Budgets for Millionaires

I am a millionaire. I am. I have won lotto more times then I can count and the feeling of excitement, the bubbles and the butterflies are always the same. The stupid grin on my face never changes and I always spend it the same way.

Firstly, I divy up equal amounts between the five kids – a million each. In trust funds of course. They get weekly payments from their 18th birthdays which increases with age – decreases with stupidity – with the full amount being accessible by the time they turn 25. Unless they’re arseholes – then they get nothing. Conditions: do good with your life. Find happiness. Don’t be an arsehole.


Secondly, I get my family together including my in-laws. We call a secret meeting to tell them we have important news and they have to be here to hear it or they miss out. We are always standing in my Mum’s house I don’t know why but we always seem to end up there. Vinnie and I hand them all special little envelopes – all pastel and pretty – we count to three and tell them to open them together. Imagine their surprise! Always a million each for our parents and half a million to our siblings. Conditions for our parents are: they must spend it! All of it on getting amongst the living and holidaying! Conditions for our siblings: be happy and enjoy.

Image courtesy of: https://www.etsy.com/listing/200621913/12-pretty-pastel-gift-card-envelopes

Thirdly, we pay Pink a million dollars to do a private concert for us – with just our family and friends – somewhere remote like El Questro. Yes, I said Pink. I spend a mill on Pink every time I win lotto.

Yep! It's true love!

Yep! It’s true love!

Fourthly, we donate a million to our two favourite charities. But we don’t just give it to them, no that’s too easy. We buy things for them. Life changing, treatment transforming machines for PMH. Accommodation/entertainment/camps/fundays for Camp Quality. We make it get put to real good use and see where it has gone!

Camp Quality – my other love!

Princess Margaret Hospital – loving our kids!

Fifth on the list is property. I always buy property. Usually a renovators delight – which I renovate with absolute delight as I please. I also build a themed village – with each home styled in a different style that I love … Industrial, hamptons, country, vintage, chic. I would then let them out to families, women or men who are going through tough times. Conditions for them being: they must be willing to choose to smile more, be grateful and welcome awesome new opportunities into their lives.


Renovators Delight!

Sixth and last on the list is us. Our dream home. An automatic car. A new dining table that seats 8 comfortably and a lounge.

That’s it.

Then I wake up.

What’s your lotto dream?

One love,
DRK xxx

A New Jar Year

Well, I popped the top on my Memory Jar of 2013! It was an uneventful occasion but I’m not really sure what I was expecting seeing as I had already opened that lid numerous times to put the ‘memories’ in it. I guess I was kind of hoping for some fireworks, maybe a bit of inspirational music to suddenly begin playing in the background or at the very least hear a popper-like banging sound that echoes the world at 12am New Years Day. But instead the faulty clip just clicked open crookedly as normal, the pretty lace flower on the top fell off as per usual and I once again thought to myself that I should probably stick that pretty little thing back on properly (I didn’t).

But this time instead of dropping a piece of paper into the jar I finally got to tip it all out!


Clearly there are not 365 pieces of paper in there but its a damn good “first attempt” (in my opinion). I’m so glad that I committed, ahem remembered, to add memories to the memory jar because sitting down reading those colourful pieces of paper has reminded me of short moments of time that I may of otheriwse forgot. I’ve been able to have a giggle, make a few aww and nawww sounds and best of all it kinda made my heart feel all fuzzy – not hungover fuzzy but real-life-lovable fuzzy.

One of the first I read was by my usually grouchy 12 year old. He had written “I got 100% in my first Maths test” – well done mate I was proud of you then and I’m proud of you now! Then I had written one on a small pink piece of paper “Tiarna’s first kiss”. And then there’s my 9 year olds longwinded and breathless version of playing ball “Oska and I were playing soccer and Oska kicked the ball out of bounds and then I threw the ball and then I kicked the ball and then it went into the basketball hoop.” Hooley dooley mate thats sounds pretty cray-cray!! I also smiled when I see that my Mum has secretly put one in there without me knowing “Don’t forget! Nana loves you all!” And yes that includes me even though she’s not technically my Nana!

There are two in particular that I like because I remember them as if they are happening all over again. But maybe they are even funnier now then they were then, particulary the first one!  These memories could possibly be of those “You had to be there” kind but that’s not going to stop me sharing with you…..

‘Feb 2013 – Mum shaved her underarms with toothpaste instead of shaving cream!’ How is this even possible you may wonder? How on earth could a tube of toothpaste be mistaken for a bottle of shaving cream? Well in support of myself it was one of those standing-push-the-top kind of toothpastes and it was grey with aqua blue – my husbands shaving cream bottle is grey and aqua blue! It seriously (on first glance) looked like a gel shaving cream I swear!!! I know, I know, I am not sure if I would believe it either but it actually happened to me! But the best part about this memory is that it was a minty toothpaste which, let me tell you, did NOT leave a cool refreshing feeling once my husbands blunt razor had scratched its way across my underarms… No it was definitely NOT feeling minty fresh hell I was stinging like the queen bee had had a girls night with all her stinging virgin queen bees at my underarms expense! Thanks Ladies!

‘March 1st 2013 – Chevy and Mum are sitting at the dinner table. Chevy (3 years old) is eating his lunch quietly. Mum is reading her mag. Chevy looks up and asks quite innocently “Mum?”, “Yes, Chevy?”, “Mum, I’m not allowed to say Fuck Hell am I?” *Choke* *Cough* *Splutter* *Giggle* *Regain Composure* “No Chevy you’re not allowed to say Fuck Hell.” ‘ That is one of those moments that you as a parent really pat yourself on the back coz A) You managed to repeat a swearword to your three-year-old son and B) That you know somehow in between all the swearing you’ve obviously been doing is that you’re son is smart enough to know he is not allowed to say those words.

So …… A couple of real proud memories there. Maybe not memories people would display on their Facebook statuses or talk about at a Mothers Group meeting but these are real life moments in this Superwomans world minus the fluff and fake stuff. And even though I would rather my daughters first kiss to be when she’s 80 I know that when she is a mother and we are trying to recall her ‘first’ moments I will be able to pull out my Memory Jar Book Chapter One: 2013 and be able to tell her. Then, and only then, can laugh and reminicse.

Memory Jar Book

2014 will see a new jar and more memories! Its something I know so many people would get enjoyment out of and if you are one of those people then go now – empty out your coffee jar, cut a corner out of your nanas lace tablecloth (the side she doesn’t sit on) and start creating your own little jar to fill with real moments and memories. It’s worth it I promise!

One love,

DRK xxx