Wednesday Is Love Day (totally WILD!)

As a mother of five you would expect me to be a pro at Mothers Groups! You would think that being a mother to at least one toddler at a time for the past 17 years would actually make me the Mothers Group CEO – fucking worldwide – by now!

But truth be told I have never been to a Mothers group….

Well actually, thats a lie.

I did go once but there were women and children all over the place!

There were Mums outside bitching about the Mums inside, there were kids, like, everywhere, climbing shit, hitting shit, snotting snot shit all over the place. There was whinging about who hadn’t made morning tea or brought the milk for the past 4 weeks and there was instant fucking coffee. I’d rather drink the piss the crazy little two year old just did at my feet than drink instant coffee. Yes I am a coffee snob! I believe if I am going to increase my heart rate, make myself feel like I’ve just popped an ecstasy pill and can conquer the world (or just my ironing pile) then I am damn well going to make sure that coffee is barista brewed. Barista coffee is heaven scent, it’s an art form, it’s sex in a cup – orgasm and all! Instant coffee rips you off. There’s no build up, no effort, there’s no love or post-coital cuddles. The only thing instant coffee is good for is pouring over vomit. True story! It absorbs the vomit smell and dehydrates it so you can just sweep it up – I’m assuming that will take days of drying though!

Coffee

Back to my one and only visit to a Mothers Groups … There was so much competitiveness – whose kid was doing what, who had the worst/best experience of someone else’s experience and just a whole lot of not listening to each other or pretending life and everything in it was awesome, including perfect husbands which we all know is bullshit. There is no such thing as a perfect husband (or wife), god bless them. Oh and did I mention there were a billion fucking kids! I know there would be nice Mothers Groups out there. I know I could have just got them on a bad day. I know that some of those chicks are actually really nice chicks and I fucking like them a lot! But it was just too much for me! Too much of a commitment, too much hard work, too much involvement of doing and remembering stuff.

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Then one day something fucking magical happened and it was something that really just unfolded on its own.

There was no forcing, no pressure, no strategy.

We created a Love Day – that day in the week we all look forward too, sometimes even need to fast forward to and quite simply LOVE. Wednesday is Love Day (WILD).

WILD is for women only. Kids can come, simply because they have to, but they have to go and play – like by themselves or with each other – you know like we had to do when we were kids. WILD started with like minded women who also happened to be my long term friends. We hang out, we force the children to move more than 50cm from our physical bodies (except for my two year old who is taking longer to detach his cute little toosh from my lap than the others – yay go Diesel!) and we fucken talk. Laugh. Vent. Cry. Counsel. We bake if we want too – which is never in my case – we cut up fruit if we can be arsed but we always, always have coffee – unless someone is detoxing or suffering from morning sickness then there’s a shitload of awesome Clean Tea in mismatched tea cups being poured!

It started innocently enough on any day of the business week that we were free. Then it moved to Wednesdays, permanently. We all agree this is the day we look forward to the most in the week. It’s our respite. There is just the four of us, normally, but it doesn’t mean others aren’t welcome. It’s cheaper than therapy and better than valium. Now we meet every Wednesday, occasionally on a Friday too and any other day in between that two of us are free at any one time.

We never have nothing to talk about. There are never any rules or restrictions. It is a love affair to rival the greatest love affairs of all time. We are all different yet we are all the same and we complement each other in ways that are really quite comforting and easy. There is no ‘trying’, no being careful with what you have to say, there are no wardrobe meltdowns because I feel that I have to compete with their gorgeousness – and that they totally are! There is also never any comparison of kids, their behaviours or abilities. In fact, we hardly remember we have them when we are together.

Mum

So I’ve decided Mothers Groups are not for me. They are too big, too impersonal, too focused on children and being a mother. WILD is the calm in the storm for me. It’s the normal in my crazy. It is my little life reprieve where I get to breath, feel like a woman and not just a mother. Wednesdays make me dust off my knees, refocus, refuel and regroup before the love/hate onslaught of motherhood continues. WILD makes me a better mother, a happier person and keeps me firmly and calmly seated in the roller coaster of life.

One Love

DRK xxx

Me and my WILD girls….. At other events not at WILD specifically!


We burnt the bra and then introduced spandex! 

Women of the world lets talk about the revolution or perhaps the evolution of us Betty Beavers! Let’s discuss where we are at in this women’s lib business and no I’m not talking about growing the hairs on your legs or plaiting your underarm hair. I’m not even discussing whether to wear or not to wear a bra (but just so you know I wear a bra otherwise I’d have two sets of knees). Let’s instead discuss suffocation. Suffocation of the woman body….

I’m going to ask you this very important question. Think hard before you answer – if absolutely necessary……

Have you ever walked into a department store, (ok I know the answer to that is yes but it is also not the question) strolled past the male underwear section and seen any hint of spandex? Any form of shape wear? Have you ever seen racks and racks of suck-me-in options all with marketing on the front of beer bellied men transformed into flat 6 pack stomach gods? Have you?

Seriously, have you?!!

Who do we suffocate our bodies for? Who makes us feel like we have pour ourselves into this spandex shape wear or more realistically complete an ugly ballerina workout just to get into it in the first place. It is not for our husbands, ok initially maybe it was to attract a man but it’s all got to unravel at some point doesn’t it! So I ask the question more deeply this time… Who do we wear spandex for?? Isn’t the honest to goodness most truthful answer for other women?!

I know the many times I have worn suckerer-innerers has been on girls nights, double dates or to weddings. When it tragically and theatrically goes on my husband does his deadly here-she-goes-again eye roll and mumbles something about how fucken sexy I am right now – I totally detect some sarcasm in his voice! My reply “Honey get the surgical scissors out tonight I’m going to need them when I get home!” Which also usually means he’s not going to “get any” when I get home because my intestines are screaming foul play after being compressed for hours upon hours!

I have recently stopped suffocating myself but for years I wore compression garments all for the illusion of a flat stomach, shapely thighs and a dimple free arse that’s half the size… This is an illusion created for other women who are also creating the same illusion. Not all women participate in the smoothing effect but there’s quite a few of us if we are truly honest. Compression garments are never worn for my hubbie anymore coz I’m pretty sure, from memory, he’s seen me naked and vulnerable at the many stages of my female life including the ever invasive pregnancy testing, the many scratch and sniffs I subjected myself to (better known as stretch and sweeps) and, of course the super sexy ‘let’s push a watermelon sized human being out of a smaller sized penis hugging canal while trying not to shit on the table’ childbirth viewings.

I have owned, at some point or another, every type of suck-me-in’s too. The full length pants that lift and firm your arse, compress your thighs while also flattening your stomach. I have the knee and mid-thigh length versions of that too – in nude and black of course. I also have the knicker ones but my arse spills out the sides and that sorta shit is really too hot to handle. I’ve also had the singlets, the over boobs and under boobs ones. I’ve had the pants with caffeine infused into the material to help you lose weight while looking like you’d already lost weight! I had the matching top in that one too. While none of these versions have ever given me a completely seamless looking figure and it’s completely imfuckingpractical during sweaty Australian summers, it has been many times that I had wished for an ankle-to-breast-to-wrist compression garment …. But then I realised I’d be wearing a wetsuit – which in fact is perfect for the Australian summer.

So back to the initial question – do you see men wearing these garments to please other men? How utterly ridiculous! These are lucrative businesses run by other women who keep on making money from our own insecurities and our harsh judgments of other women’s bodies! We are participating in a ridiculous “perfection” culture where “just as you are” is never good enough. I bravely took me and my little donut belly out last night and she was free from any intestinal sufferance. She wiggled and jiggled when I walked and laughed. I occasionally hid her behind my bag or my hand or pressed her against the table or tucked her into my jeans which then gives you a camel toe let me give you the tip but we were free to breath, my intestines weren’t squooshed up and sitting in my throat (talk about bad breath!) and well it was kinda liberating. Scary but liberating. Another bonus I got to pee in 2 minutes! Yep in and out just like that! No ballerina dancing to get some unhygienic labia suffocating material over the bits of my body some entrepreneurial sells to the women world as unsightly!

What’s next ladies – shape wear for our daughters? Let’s hope not!

One love,

DRK xxx

Losing a Sh!t Load of Weight

I recently blogged about “passengers in the bus” or #voicesinmyhead that I have slowly but surely started to drown out. I got tired of hearing their daily hourly fat, ugly taunts and I finally got the courage up to just drive that bus, #myself, toward my destination warning those demons (or as I affectionately call them, fucktards) along the way that if they didn’t shut up they would be booted out at #itsnotmeitsdefinitelyyou and #hellwasbacktherefucktards. Surprisingly my firm tone of voice, my confidence in my decisions and my ability to ignore them most of all has actually started working. They have been relatively quieter lately and I can see my journey ahead, my headspace is becoming a lot more peaceful. A lot happier. A hell of a lot more satisfied with me, as I am, right now!

With those demons sitting a little quieter on the bus things have obviously changed for me. The major thing is my scales no longer dictate my day. They don’t tell me to be happy or sad. That I am a good or unworthy person and they certainly don’t say if I am a success or a failure in this world. I’ve also been given the freedom of food. I can now eat what I want, when I want and however much of it I want to eat without feeling guilty. Without beating myself up and claiming to the world what an awful person I must be. The emotionally painful connection I have with food has almost completely ceased and so instead of eating and eating and eating to feed my demons, to satisfy their negative judgements on me and to starve myself of acceptance and love I now eat when I’m hungry.

In the mornings I wake up starving and my belly grumbles louder than my head ever did. So I eat. My favourite for the past month has been honey on toast. Ok, more so, it’s butter on toast with a small drizzle of honey…. Ok, ok it is actually just butter with a small serve of toast and an even smaller drizzle of honey! But I eat it lovingly and I enjoy it deeply and I don’t feel bad about it … at all! The other night my husband took me out for dinner. It was a surprise dinner. An early birthday present. I ate three courses. Yes, an entree, a main AND sweets – unheard of normally in my world! I didn’t finish every bite but I ordered and I ate each course til I felt satisfied. My demons didn’t say a word. This is a huge deal for me! I eat salad, I eat rice, I eat lean protein, I eat pasta. I eat a balanced diet and I am not stick thin or at the gym working my arse off and I am totally ok with it because there is so much more to me than what size I am. There is so much I have to give to this world and it has nothing to do with the number on the scales, a long awaited/yearned for flat stomach, a bullet repellant arse or a body that other women are secretly jealous of. My calling is much deeper than that. My health starts with my mind.

I weighed myself the other day, for the first time in ages, this is also a huge deal for me – I was a ‘three times a day’ weigher once upon a very short time ago!! With all this eating and enjoying I have been doing I was surprised to see I haven’t put on any weight, in fact I’ve lost a couple of Kay Gees. But I really, honestly, don’t care because the greatest loss I have made is the huge weight, crazy huge burden that I have been carrying on my shoulders. The pressure. The judgement. The harsh critic. The meanness. The constant battery of thy mirror self. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to look like the women in the magazines. I don’t have to look like my neighbour, my best friend, my frenemy. I can just be. I choose to just be. I choose to eat to survive. Eat to enjoy. Eat to live. I chose to wear what makes me happy. Wear my size, proudly, confidently, whatever size that is and you never know from one brand to the next! I can wear whatever I damn well please including a bathing suit when the sun starts shining warmth again. I can smile with happiness. Smile with confidence. Smile because I know who I am and I don’t have to struggle to be someone I’m not. My head sits high on my shoulders. My happy, smiley head.

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I now know that chasing the better version of yourself doesn’t always have to mean being buff, being skinny, being thinner than what you are. That’s a sales tool that is used in the fitness and health industry – and that’s ok. For some. Not for all of us. Being the better version of yourself is being happy with who you are … Right Now! Because every day that you are living and breathing is a bloody successful day! Every day you get to learn something new about yourself and your body. It’s functions, capabilities, it’s fucken awesomeness! Every day you can choose happiness and acceptance over those fucktardish demons. Body love, body acceptance, body embracing is a choice, every day, all day. This is the best version of yourself. Body hating, body judging, body shaming should be left on the bus, sitting quietly, in time out until they learn the value of love and acceptance.

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Now give your body a hug! It works hard to take you through each day – especially if you treat it as badly as I have treated mine over the last two decades! Speak kindly to yourself because you are listening!

One love

DRK xxx

The Reality of Parenting

I recently went on a holiday, a five day holiday, without my kids, without my big kid – aka my husband – and without any concern for anything other than myself and enjoying time with my girlfriends. Five days where I didn’t have to think about shitty nappies, who hit who, what to cook for dinner or more so what not to cook for dinner, which shirt I should wear, hey one that doesn’t have dirty handprints on it or mashed up banana glued to it is good enough, who has soccer practise, tennis, basketball, football, work or a project due. I didn’t have to think about washing, hanging, ironing and putting away for 7 people. I didn’t have to vacuum and mop only to have it look like it needed a vacuum and mop moments later. I didn’t have to hear that dreaded question every stay-at-home mum hates … “What’s for dinner?” Or the even more painful “I’m bored.”

It was a holiday that I desperately needed as I face challenges with my teenager as he turns into an arsehole …. ahem sorry of course I really meant to say, as he turns into a real life teenager (or pre-man or better yet a pre-man-pre-man). Challenges that include dealing with a 17 year old girl who is in year 12 and will only settle for A grades – yes it’s admirable but it is also a highly stressful aspiration. Challenges with that prementioned 14 year old boy and his preteen 11 year old brother who looks up to him and his behaviours. Attention for the wild and crazy and all consuming world of a 5 year old and the tantrums and tribulations of a non-speaking 2 year old. Yes the fact he isn’t talking worries me and I’m getting help… Oh hey let’s not forget also the 39 year old male who needs my love and affection too. Sometimes he needs it more than the others all put together. So with testosterone overload a girls getaway was totally called for!

My holiday consisted of all the things a womans holiday should. There was plenty of shopping, walking, eating, wining (as in actually drinking wine not listening to my children whine), seeing talented people in talented shows, watching a live football game – yes I’m interested in football … C’mon there are hot men running around in teeny tight shorts – need I justify this anymore?! And of course the best ingredient of our holiday was the laughter. Real side splitting, chest hurting, stomach-muscle-cramping type of laughing. It was the best medicine for my overwhelmed heart and mind.

On our last day I knew it was all coming to an end. We wandered around for over 2 hours trying to find a place worthy to have our last supper at. We knew it had to be awesome so we could fill up with a happy ending to an awesome holiday and where we finally settled was well worth the calories burnt and the blisters earnt. We spent the evening eating Italian, being served by an Italian stallion and we drank plenty of Italian fluids – white wine, red wine and champagne. We laughed and laughed and laughed. We laughed until we were crying. Until we were unable to even speak. Until we thought everything was really funny and risked being kicked out of a Melbourne restaurant for well laughing too much!

The next morning we came home and my children welcomed me with open arms. Ok *inserting brutal honesty here* my 14 year old grunted at me – there was no open arms but I did get hugs and kisses from everyone else followed by “what did you buy us?”. My husband puffed out his chest when he saw me because he had ‘done it’ – ‘it’ being my role for a whole five days but not with all five kids I need to point that out coz it really isn’t the same BUT I am so thankful he stepped up to be a single Daddy for me so I could go away! Then the morning after my arrival home he left for his working week away and of course my real reality hit. In fact truth be told that reality up and kicked me in the gut, then it quickly filled my head with all the stuff that it had been missing and I cried, a lot. Not because I didn’t want to be there with my family but because what I do day in and day out is hard – don’t judge me! And so the day after the day before the onslaught began – packing for the 14 year olds camp, football games that coincided with a 2 year olds sleep, two big projects due, birthday parties to attend, presents to buy, appointments to get to, school runs, sports practice, lunches, early mornings, fussy eater dinners and oh did I mention washing. Fucking washing – take me to live at a nudist colony please!

Reality bites

When you go on holidays there really should be a law to say you must slowly reintroduce yourself into the ‘normal’ world in which you live. Kind of like weaning. Weaning yourself into your regular old self, with regular old chores and a billion regular things to remember. And while I may sound completely ungrateful for my life I’m not. My children make me and they break me. They teach me patience and how to not completely lose my shit. My role as a stay-at-home mum is completely frustrating, rarely rewarding and certainly never with commendations. But I have an amazing family who I can only hope and pray will grow into happy adults. That my children will know that I loved them and tried my best every day, that I never gave up and I may have struggled but that was only coz I wanted better for them. I hope they will understand and accept my imperfections and my desperate need to escape them for a five day holiday. I hope they know that my ‘reward’ is their future happiness. Their contentment in life will bring me the greatest reward of all.

My vision, a hundred years from now (ok maybe just half of that), has my husband and I sitting on our rocking chairs on our front porch reminiscing and laughing at all the times we nearly killed our offspring – it’s ok I am exaggerating, laugh with me. We will wrinkle up our noses that are already well and truly wrinkled and observe how funny it is to see our little darlings with little darlings of their own #karma.

I can only hope my children will be a better parent and a better person than me. It’s called evolution right? If so, then I know all the sacrifices, all the giving, all the tears and trying will be worth it. Parenting is a tough gig. I don’t know any gig that is harder and it really hits home when they become teens because you know adulthood is only just around the corner and all you have taught them or haven’t taught them is about to show up, for real. So fingers crossed I’ve done ok.

Reality struggle

So here’s my mission for you Superwomen…. Find a parent, whether you know them or not, someone who is doing it tough or appears to be struggling right now. The one who smiles and says she’s ok, the one looks overwhelmed, the one whose toddler is screaming on the floor in the supermarket while the mother is copping judgemental stares from fellow shoppers, she has bags under her eyes and the weight of the world on her shoulders. Your mission is to go up to her and tell her she is doing an awesome job. A lady once said that very thing to me as I dealt with a tired, unruly 18 month old who did not want to sit in the trolley, who had snot from left nostril to chin and a blood curdling scream to welcome the Vampires. Those kind words from a stranger gave me the strength, that day, to pull back my shoulders, to keep calm and to not feel like a complete failure. It’s really important to spread the parental pats on the back, to share the enormous weight a parent carries and to let them know they are a great parent and that it’ll all be ok.

You are doing ok xx

One love

DRK xxx

 

Social Media – Ruining One Relationship At A Time

Never write a message when there are feelings attached because, as I have just learnt, things get misconstrued. You may deliver a message from your heart but the tone of it can be read in a very different way and then, well then shit really hits the fan.  I’m not one for confrontation and I certainly would never intentionally hurt another human beings feelings but today I did. I did, unintentionally, all because my “worries” and my “concerns” weren’t translated as I had intended and were interpreted as accusing, mean and angry. 

Making someone “see” something you see is hard at the best of times but when they are in an armoured fuck-you vehicle then you stand no chance at all and it’s best to just walk away, nah fuck it you better run! No matter how much it hurts! No matter how many years of friendship that are about to be tossed to the curb awaiting rubbish collection.

Today I’ve learnt to buffer the whole truth and nothing but the truth coz so help me God it doesn’t lead to anywhere I ever want to be again. Today I’ve learnt to keep my stupid mouth shut and continue to avoid confrontations at all costs even if it means not being true to what I’m really thinking. I am shaking and I am in shock. I feel like I’ve just witnessed myself and my friend in a car accident, all unfolding before my eyes in slow motion. I’m in shock because I have never, ever been spoken to by anyone, ever in my life like I was today. I have never been so misinterpreted, so misunderstood. I have never been told that someone regrets having had a friendship with me. I have never been told I am a nasty piece of work. And I don’t believe it for a second. I’ve spent my life caring for others, in fact I care for others more than myself most of the time. Sure I’ve bitched and whinged about people throughout my lifetime. I’ve vented to my friends about my friends or my kids or my husband and all back around again. Hell I’ve blogged about it numerous times. Sometimes I’ve been a shitty absent friend when caught up in my own crap but I’m not vengeful, spiteful or nasty. I am not a piece of shit and I would never, intentionally, hurt someone I care about. I hope she’s ok.

So today I learnt a lesson. In fact, I learnt many. Firstly, never, ever ask a friend if they unfriended you even if you know you were friends before and now suddenly you’re not – it may be a technological-fuck-up and not a human-decision-error. Never ask them that question because what happens from there is a series of reactions that don’t lead to a very good outcome. A simple question but not a simple outcome. I also learnt never to rely on social media to keep friendships safe because social media is the most unsocial way to connect with anyone ever. I learnt when being honest, filter at all costs! Honesty is not always well received especially if it’s not asked for. And finally I learnt if in doubt pick up the phone and talk. Get in your car, drive around, knock on their door and ask face to face. Never, ever rely on social media to relay a message especially when there are feelings attached to it, ever!

One love

DRK xxx

“Never, EVER, rely on a message to convey the emotions of the words it carries… Ever.” ~ Cristy O’Brien

Time Traveller

Today I received a message from myself. A message from the 26th April 2013 version of me. It popped up on my iPhone. It popped up on my Mac. I sent myself a clear message – clear to me because I knew exactly what I had intended for it to mean on it’s arrival today. It was designed in 2013 to activate me today in 2015. It said ….

“Today it clicked”

What the??? Seriously! On this day 2 years ago I decided to set up a calendar event to remind me, convince me that all it takes is one click. One click and whola you are thin. You are successful. You have time and money up your sleeves. One click and you are magically happy, your house is clean and your kids listen to you. Lets be honest though – in all its simplicity that click was really directed at my weight.

What was I doing two years ago that made me come up with this marvellous idea? At what point did I actually think a message from my past self would actually work? My future self maybe but my past self really?? It does, however, show me that two years ago and today are just the same because I’m still as focused now as I was then on the same stuff. What is that quote about insanity …”The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” The simple fact is that I am not willing to work for it. Any of it. I’m lazy.

  

What clicked today was my guilt. Which clicks a lot. Guilt that I didn’t get my kids out of bed to go to the ANZAC dawn service yesterday morning because I was worried my youngest would cause a scene when there was supposed to be silence. Guilty because I sat on the couch for most of the morning, eating on and off but mainly on. Guilty because I saw a person who makes me hate myself and so I came home and ate chocolate. Guilty because I am sitting here typing rather than snuggling with my baby on the couch – but I think the couch has had enough of me today. Guilt because I am still the same as I was in 2013 and even earlier, much earlier than that. Guilt because I sit here whinging when so many others have it worse.

  

Today it clicked just how much I beat myself up still after all this time. Beat myself up because I live in my head – yes we’ve have had this discussion recently! Today it clicked that maybe I don’t really want to change if I haven’t already. Or maybe what’s holding me back is stronger than the result I am chasing or I’m allowing that to be the truth. Like captive Elephants who, from an early age, have a single rope strapped to their ankle. Then as they grow into over a 3000kg creature they still believe that this single rope can hold them back. With the largest brain of any land animal elephants are conditioned to believe this to be true yet they have the capacity, the strength and the brain power to move forward! They just believe they can’t.

 

Why do I live like this. Chained up to beliefs that hold me back. I want to be free!

  

So today I did what any smart land animal would do – I deleted my click. I deleted that fucker right off my calendar of events. This isn’t a magic show. It’s fucken life. I am not David Copperfield and that “magic” is all about illusion anyway! I’m still working on this…. This is far from over!

One love

DRK xxx

Dreams & Dirty Thoughts

My Hubbie and I travelled home through the Swan Valley the other day which can only be described as lusciously dewy, especially in the mornings. We’ve done this trek many times and as usual it stirs up some long sitting dreams within us. It always starts out the same with my husband declaring that he would love to give up his day job and instead build wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. Yes you read that right, wooden wagon wheels to sell Australia wide. He’d also love to own a draft horse, he says, and have a (home-made) carriage so we could hire it out for weddings occasionally….. It’s quite a sweet dream I’m just not sure how profitable wagon wheel selling is since… well since man invented cars?! But who am I to judge says the girl who is hoping to invent mosquitoes that suck fat.

We, also always discuss our common dream of having a B&B – mine luxuriously OTT with everything you could ask for and more (more as in stuff that is pretty useless but pretty all the same) and his is an upgraded version of mine site donger with the basic necessities and definitely no pretties. Our “matching” dream of running a B&B usually ends there because that is where my even crazier visualisations take over and my mouth follows suit. I have always said if I could attach a printer to my brain it would help people understand what I can ‘see’ in there – my next important invention alongside fat sucking mosquitoes… So before I know it I am telling him our B&B will be on lush, green acreage – totally realistic in this sunburnt Australian country! It is also purpose built for wedding one stop extravaganzas! By one-stop I mean there will be a stone ‘chapel’ which is cute yet totally practical, a reception hall decked out with all the mod-cons but with plenty of character and breathtaking beauty and of course, accommodation for the bridal party, guests and a kick-ass bridal suite for the lovebirds. I also added at the end of the conversation that we would also need a big bus to transport people back into town after the wedding… At this point my husband looked at me funny. Yep, that visual brain of mine got totally carried away confusing dreams with reality….. But that is so totally me and they are the luxurious additions to his simple dream of a bed and breakfast, wagon wheels and a horse drawn cart…. One Powerball and we can have it all … Except the year round lush green grass – courtesy of the Aussie summers!

While I had my hubbie in a chatty mood, which is rare because he’s generally pretty quiet, I asked him if he would like to inspire my next post for me. I asked him to think of a sentence to start me off or tell me something he’d heard/read/seen recently that was funny. Something that would get the writing juices flowing for the next four hours in the car. Well, surprisingly, his eyes lit up, a smile that I have seen a billion times spread across his face and his head started making fast paced whirring noises but as he opened his mouth to speak I interrupted him, as all good wives should, and said “It can’t be dirty, ok?” … Instantly his eyes lost their twinkle and the cheeky smile vanished from his face and I could tell he was trying real hard to think of something clean because the whirring noise turned into clanging and banging, I’m pretty sure I saw a puff of smoke come out of his nose too. That part of his brain hasn’t been used for awhile. Silence then followed for a moment as I left him to catch his thoughts until finally he said, “Nup. I got nothing! Unless you want to tell them about my dream the other night. You know the one with me and you and the really flexible girl on our dining table?” Yep and nup! I do NOT want to write a post about that. I am all good for classy girls swearing but dirty mens talk should be left in the shed as should womens unsugar-coated venting be left at the coffee shop because isn’t that all we do all day ladies?!

So, then this is it. This is your husband inspired post. A moment, a small slice of conversation between a husband and wife as they discuss their dreams and visions for the future. A post about our dreams and his dirty mind.

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He really is!

 

One love,

DRK xxx

Weeding my way to true happiness…

Life has been kind to me. I’ve been blessed with two wonderful parents who are respectful of one another and still in love to this day. They raised me in a loving home with grounded morals and life values. I have three older brothers who protected me, let me hang out with them and their mates and who inspire me, each in different ways. I have awesome friends, many new and endearing ones and special longtime, lifetime ones too. I live in a beautiful house, I always have enough food on the table and I can run, walk, carry my children and breathe fresh air into my healthy lungs everyday.

I am lucky.

Some times in my 30 plus years though I’ve felt ripped off. Not good enough. Felt that life had been unfair to me. I have had some days, some weeks even where I’ve only seen the glass as half empty. I’ve felt sorry for myself coz I wasn’t richer, skinnier, faster, smarter, prettier. I had friends who were toxic and draining on my emotions. I drank too much, smoked too much, ate too much. I saw my parenting as a failure and I was always too ready to give up.

Over time I have invested in myself. Books, courses, physical challenges, many deep and meaningful conversations. Over time I have learnt how to weed my garden. To clear it of things that didn’t serve me. That didn’t make me feel wholesome, kind or safe. That made my life seem hard, unfortunate or not worthy. I’ve overcome grief, guilt, self-sabotage. 

Today my garden is flourishing.

One love,

DRK xxx

  

Exploding Love

New parents are totally as adorable as newborns. You can spot them a mile away. The awkward pram moments, the fussing, the uncertainty spread across their face, the tired elated smiles and of course the teeny tiny baby. I love it. I miss it. The newness that is.

I’ve always been newborn mad – just not so keen when they grow up and starting talking back. I love the way newborns smell, how they rely holy and solely on you, I love their little cries and all their ‘first’ little moments. Newborns make my heart want to explode with love and sometimes I think it actually will – explode with love that is. I wish I could bottle it and spray it all around the world so that this pure love fills the hearts of everyone. I know, I know, how soppy and sentimental of me but alongside P!NK, newborns just make my heart sing!

But that’s not what I came here to write about today because even though I sound super clucky and it seems as though I am about to announce (another) pregnancy I feel it’s very important to say that I will never have another newborn of my own… And I am grateful for that because I have five healthy children already! But it does mean I get to love the newborns of my friends.

I came here today because I feel so much love for a little guy who I’ve never met and who has recently arrived. I love his mother – in a friend-way not creepy-way – so its only fair that I’m totally in love with him too. He’s precious, he’s tiny and he’s premmie. He is also strong, determined and he is, well I’m throwing this out there, perfect. Absolutely perfect.

How can one be so perfect? How can someone so little steal your breath away? I remember when my number 4 was born, my littlest one in size and with a serious medical condition. I remember how I could sit and stare at him all day. Not being able to hold him was painfully draining but I never got bored just hovering around him. I never wanted to walk away and leave his side. Even with the three hourly ‘milk room’ trips where I’d be plugged in like a jersey cow spending up to 30 minutes each side trying to get some milk out he never, not ever left my thoughts. Other mums would come in, five minutes tops, and then walk out with 180mls meanwhile (back at the ranch, the really dry drought ridden ranch) I left with a syringe of 2.5mls or under. It was pretty pitiful and that 2.5mls was my largest milk delivery the entire time!!

My number 4 was the epitome of a miracle to me and I know my friend will be feeling exactly the same. All babies are miracles and love is love but these little tiny ones are just even more special. More miraculous. You cannot, as a parent, fall in any more love than you do with them. It’s a love that is all encompassing. A love that blows your mind. So when I think of my friend and the new little guy in her life my heart fills to the brim and explodes a little on the inside. A little miracle. A little ray of lovely sunshine. A little bundle of love.

Now go and hug your babies, no matter how big they are. If you haven’t been blessed with babies yet go and hug your mother or your father or both because they will have that exploding love thing happening all over you!!

One love,
DRK xxx

Day Whatever – Embracing My Wagon

I am still off my wagon, not officially and not in a completely tragic, middle-finger-fucking way. I am just off the diet-I-was-doing wagon and I am instead walking alongside it, the wagon that is. I’m quite possibly tightroping cliffside but so far I’m doing ok.

At this stage I have lost a total of 4.5kgs in 2 weeks with another 4-6kg to go. That’s if I am basing my life and my happiness on the number on the scales. With my little loss I am already feeling better, my thighs aren’t rubbing so harshly now, I’ve started running again (ok it’s still just a fast walk) and I am enjoying and feeling sustained eating healthy, small portions. So then how am I off the wagon you may be wondering? Well, I am not doing the exact specifics of the diet I am/was following. This means I haven’t lost weight in a few days but I am feeling ok about that at the moment because I am still being healthy.

The only thing I worry about is that I think this is a cycle for me and I’m trying really hard to remember for sure if it is. See, I think I start these strict diets and then as I am hurtling along, doing well, I decide to jump and run alongside it to see how well I can do on my own. Like a test. In the past, it hasn’t worked. In the past I have always failed, faltered and fallen over while trying to keep up with the wagon and its many awesome passengers. Sometimes I have actually hurtled over the edge and definitely with tragic circumstances!

But something IS different this time ……..

“What’s different Cristy?” – you ask frustratingly as you wipe my chin coz once again I am dribbling a little bit of shit….

Well yesterday something golden happened. Something I didn’t expect. It arrived via Australia Post and, with applause, earlier than expected! It was my golden ticket to the possible land of diet freedom in the form of a book! I could never have imagined that a book could bring me so much clarity. So much okness – yes I am making up words now to explain it’s magical qualities! This book had me laughing out loud, yes LOL’ing, while I sat in my car waiting for the kids after school. In fact, I peed myself laughing, really I did, and the book made me feel ok about that too – especially seeing as I was reading about the author shitting herself! Hey, ones or twos – I’m not judging!!

Are you dying to know what the hell I am talking about, which book comes with a golden ticket? Well, it’s a newly released book called ‘Embrace’. It’s written by Taryn Brumfitt who has started a world-wide movement to encourage women to accept their bodies while living a healthy, balanced life! And (so far) it’s fucking fantastic! Can I say that any louder? IT. IS. FUCKING. FANTASTIC! While reading the book not only did I relate strongly to Taryn and her stories but I also felt like she was my soul sister – and not in some hippy, tribal, drum-banging way. I mean that in the way that she swears a lot, she’s rich in her honesty, she’s blunt but with a lovely realness you just can’t fake! This woman is just like me! The only difference is that she loves and accepts her body.

She has been fit as shit and now as a ‘normal’ ‘healthy’ size 12 she is completely ok and completely happy with her beautiful, glorious, wonderful, womanly body! I WANT TO BE LIKE THAT TOO! I want to be ok! I want to embrace my figure and just be! BE healthy, BE happy, BE fulfilled. These things do not mean being a size X, Y, Z or weighing under X kg’s, having under 0% fucking body fat. It also doesn’t mean I need to exercise for hours every day to prove I am beautiful or socially accepted neither should it mean I have to suck back on my dry-retching from the green shit I try to swallow every morning *gag*gag*shudder*

Being healthy, from Taryn’s perspective, is about balance. It’s about acceptance. It is as much about mental health as it is about physical health and of course, emotional stability and spiritual fitness. And by spiritual fitness I mean putting life into perspective, being grateful for a body that is working, is willing and able to function because my body is the house to my soul.

Here’s my ‘click‘. It’s happening. And it’s not the type of click in which my middle finger on my right hand flips itself into an erect position in defiance and a demeaning ‘fuck you dieting’. It is simply a click of the pieces in my minds puzzle falling into place. Of understanding better, accepting more and embracing that which I am. It doesn’t mean I won’t continue losing weight because I KNOW with my continued healthy eating that I will indeed lose more. But it won’t be such a mental head fuck, I won’t be desperately ‘trying’. I will just be doing. Enjoying not punishing.

“My body is not an ornament. It is the vehicle to my dreams.” – Taryn Brumfitt

Ahhhh, exciting!

One love

DRKxxx

#Ihaveembraced

Check her out http://www.bodyimagemovement.com.au or better still buy the book yourself it’s gold!