEu1PJq8CPsWGpB2QwTU_4beIue8Z2MlN_h-4DoqNnXwYhyphenhyphen9hk6u6DkDh35l56wf_HM5MLYsUlJujP4W5OlawH9vX7c3Dyh1I-2x1ZAwlfH/s640/blogger-image--1504643118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtML0VDbAgnCMs1WzkCf3rW9aiM9aS3a2MsEu1PJq8CPsWGpB2QwTU_4beIue8Z2MlN_h-4DoqNnXwYhyphenhyphen9hk6u6DkDh35l56wf_HM5MLYsUlJujP4W5OlawH9vX7c3Dyh1I-2x1ZAwlfH/s640/blogger-image--1504643118.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div>Do you love the beach? What tips do you have for surviving the beach with little ones? </div><div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-4583881359977556072013-09-10T22:18:00.001-07:002013-09-29T18:57:46.485-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Karate Ninja<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9RMihtYH318RfsmH_ljQ4Ri4V-Ehq7lEhc9ENO7Hd5ZdBf8wgXhEjN7LZKxUuO_EsYlPMcAYhkLIGamKxFrkAJ3DCav4n44DKkK_AlLxgSrxBIkqgNOqO-3w4fsNjx8OFXcHtrtxsmKf/s640/blogger-image-570356091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz9RMihtYH318RfsmH_ljQ4Ri4V-Ehq7lEhc9ENO7Hd5ZdBf8wgXhEjN7LZKxUuO_EsYlPMcAYhkLIGamKxFrkAJ3DCav4n44DKkK_AlLxgSrxBIkqgNOqO-3w4fsNjx8OFXcHtrtxsmKf/s640/blogger-image-570356091.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's Karate Week in our house. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Lots of upper blocks, machine gun kicks and other general ninja moves being practiced in our house. It's grading week.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Therefore, its yellow belt time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And so for my first ever Wordless Wednesday, I have dedicated this blog to a whole lot of pics of our little ninjas karate journey this far. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFuiwzg9lYSMyJAeWLt4YwnIo_UEtMzrfCf4zlwUaUSA3Ri8Rujhhdu32hXr_GWQAgeJja2smZgIxvO5pyEBW1o9jpl1FLpAhA5LRpRXl1_bGRV-DoptsO0-rGmmatfPaNjHh3k1s4caa/s640/blogger-image-1732628261.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFuiwzg9lYSMyJAeWLt4YwnIo_UEtMzrfCf4zlwUaUSA3Ri8Rujhhdu32hXr_GWQAgeJja2smZgIxvO5pyEBW1o9jpl1FLpAhA5LRpRXl1_bGRV-DoptsO0-rGmmatfPaNjHh3k1s4caa/s640/blogger-image-1732628261.jpg"></a></div>It began here: He looks so little.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSXjhQGPmQVJxgvpOLlYocMH7OeXQBi5N59PZRdW9IAggjAssKhAgf8SmS3IZBt3FeqxHQsRPMbRGy971ZlGFo9fcKggpbvjHLtDqcbftY-dBLoqG1pbo067DttUb4Ks46dIUol82n5KC/s640/blogger-image-988576852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSXjhQGPmQVJxgvpOLlYocMH7OeXQBi5N59PZRdW9IAggjAssKhAgf8SmS3IZBt3FeqxHQsRPMbRGy971ZlGFo9fcKggpbvjHLtDqcbftY-dBLoqG1pbo067DttUb4Ks46dIUol82n5KC/s640/blogger-image-988576852.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And I was shocked here. Yup, that's head gear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff9D94AUO1GJ_ZFbAIfNi05X5ZhAOuKlf7IOM-BQnaS4AlKuqfFNNx6RMbveVUY72YcX_iBtlbSo5bxpeEby03MrensNKt6isXeuHCW1E0qUrOPitjpfqdmGUiMCugajVTIbjarDhBfSK/s640/blogger-image-753536771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff9D94AUO1GJ_ZFbAIfNi05X5ZhAOuKlf7IOM-BQnaS4AlKuqfFNNx6RMbveVUY72YcX_iBtlbSo5bxpeEby03MrensNKt6isXeuHCW1E0qUrOPitjpfqdmGUiMCugajVTIbjarDhBfSK/s640/blogger-image-753536771.jpg"></a></div>I liked this. A little more my style. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZzAOU7h9LPSQ9zZB6P23nlLwmRJtTHI357jwOGnmxbx_bI7R5NYRTWqKhDvNGtvSlL-jm_mTzqu5aix7MlS-2aouNMnX1euHHlGzjpiZevbjS2zrNNLs5ZLK0gOt_PDQwUeqSsQ1VKlp/s640/blogger-image-1663004384.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZzAOU7h9LPSQ9zZB6P23nlLwmRJtTHI357jwOGnmxbx_bI7R5NYRTWqKhDvNGtvSlL-jm_mTzqu5aix7MlS-2aouNMnX1euHHlGzjpiZevbjS2zrNNLs5ZLK0gOt_PDQwUeqSsQ1VKlp/s640/blogger-image-1663004384.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And this was the one lesson I missed. Of course, he was awarded a trophy for performance on that day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfv0XEkNS13ZIsfcTJjA1SRs_iww7j61Py42VnFBM5yg1OALt-mP0OF4hRv9z4s5irdWpT6-o7unXAyFZ_GKTuXiRZgoVib2uuIJz74xpNTXObccz6WHYuH8BI63TFE2V3SGktuAwqp2F/s640/blogger-image-477579111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPfv0XEkNS13ZIsfcTJjA1SRs_iww7j61Py42VnFBM5yg1OALt-mP0OF4hRv9z4s5irdWpT6-o7unXAyFZ_GKTuXiRZgoVib2uuIJz74xpNTXObccz6WHYuH8BI63TFE2V3SGktuAwqp2F/s640/blogger-image-477579111.jpg"></a></div>And this was a special black belt presentation to Noah by his absolute hero, Sensei. He is an amazing man! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKRSsaf3_MAe6q3WSE-qGPFAylCMWX6skQPGOSSNDfARzC11x7pZQGXiqp3irH7xWqs1f3Eo43aNUtyxyOCt0H4oCRVXLneYfYYRsz9RXFEs2w5WaucJDT4gtZipBAt6k1jEetJvtp9B9/s640/blogger-image--1611987250.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCKRSsaf3_MAe6q3WSE-qGPFAylCMWX6skQPGOSSNDfARzC11x7pZQGXiqp3irH7xWqs1f3Eo43aNUtyxyOCt0H4oCRVXLneYfYYRsz9RXFEs2w5WaucJDT4gtZipBAt6k1jEetJvtp9B9/s640/blogger-image--1611987250.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And here he is being his sensei.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">My how much you have grown in such a short amount of time mister Noah. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">You amaze us everyday, so proud of you my little Ninja.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Love Mum xxx</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">If you like my blog, you might like to vote for me over at Circle of Mums Top 25 Blog contest. Voting closes in 9 days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><i> </i></span></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-87590895187798581762013-09-09T06:35:00.001-07:002013-09-09T11:45:35.539-07:00There's a Vagina in My Bath.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTi9FdQqRp0pKDqi-nE6aleXucKac2zLqbV9RYM9Kzc2E8q4QSNQsho_kKQwBvYXEcuEFS3nudO7CKxLyFsc5hoOMpYe_Le8yyKn_N-NkgTIhyphenhyphen4YjllisGAUX3k36IYOTqgq3S-z-ukBA/s640/blogger-image-1819790838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTi9FdQqRp0pKDqi-nE6aleXucKac2zLqbV9RYM9Kzc2E8q4QSNQsho_kKQwBvYXEcuEFS3nudO7CKxLyFsc5hoOMpYe_Le8yyKn_N-NkgTIhyphenhyphen4YjllisGAUX3k36IYOTqgq3S-z-ukBA/s640/blogger-image-1819790838.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div>I live in a house of boys. I have a husband, a toddler, a baby and a beagle. </div><div><br></div><div>Boy. Boy. Boy. Boy.<div><br></div><div>And what comes with being a boy is a whole lot of general untidiness. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys. But I do not love their mess. </div><div><br></div><div>I am of the strong opinion that all boys are messy. Hold on. Sorry! I know of one boy who isn't messy. Hi Mr N. </div><div><br></div><div>Therefore, based on my observations, I conclude that this messy business is inherited on ones Y chromosome. The mess gene. Its there. Hiding under a cushion {with all the smelly socks} on the Y chromosome. You wait. Someone will find it. And I bet that 'someone' is a female who is fed up of tripping over boys shoes, finding smelly boy socks, and washing dirty boy cups. </div><div><br></div><div>But, until that day comes, I have learnt to accept that boys will be boys and that mess is all a part of living with these boys. No use getting angry, or cross.</div><div><br></div><div>But, what does get me cross is when one of these boys focuses on a small mess of mine. I am no angel. I admit I can make a mess. And of recent times, my hair has been making all sorts of mess. I am malting. Losing every strand of hair from my head. Something to do with breastfeeding or post-pregnancy hormones I am informed by my lady hairdresser. </div><div><br></div><div>And of course, the best place to loose all this hair is in the bath, much to Noah's dismay and fright. The poor child is convinced that the clumps of hair are out to get him and worse still, he thinks they are tiny floating vaginas. </div><div><br></div><div>Tiny. Floating. Vaginas.</div><div><br></div><div>*laughing too much*</div><div><br></div><div>And so every night as he sits in his bath, I wait for him to squeal, "Marm, there's a vagina in the bath." And every night, I go in there to scoop out the floating vaginas and I wait as I am condemned by my three year old child for my untidiness. </div><div><br></div><div>He shakes his head, tuts his tongue and waves his finger too. "Look at this mess Marm."</div><div><br></div><div>Oh, I am sorry. I reply.</div><div><br></div><div>"How dare I, me, the female of the house make a mess?" </div><div><br></div><div>Ah, boys! Aren't they the best!</div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div>Are your boys tidy? Or mess monsters? </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lC55MegsiZGAEqLknnKNG036ytugAJF9CiEmHUHVryIC8nBGlAzWBsPRwhflcUxG2cWpqa2G4X7QygSnscN_RwKstkjKD7mNQF2KnIPa7ho7dZd3CJbtiQU-zIq8UQV92mNKfbGFSnVf/s640/blogger-image-1501657754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lC55MegsiZGAEqLknnKNG036ytugAJF9CiEmHUHVryIC8nBGlAzWBsPRwhflcUxG2cWpqa2G4X7QygSnscN_RwKstkjKD7mNQF2KnIPa7ho7dZd3CJbtiQU-zIq8UQV92mNKfbGFSnVf/s640/blogger-image-1501657754.jpg"></a></div></div><div>My boys!</div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-41773289219221367302013-09-07T18:27:00.001-07:002013-09-08T05:25:04.670-07:00Ladies. Book yourself a Pap smear, we have a new Prime Minister!As I woke to this morning news, I read in the paper, two facts that concerned me. <div><br></div><div>Fact One: We have a new PM and his name is Tony. And some people are really, genuinely happy about this. Some could even be heard chanting "its Tony time." Wow. Tony, you've got a long road ahead of you, mate! I hope your up for it.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXYL4GZLaTAXyYG49spFBJvTfHKUCCBeLmVibsHEUt9dLY_VTvK1DOWzpE8ExeApog7pQt4g-WFhMbjtGb-PEjbZf_oOHEPltHD_Ueknv3XrTyecxDdEJZborUjiUa3rUClNGpY1CENFr/s640/blogger-image-384747993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioXYL4GZLaTAXyYG49spFBJvTfHKUCCBeLmVibsHEUt9dLY_VTvK1DOWzpE8ExeApog7pQt4g-WFhMbjtGb-PEjbZf_oOHEPltHD_Ueknv3XrTyecxDdEJZborUjiUa3rUClNGpY1CENFr/s640/blogger-image-384747993.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>And fact two is according to Pap-screen Victoria, only 57% of women aged 20-69 have had a Pap smear in the past two years. That leaves approximately 43% of us women who have not dropped our undies in order to undergo a potentially life saving test that can detect {up to 90% of detectable} cervical cancers. </div><div><br></div><div>And I get it.</div><div><br></div><div>Pap smears are no fun in a box {pun so not intended, but, it works}.</div><div><br></div><div>But they can save your life. Your friends life. And quite possibly your mum and your cousins life.</div><div><br></div><div>Lives all worth saving.</div><div><br></div><div>But, sadly, we are not talking about it. News-poll found that one in four of us women feel too embarrassed to talk about Pap tests. I am not embarrassed by pap smear talk. In fact, I will talk about it night and day with whoever wants to listen, especially if I know all this talking may get one or more of you banging on your doctors door, screaming "give me my smear."</div><div><br></div><div>I can see all the boys signing out now. </div><div><br></div><div>And that's ok. Bye boys.</div><div><br></div><div>But, let me tell you, I have had not one but four Pap smears in the past year. </div><div><br></div><div>Four! Poor me, right. Let me describe them. Smear by smear.</div><div><br></div><div>The first smear sample ended up on the emergency room floor when the training doctor shattered the smear slide in her hands. The second sample collected by the same doctor returned an invalid result. Training doctor, anyone?</div><div><br></div><div>And the third test suggested some abnormal cells with a repeat sample suggested post-baby. So I played the waiting game. I was convinced it would be all bad news until finally the forth sample came back with the news I was hoping for. Normal. Repeat sample in 2 years.</div><div><br></div><div>But you see, prior to these 4 Pap smears, I hadn't actually had a Pap smear in almost 5 years. </div><div><br></div><div>I had my excuses. </div><div><br></div><div>Too busy travelling, I'm growing a baby, my obstetricians on leave, I am breastfeeding, I have no car, I am too busy at work, there are no available appointments, my GP moved to Tasmania, the kids are sick. I'm baking a cake. I need a wax.</div><div><br></div><div>It's endless. And all pretty pathetic because really, there is no excuse.</div><div><br></div><div>And I am bloody lucky that after all those smears, it came back normal. But it didn't come without stress and worry. </div><div><br></div><div>So, it is my hope that by reading this, you might be encouraged to show your bits. Book that appointment and take the test. Even if just one of you do this that would make me happy! </div><div><br></div><div>Because unlike the Tony fact that I read about this morning that is now completely out of control. This, this Pap smear statistic we can change. </div><div><br></div><div>Go on, go have your bits checked and while your at it ask at least one other friend if they too have had their bits checked lately.</div><div><br></div><div>Love Jo xxx</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7q0c35QY1u-aaftPiC1sKfpG4azqZ1AOuIKBMEdaSFdvYtQiuB3e_P63kNg60kLYhZNf4FAG15QPpAlz0luZalPs0uZHCmktGJA4XkDCkk4aOSnlsJzxwVFfSrKfVpTqM1ck30NqHPvU-/s640/blogger-image-965574679.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7q0c35QY1u-aaftPiC1sKfpG4azqZ1AOuIKBMEdaSFdvYtQiuB3e_P63kNg60kLYhZNf4FAG15QPpAlz0luZalPs0uZHCmktGJA4XkDCkk4aOSnlsJzxwVFfSrKfVpTqM1ck30NqHPvU-/s640/blogger-image-965574679.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-59060954907604490142013-09-05T23:02:00.001-07:002013-09-29T18:57:30.056-07:00Where everybody knows your name.You know the Cheers theme song... <div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name.<br>And they're always glad you came.<br>You wanna be where you can see your troubles are all the same.<br>You wanna be where everybody knows your name."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Go on... Keep singing. Ill wait for you to finish the piano keys too.</span></div><div><br></div><div>What a great song and can I just say how right Gary Portnoy was when he penned those now-famous lyrics.</div><div><br></div><div>He is singing about belonging and belongingness has long been know to motivate human behaviour. It is what motivates us to volunteer at our local kindergarten, to offer to keep score at the local football game and it keeps us frequenting the local shops.</div><div><br></div><div>It makes us feel as though we are part of something bigger and more important than ourselves.</div><div><div><div><br></div><div>For us, we belong to a community in Ascot Vale, Melbourne. There are a strip of shops, which we visit often, almost daily. There is an op shop, a butcher, a florist, a local physio, a deli, the library and some funky little coffee shops. </div><div><br></div><div>A little community in an otherwise big city, where people genuinely care for one another. </div><div><br></div><div>There are some eccentrics in our community. For example, there is Tom, as in peeping Tom. He is a recovering alcoholic who you'll spot reading the back page of the Harris Scarf Catalogue {the undies section}. He once told me that he used to like hiding behind the trees and perving on the girls at the beach in his younger days.</div><div><br></div><div>*step away from Tom*</div><div><br></div><div>And there's some darn right amazing people like Mary who is a devoted Bombers supporter. The recent drugs saga nearly sent her to death bed. Bless Mary. And then there's the 3 Italian stooges who sit and drink coffee all day. They always wave hello. And George who nearly died from a king hit back in the day. His got the scars to proove it and he will happy show you. Sweet Judy is one of our favourites. She has had too much sadness for any one person. Her mum passed away on the day she was told of her 5th cancer diagnosis. Yes, 5th. AndJasmine. Jasmine has a disability. But she doesn't let that her hold her back and let me not forget, Chris and Jenny. Jenny has dementia. She has lost the ability to speak but she loves babies and Chris loves her. They are love. And, Louise. Louise is undergoing her 4th IVF treatment. She admits to feeling a little emotional. And Sally, well Sally just wants to sleep. Sadly, her new little newborn baby, Harry does not. </div><div><br></div><div>Poor Sally.</div><div><br></div><div>Oh, and then there's me. I am Noah's Mum. I just had another boy, but noone can quite remember his name. Jeremy? Julian? </div><div><br></div><div>Juuuudddde, I say.</div><div><br></div><div>And see this is our community. There are others of course, but these people are my favourite. Their stories are amazing and at times inspirational. I listen to them as I know they listen to me. I often think we could write a book with all their stories. </div><div><br></div><div>A story about our local community, where everyone knows your name, well, kind of. </div><div><br></div><div>Love Noah's Mum. xxx</div><div><br></div><div>Where do you belong? In a sporting club? In a pirates club or at the local gym?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9G6kOaHxTvw_YdLUcyO6Hw-ugmN_RYvwUtdy-oKe8Wx9-nCmQIL2AJ-nJnsSpRPqelvh8FfXmXRB8W8EjxZo1wEn0tg6BnUloTAMBGyMkpYhh12w9_HMoqzMEVsOqk_bAGiXBKNXzQSX/s640/blogger-image--1878968053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9G6kOaHxTvw_YdLUcyO6Hw-ugmN_RYvwUtdy-oKe8Wx9-nCmQIL2AJ-nJnsSpRPqelvh8FfXmXRB8W8EjxZo1wEn0tg6BnUloTAMBGyMkpYhh12w9_HMoqzMEVsOqk_bAGiXBKNXzQSX/s640/blogger-image--1878968053.jpg"></a></div>Noah at the deli where everyone shares their story and knows your name.</div></div><div><br></div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4218404277634240940.post-91821380746048197852013-09-05T00:06:00.001-07:002013-09-05T03:26:11.690-07:00My big boy.It's undeniable that little boys grow into big boys. And in this past week I have seen it happening right before my eyes. This makes me both happy and sad. I want to shout "stop growing" but then there is so much excitement ahead. I cant wait to see what all this growth lead to.<div><br></div><div>Who and what will our little boy become? <div><br></div><div>Like many parents, I hope for so many things. I want him to know love, to travel the world, and to be happy and successful. To care for others and to listen to those who need to be heard. And to know how to make people smile. But for now he is 3, nearly 4! {I cant believe he is nearly 4!} and he is becoming my big boy.<div><div><div><br></div><div>I have witnessed many signs of big boy transition over the past week. They have made me both smile and frown. My top 5 big boy observations are:</div><div><br><div><div>1. He is developing a big boy wit. When I told him "to get over it" {"it" being a strong desire for a third yoghurt for the day}, he replied, without a moment of pause, "no, mum, I won't. I am in it." In it. I have never laughed so hard. Wit. </div><div><br></div><div>2. He has hands. No longer are they chubby baby hands with tiny dimples and soft fingernails. Nope. They are hands, real hands, strong hands with dirty finger nails. Nail clippers required hands.</div><div><br></div><div>3. He likes toy guns and despite my every insistence that he does not speak, touch or pretend to play with a gun, it is now out of my control. Everything can become a gun with a big boys imagination: sticks, controllers and sandwiches. Yup. Sandwiches. A couple of bites here and a twist there and it's a fully loaded peanut butter pistol. I give up. But, still I insist no purchased guns.</div><div><br></div><div>4. He cares for others. He took it upon himself to encourage a fellow karate classmate to join in on the summersault lessons. As he kneeled down and grabbed his hand, he told the boy "just try it once, I bet you'll like it and your mum will be real proud. She'll be real impressed." Big. Boy. Caring.</div><div><br></div><div>5. And, he is developing a 'tude. An attitude where "thats boring" is often mumbled. This is not so amazing. It has got to be one of the worst things you can say to your mum as a child because as a mum, a moment of boredom would be heaven. Sorry Mum for all the times I may have whined about being bored in the past. So. Not. Cool. Attitude.</div><div><br></div><div>And that's how I know my little boy is becoming a big boy. A boy of almost 4, who wants a superhero/knight/princess/ninja/gun party. What on earth do I do with the cake for that one?</div><div><br></div><div>How's your week going? Is your baby growing right before your eyes? <br><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t93kbwgGS3WT_sX6if5uifQl4gB1x0x_pQd0SQRuJaCSMstIdW1_rcwe9M7ufoQm2b6V2ivd0pEIv3Dv5xmPEOqhWP7Vvg3JCynFn7rGgShQ_s-wgDHVkmJLOYpp303yjI5Hb1PRFxjy/s640/blogger-image--511787876.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9t93kbwgGS3WT_sX6if5uifQl4gB1x0x_pQd0SQRuJaCSMstIdW1_rcwe9M7ufoQm2b6V2ivd0pEIv3Dv5xmPEOqhWP7Vvg3JCynFn7rGgShQ_s-wgDHVkmJLOYpp303yjI5Hb1PRFxjy/s640/blogger-image--511787876.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQOKz-zS52irCptrEixXmFaQqZ4LtP3zMADId6FhW1EYgSUT9Kg8DPTXc5OGwmdyINfMpOfeRyfOrGzzPPwlEABm2JEuE7W5npx6ROdtrG70I85gf7CatKqwqMex3oABasQG5mrdQw8MW/s640/blogger-image--683975192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQOKz-zS52irCptrEixXmFaQqZ4LtP3zMADId6FhW1EYgSUT9Kg8DPTXc5OGwmdyINfMpOfeRyfOrGzzPPwlEABm2JEuE7W5npx6ROdtrG70I85gf7CatKqwqMex3oABasQG5mrdQw8MW/s640/blogger-image--683975192.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp40UhpRh_PE08gLExp2z_AkqCxPF4hQ0Fg6sHAO9TxkGgxQ4QFoe7pe-6p_UKP1HhWwEU-OPegr5r7u1-fj3MwJDRZlJvbQ3gZcy9JB9KDwa5gY7bbtR4ZEsttePBG5B-NwQu5msQ5pkm/s640/blogger-image-1192856014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp40UhpRh_PE08gLExp2z_AkqCxPF4hQ0Fg6sHAO9TxkGgxQ4QFoe7pe-6p_UKP1HhWwEU-OPegr5r7u1-fj3MwJDRZlJvbQ3gZcy9JB9KDwa5gY7bbtR4ZEsttePBG5B-NwQu5msQ5pkm/s640/blogger-image-1192856014.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><br></div><br></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17530404068995846596noreply@blogger.com