Fully Sick

Last week I was giving myself a pep talk.

On Monday, when I felt the sting of a sore throat - I started positive affirmations such as "I am not sick - and I am not getting sick."

On Tuesday, I felt a little lousier, but still continued with the affirmations.

Wednesday, much the same. Thursday my voice morphed into a drag queen. Friday, ditto. Saturday I felt completely lousy, but bucked up for a friend's birthday soiree, although that throat, my head, meh. And Sunday, bloody Sunday - I wake feeling pretty much how I think rat shit feels. Like rat shit.

I am so sad and mad! I was up to week three of C25K. I was having fun at training. And then I got sick, and I have barely moved off the couch today. Covered in a blanket, with a box of tissues, some Difflam, and iView. I. Am. So. Bored. 

I've given Matt an IOU for Father's Day. For a retake. I had plans - and he wound up on cooking, kitchen and kid duty. 

Please. Tell me something exciting. 

Money Money Money

Must be funny. In a rich man's world. (Ha. Ha. Ha.)

Money's too tight to mention.

There's a reason there are songs written about money. And it's not the romance.

It's quite simply, because money is not funny. At all.

Money is boring. Yawn-worthy. It's the bone of contention, the source of much stress, angst and sometimes loud arguments. It's also a great inspiration for long sleep-less nights.

Blergh. Money. You are a big poo.

Just when you think you're getting on top of the bills, you get another one that wipes out any savings you thought you might have (big thanks to the $800 electricity bill - gulp).

So here's a question for you, what are your very best of the best frugal tips?

(for more hilaire dollar bill artworks go here. PMM does not condone defacing federal property.)

When Period Pain Is Not

Yesterday I spent the day feeling pretty darn miserable and convinced I had period pain. I took two Naprogesic and thought - in half an hour, all will be gone and I can continue.

Only it didn't and all day I rode a painful wave where I was convinced someone had a voodoo of me and they were squeezing my stomach intermittently. I mean this damn person wouldn't let up. They kept going and going.

But it's not period pain. It's freaking gastro. GASTRO!

If they can put man on the moon, why can't they outlaw gastro. MEH! For more gastro loving head over to Mogantosh. They really know how to party too. And Mama Mogantosh REALLY knows how to party because her glasses fell into the toilet. Yowsers.

In light of this, here's a funny ad about Mother Nature.

Blogtoberfest Day 11: ARGH!

I had a tippity top day today catching up with a girlfriend for lunch. On the menu, tomato salad with baby beetroot, fetta, walnuts, parsley = yum! Followed by a pecan + raspberry tart, hello, I'm in paradise. Feed me more Seymour, more!

And then I came back to find the smalls were still squabbling over le Bunbun (who coincidentally, and unfortunately has not yet been named), with the Doctor trying to cover him and Tiny inadvertently squashing him. Eeek!

When really, all I have to say is, I have nothing to say. Except this is a common sight at our house these days.

Stuff That Mummies Do

It was a cold and blustery Winter morning. The rain was coming in steadily. It was cold. It was blustery. It was bunkering down weather. It was toe-freezing weather. Certainly not the time to be galavanting around town. Absolutely not the time to go swimming. But as a dedicated Mama, she packed all the stuff ready to roll and arrived, for once, promptly at 9am.

And there starts my story for today. Swimming. In Winter. Yuck. Walking into that aquatic centre is humid and stinky and - it's cold outside, and there's the mother who wants to tell me her daughter's at home quarantined with swine flu. And there's me steadily sliding down the bench away from her, a metre per minute - I'd give Thorpey a run for his money.

The Doctor went swimming. Tiny sat sidelined and ate yet another banana. Another sandwich. Everything in sight. Then we went home. In the rain. Quel surprise!

We then went to the Doctor. I know how to have a good time. Four year old immunisations. Yeeehaaaaar. Told you I knew how to have a good time.

And then home again, home again jiggedy jig. Do I have anything of interest to share with you? Do I? Do I? Ergh. In case you're interested, I mopped the floors. This is no mean feat. You can now eat off them. But anything of interest?

Well I was interested in building a gold mine with the Doctor while Tiny slept. We built some platforms, we shunted the trains around the track. We brought the animals out for a walk. It was fun to spend that time with him. Shut away from the computer, the TV, the phone - everything, and just hang. I love when we do that.

Going Great Guns

According to the Doctor, I am going great guns on the scarf. His scarf. That I am only just casting on. I've only cast on 10 stitches, yet, I am going great guns. How's that for your own personal cheer squad? Pretty damn good. Perhaps I should make him some pom-poms that he can use in his cheers. I wouldn't say no.

Can you imagine doing the mundane jobs? Hanging the washing out? Supermarket shopping? Trying to find a park? With your own personal cheers squad all of this becomes interesting. Exciting. I could even start wearing my hair in pigtails and wear a short flippy skirt. On second thoughts, I know about my moon tan, let's scrap the short skirt.

I know you've been wondering what I've been up to. Racking your brains you have been. Twiddling your thumbs. Doodling on notepads (pottymouthmama, potty. mouth. mama. pottymouthmaaaaama). Don't worry. I'm just psychic like that.

Well here's the big news. So listen up. I have been incredibly busy. So incredibly busy. So incredibly important. Doing nothing. Yep. That's right. Nothing that I think anyone would be interested in. Not even my husband. Not even me. That's right. Things at home have been booooo-ring. Well I could tell you the trivial things. Clothes washing. Cleaning the kitchen. Playdough-ing. Clearing the floors. Mopping the floors. Oh my life. It's oh-so-glamorous (please imagine me reclining on the couch, hand to brow in a silk-satin dressing gown, hair in rollers, false eyelashes and some spectacularly stupidly high stilettos to totter around the house in. Truth is, old t-shirt, pyjama pants and high - oh-how-I-love-them ugg boots). Did I mention my nails are splitting from all the washing up?

Oh Groundhog Day. Release me. Release me. Send me something exciting. The highlight of my day lately is Masterchef. Is there something wrong with me? I may need to start singing Gershwin (out of tune of course).

Another highlight, walking to the park. To the shops. To anywhere. It's so great to be outside in this chilly-billy weather. Winter, you're early, but oh how I adore you.

A Whole Day's Worth of Posting

I've been sitting here, opening up my blogger account. Closing it. Opening it up. Closing it. Trying to think what I can post about today.

There's not much, I'm afraid. Except to tell you, I've rekindled my love affair with afternoon walks with the smalls. The above is a shot of the Doctor on his trike, and Tiny's feet going skyward in the pram as I stride it out.

So I'll tell you exactly what's happening here. It's not thrilling. Trust me, I can certainly vouch for that.

Yesterday I spent about three hours tidying our pantry. This my friends is not a job I covet. But it had to be done, since for the last week I've been finding small elephant-like beetles coming out of there. Yik! I found the source of these pesky blighters and have removed them. Subsequently, I have spent the past two days on the search for them. Every time I find one is like a small victory. I run around the house with my undies on my head. Just kidding. But man, those things sure know how to breed. And what the heck are they? They've managed to eat through plastic, I've found them in a number of unopened packets - rice noodles, yep they loved them.

And on an even less thrilling front, the Doctor is still sick. I'm thinking he could work as a stunt double for a seal. His cough is as good as. Now I just have to bring out some fish and a ball to balance on his nose and it's a cert. We've clocked up five doctors appointments in the last three weeks. Yikes. This month is not Amazing April. It is living up to my Average April premonition.

Average April. I don't salute you. Not so far, anyway.

PS - Does anyone have a chickpea recipe that the kidlets enjoy? I'm looking, but not finding anything so far.

OH AND LAST CHANCE TO ENTER THE GEORGIE LOVE SUPER DOOPER GIVEAWAY. WINNERS ANNOUNCED TOMORROW FOLKS!

Back To Magical March: Day 12

I've missed a few days. Punish me if you will, but I needed to take some time out of trying to see things magically for a moment to push through the week.

Today is Magical Thursday.

After forgetting to attend a meeting with my accountant on Monday, I turned up to see him today, albeit it 1/2 hour late. He's a rad guy. He didn't mind. He didn't even blink an eye when he saw the state of disarray my tax/accounting is in. Man, oh man, did I mention I hate paper work?

I stayed up late last night continuing Magical Methodical March. Silverfish be damned because you're not going to be eating here tonight. Awright? I even just found an invoice I've been hunting for for the past 36 hours. Magical and then some. Turn it up!

Since the last time you saw me, I've become magically hooked on Twitter. My favourite for the moment is Diddy. My goodness, his updates have made me laugh. But then I decided that things were going Twitter-ific when Matt exclaimed, "PottyMouthMama, now you're twittering to me about Tweeters." It's true. I hang my head in shame. IN SHAME MY FRIENDS. My whole life has become one online par-tay that I must attend at all hours. Breakfast, count me in. Lunch, snore - already here. Dinner, what's Diddy eating? Shame on me.

This afternoon we're busting out of the house once Tiny decides to rouse from her beauty sleep. We're heading to the park. There's no dinner to be had (let's just get it over with and delete it, no one's interested, alright?!). We're busting up some bark chip and we're gonna get vertical on the slide. Awww yeah. Magical March. Ain't nobody like you.

Magical March: Day 9

I'm kicking goals today. Mopped the floors, almost finished the washing, doing some work, getting ready for sewing, baked ANZAC biscuits before pre-school and then - forgot to go to the accountant to organise my tax. For last year. No amount of diarising reminded me of this little gem.

So now I am being studious and getting organised. Because for me, being organised means I can not possibly forget. Well I can, but getting organised means a bit of work - and at this stage it means hole punching a whole lot of paperwork and filing it so it stops floating around our house.

I seem to hoard as much for as long as I can and then get sick of old bills etc being around, so then I file them.

I'm interested to know, I try to have as little paper around as possible, but there always seems to be a tidal wave of paper propaganda floating in the mail. What do you do with yours?

Not exactly Magical - but let's call today - Methodical.