Confessions of an Over Sharer

*LANGUAGE WARNING*

I like to share and by that I don’t mean the “Share” button under peoples Facebook statuses. I also don’t like to share drinks, toothbrushes or husbands. Instead I like to share information about myself especially in the company of complete strangers. I’ve heard of Verbal Diarrhea before so I thought I would Google it just to see if such a thing really did exsist and if in fact it was what I was suffering from ….

The results were these definitions:

“A serious disease which, once it has control of a person, causes them to spew forth incoherent babble from the bowels of the voicebox.”

And my favourite:

“A condition suffered by an individual who has the inablility to shut the fuck up.”

My diagnosis: A Moderate to Severe form of Verbal Diarrhea ….

So lets play a game… I’m at the check out and you’re the check-out person. I say “Hi” and you say “Hi, how are you going today?”… Well then, it’s game over! You lost and I won! Coz you crazy son-of-a-gun just opened the flood gates to hear all the inside info of this Superwoman. There is NO simple answer of “Good thanks”; “I’m OK” or “I’m well. And you?”. But instead by the time I’ve finished talking, you’ve bagged my last item (remembering I shop for seven people) and learnt that my baby doesn’t sleep through the night, I have an irrational fear of spiders – even the cartooned variety – and my plans for the future include winning the lotto, inventing a fat-sucking mosquito and never, ever giving birth to any more children.

I’m not an over-sharer because I like people knowing my business but I share because I feel like I owe people an explanation about who I am and so I can answer all the questions that I usually receive – but in one foul swoop! Let me give you an example… The other day I’m at a ladies house picking up an item that I bought from her on a Facebook Buy and Sell page (classy I know!). She is a complete stranger but she’s nice enough. We are chatting away quite comfortably when she blows it by asking me how many kids I have! Before I knew it I had explained to her that “I was on my second marriage”; that “only the two littlest kids were my second husbands biological children”; that “I had been a single mum for two years after my divorce”; and that “I now owed a TV in my bedroom so there wouldn’t be any more kids”. The last one is usually just to bust that joke before someone else does. It’s not quite as funny when they don’t get it though. But seriously! The actual answer to her question was really quite simple. All I had to say was FIVE!

F

I

V

E… Five! I have FIVE children… FULLSTOP. END OF SENTENCE. NO MORE SPEAKING! But I jump ahead so far of the usual question carosuel that I receive of “Wow. Five? What are their ages?” Snowballing next to “Oh thats a big age gap?” And then to “Did you and your husband plan to have such a gap in their ages?” etc … And yes, people really are that invasive sometimes so I just let them have it all! Right from the get-go!

I do, generally, walk away from those conversations thinking “Holy crapballs! Someone get me a bib coz I’m dribbling shit all over the place!”

Divulging so much information, although traumatic for the poor checkout person, gives me the opportunity to explain my life so that I am not unfairly judged. I get to set ‘the story’ straight coz some people have really big imaginations!! As a Superwoman though I think I need to learn to be a little more mysterious… Not everybody needs to know about my dirty red knickers little secrets – which really aren’t that dirty at all… It’s just the way my life paned out!

One love,

DRK xxx

Why Can’t Mosquitos Suck Fat

Wouldn’t that be so much more beneficial if those little suckers sucked fat instead of blood?! It just makes so much more sense to me… Don’t you agree? It’s not a big ask, quite simple really to mess with the order of the universe. It’s like turning a vegan into a carnivore or a chicken into a piece of tofu. No biggie!

I’d even be happy for a couple (hundred) of itchy red lumps just so I could donate some tucker to some starving Mosquitos out there. A few bites and some deep, deep, long, deep, long sucks on my tummy, thighs and butt for that little mozzie so he can take some fat home to feed his family. Poor little guy. He’s a hardworking mozzie after all we should cut the guy some fat slack! It’s his job to bring home the human bacon! How will his kids be able to get a decent education if they can’t concentrate with their hungry bellies? …….

Ahhh I’d even forego the calamine lotion just to enjoy those little itchy bites……

And you see if I was truly Superwoman I would be able to use my superpowers to create a liposuction mosquito to design the amazing post baby body you see in the magazines… But isn’t it so heartbreaking to watch Superwomen being so absorbed in their bodies that they don’t appreciate the gift of life in their arms … Me included!

The pressure I feel to look a certain way after having my fifth child sometimes seems insurmountable! But once again I am busting this myth of “the weight just fell off” 3 days after giving birth! Why are we so competitive with each other? It’s not Superwoman versus Superwoman! It’s Superwoman versus The Villains and then beating the absolute shit out of those terrible villains who are out to destroy lives! Let’s stick together, we don’t need no fat sucking mosquito in our imaginary minds 🙂

One Love,
DRK xxx

I eat cardboard for breakfast

Yep! Its true! Each morning for the past two weeks I’ve been eating cardboard for breakfast! Not the regular shaped-like-a-box type of cardboard. Not even the cardboard that comes to your door delivered by Australia Post each week from an online purchase you’d forgotten you bought… I’m talking the kind of cardboard that is actually in the ceral aisle at the supermarkets. Its brown like cardboard, it swells up when mixed with liquid – like cardboard – and to be honest the flavour is bland like cardboard …. Not that I’ve tasted the real variety, honest I haven’t, but if I ever did I would expect cardboard to taste like this!

So its true. The cardboard that I have fallen in love with is All Bran! Weird right?! I love it for many reasons…. It really does make you ‘regular’, nobody else in my house will touch it with a ten-foot pole and I only need a little bit before I become totally bored with its lack-lustre flavour that my portion control is superb!

Which brings me to portion control…. Portion and control… Two words that are foreign to me when used in cahoots with each other. Seperately I am fine with each word – like ‘Portion’ – The bigger the portion the better. And ‘Control’ – I am in total control of not dripping that chocolate sauce from my spoon… That’s right huh?!

So why portion and control? Well, my husband and I have embarked on a weightloss journey together – he’s doing great, I am actually really proud of him. I’m doing OK but I could be doing better. Mind you, I am cooking every healthy meal for my hubbie while he is home. He does not have to lift a finger nor does he have to use any brain cells to even think about “what” to cook. And then when he goes away for a week someone else cooks for him so the hardest part for him is to simply pick the healthy choices. I on the other hand have five kids to run around after while he’s away. Five kids who want to eat like ALL THE TIME and five kids who do not love the kinds of foods that I am supposed to be eating… Yes, I am throwing a little pity party and quite possibly making excuses but its true. Even though I am Superwoman right?! So I should have some amazing superpowers huh?! I should be able to do anything I set my mind to, isn’t that what you’re thinking! Coz Superwomen are made up of lots of tough and strong-willed thing-a-me-bobs that ensures we are always in control?! Wrong!

I’m busting this clean red knickered myth! Superwomans hair of bouncing golden curls takes hours of bleaching and styling to perfect, her hair is actually poo-brown and frizzy. Her abs of steel come from years and years of yo-yo dieting and a whole lot of spanx in her wardrobe – yep she wears sucker-innerer Bridget Jones style underwear under those tights. And those super high cheekbones! Don’t even get me started on them! They are implants and a whole bucket load of illuminating cream ladies! Seriously! Myth busted!!!

One love ladies!

DRK xxx

 

Going a little cray-cray

It seems nothing out of the ordinary to be so busy that you occasionally forget things, miss appointments or remember them too late. It seems quite common among Superwomen to discuss the frightening reality of being on autopilot especially while driving, arriving at your destination and thinking “Sheesh how did I even get here?” Or “Was that light even green?”

Lately I’ve been so busy that I’ve also started doing and saying things that are just a little embarrassing. And because they are just-a-little-giggle funny and not pee-your-pants-and-I’m-going-to-laugh-so-hard-at-you-until-you-are-red-faced-and-quite-uncomfortable funny I thought I would share with you… You are most welcome to share yours too…

So, the other day I’m ironing…. Like loads and loads of baskets of ironing that had accumulated and was now so crumpled that each item was unrecognizable. Halfway through….. mmm ok truth be told I was only a quarter of the way through……. Oh alright then it was only the third shirt! Ahem, so after a few shirts were ironed I got sidetracked, unplugged the iron and went and procrastinated elsewhere for awhile. On returning to my ironing I committed to getting through at least two of the baskets before I had a break this time. I managed to get to item number four before thinking to myself “Gees this is bloody hard work!” At which point I turned to see the cord from the iron dangling on the floor….. Yep not even plugged in! And that was the moment when it dawned on me …. I’m a shit ironing lady!

The other day I was meeting my girlfriends for lunch at a restaurant. I’m always early or the first to arrive so it didn’t surprise me when I arrived and nobody else was there. Half an hour later, lonely and feeling a little insecure, I call one of my friends…. Wrong restaurant! Red faced I pretended to get an urgent call and bailed on the chair I had been warming for the last half hour!

Then there was the argument that I had with my husband and kids about an animal. The rhinoceros…. I was 100% certain it was a rhinosaurus! Say it with me people … Rhino-saw-rus! Please tell me that that actually sounds like an animal coz in my crazy mind it’s real!

Then there was the time I put the iron (yes another iron story) in the fridge. When the door didn’t close because that damn cord was hanging out I realised my mistake! It wasn’t the water jug in my hand after all….

Then there are the times I’ve farted in the shopping centre and blamed the baby…. Doesn’t work so well if you’re rocking an empty trolley coz you left the baby at home with his Daddy.

These are only a little sample of embarrassing moments for me. There are so many more but they’ve got lost in the dark foggy stuff in my brain…. Until next time ….

One love,
DRK xxx

Morning cuddles

My seven month old is an early riser. It’s not something that bothers me really because with four other kids who have school or weekend sports or jobs to go to he is my little alarm clock but much cuter than some plastic thingy with flashing red lights and a high pitched siren that’s needs a heavy hand slap to be turned off!

Occasionally (like this morning) I’ll put him into bed with me for a cuddle and to maybe sneak an extra few moments of sleep. So for those who are childless you may envisage Mother and Baby in a sweet embrace, blissfully engaged in a deep sleep…. It’s a sweet image right?!

Wrong! A quick cuddle was all my babe had time for followed by some world class toenail digging into my ribs, serious hair pulling and even a bit of nose picking all while being super cute saying “dad da da”! Yep he doesn’t even have the decency to be cute and mutter “mum ma ma”….

Even when I move him as far away as I can on our king bed (without putting him in danger of falling off) he still manages to either lay horizontal enough to use his feet or he will scratch his fingernails on the head board…. Ah bliss!

All is forgiven though the moment the roller door goes up, the sun shines in and his little face lights up! It’s like he’s thinking “Yay I won! Mums up and gees I love this woman!” His smile with the two little bottom teeth grinning up at me and there’s not a person in the world who wouldn’t smile back …. This love at its greatest moment…

One love,
DRK xxx

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Exposing the Truth!

I feel the need to explain the site title “Superwoman and Her Dirty Red Knickers” as I can only imagine what some minds may be conjuring up. I mentioned this very title to my Mum this morning and for someone with even less of an understanding into the blogging world than me she was rather concerned with the type of people who may “accidentally” come across me via Google. Good point really…

So to state the not-so obvious when I say “dirty red knickers” I am NOT implying to not know how to wash my underwear nor does it mean I am kinky in any way, shape or form, it doesn’t mean I will post photos of my underwear nor does it mean that red is my favourite colour….. So what is it all about??

Well, some people call me Superwoman – you know one of the many stereotypes – kids, career, volunteering, shift working husband etc etc but I am one of many! Kids or not, career or not , it doesn’t really matter. You can be a Superwoman in any facet, I guess as long as you are a woman though.

What this is about is …. Reality! The truth! Its the moments when your two-year-old sits on the floor at your local supermarket screaming blue murder, you have their snot and dribble on your “best supermarket shirt” shirt and you are copping stares from the composed parents out with their sweet well-behaved angels and you are thinking to yourself “Is this it?” “Is this all there is?!”

So I am unlocking the secret thoughts and the wondrous workings of a females brain. I’m airing the dirty laundry (including the dirty red knickers) for anyone whose willing to admit not everything is rainbows and sunshine. Our dirty little secrets are about to be exposed and I can’t wait to get some things off my chest – all in good fun, all with a lighthearted and joyful intention. And all to ensure that we women start to put down our perfection bats and quit beating ourselves with them!

So join me with a smile, a happy heart and an understanding of sarcasm in this WWW blogging journey…

One love,
DRK xx