Taming Trolls

I try to stand back from the whole social media thing as much as possible. I use it but I don't let everyone know what I'm having for breakfast and I try not to be too opinionated about anything - that's what my blog is for!

I LOVE Twitter for the fact that I follow some really interesting people and brands, so it keeps me up to date on news, current affairs, random trends and great buys or bargains. I far prefer Twitter over Facebook in this sense, although Facebook also has its place. I enjoy getting updates from people I don't see too often and can get sucked into the voyeurism of it, although recently I feel like it's just a breeding ground for bragging and bitching.

Sadly, this has become increasingly evident since I became a Mum. I'd actually deleted my Facebook account prior to this but decided to sign up again when my new mother's group decided to create a page - which, it must be said, has been a LIFESAVING resource for information, support and friendship. Still, more and more of my Facebook friends are now mothers, and more and more of the pages I follow are targeted at parents.

Recently I'd noticed that many of these pages were becoming pretty catty. I even noticed one friend, who I only know through family and is more of an acquaintance, continually posting negative comments on some of the "Mummy" forums she follows, which I'm not sure if she realises pops up in others' news feeds. One page that I have followed since day one on my motherhood journey and is responsible for many of my online shopping purchases, Babyology, also showcased a disturbing trend towards judgement and downright abuse.

The kinds of things I'm talking about is people saying a photo of a Dad holding a bottle with his chin is "awful". "Disgusting". People calling a mother "irresponsible" and "stupid," saying she should be "ashamed" because she wore her baby front facing in a Bjorn carrier - apparently bad for the hips. It's getting to be more than I can stand.

Thankfully, Babyology have been all over the news this week after their decision to delete negative or abusive comments and block repeat offenders. Most have welcomed this decision, because of course most of us are normal people who are able to function in society without being rude, judgemental and even threatening. But the amount of people out there who can't seem to do this is getting kind of frightening.

I would definitely welcome laws proposed by former Chief Justice Alistair Nicholson, who wants to make cyber bullying punishable by law. Personally I would probably cry myself to sleep if a stranger called me disgusting on Facebook for a simple parenting choice or hell, even something I was wearing, so these people need to learn their comments can be harmful and be punished accordingly.

What I'm REALLY interested in, though, is why women (because it's mostly women, let's face it) feel compelled to behave in this way. Do people genuinely feel that others should be ashamed because they choose to do things differently to them? Or are they just uneducated? Misinformed? I'd love to see some kind of study into the issue.

I know for me it's amazing how an image or article about parenting that shows things a little differently to my own experience can sometimes bring up strong feelings of guilt, remorse, or even smugness. Certainly there are things I've done along the way that really worked for me, and when I see others doing things differently I do feel like putting my two cents in and offering advice or an opinion - but I try to keep my mouth shut, because really people are capable of making their own decisions, even if I think they're mistakes.

That said, there are also things I felt I could have done differently, so occasionally I have the opposite feeling, something like inadequacy. I wonder if some of these women are simply reacting to similar feelings within themselves, with little thought to how they might look or sound voicing them aloud? Perhaps people are still not aware of just how PUBLIC social media is, and instead view it as an anonymous medium on which to vent. Little do they realise they'd be far better off shouting it in their best friend's face than typing it for the world to see behind the perceived "safety" of their computer screen.

Regardless of the why, I think social media junkies in general could take a leaf out of my Grandmother's book - if you don't have anything nice to say, refrain from saying anything at all.

Z x

The Housewives

I am, to use the old fashioned word, a "housewife". I work only two days per week and even on those days, I'm the main person in charge of getting our daughter to and from childcare. I'm responsible for all the household-y kinds of duties, like cooking, washing, cleaning, ironing and the day to day child rearing.

I'm totally cool with this arrangement, given that my husband works crazy hours in order to provide a house for us to live in and food for us to eat. We each fulfill our own share of the needs hierarchy, and I'm sure roles could be reversed if either of us wanted them to be. But neither of us is interested in doing what the other does, so our system works well.

Sadly though I'm not a very good housewife in the traditional sense of the term. Like right now, for example, I'm sitting here on my laptop with a giant basket of washing in front of me, play-dough all over the floor and a sink full of dishes waiting to be done. I've just watched over an hour of reality television while playing Candy Crush Saga on my smart phone. My poor husband.

Recently I've developed a...uh...fondness for the American "Reality Housewives" series. It started with a few episodes of the Beverley Hills version and escalated when there was a marathon screening while I was doing the ironing. This led to me watching Beverley Hills, Vancouver and New Jersey in the one day. Now? I'm hooked.

If you haven't seen Real Housewives, it's like watching a train-wreck unfold slowly over the course of 45 minutes. It is just truly terrible, vicious, humanity-at-its-worst kind of viewing. Which of course makes it AMAZING and ADDICTIVE. The Real Housewives of New Jersey is like, next level crazy. The insanity of it is just so epic that I can't look away. Strangely I think the craziness of it stems from the fact that it's probably the least staged of all the series, which is just plain scary but also allows for that element of true voyeurism you don't get with the other versions.

The most recent episode from Season 5, which incidentally happened to be the first one I caught before downloading Season 1, involved an all in fisticuffs between three men who I believe were brother and brothers-in-law while multiple women surrounded them tearing their hair out and screaming. Excellent.

Season 1 sees the "housewives" spending their days at the hair salon and bitching about each other (mostly one in particular, model/stripper "Danielle" who I personally believe is a sociopath) before culminating in a dinner at which one o' the gals upends a table while shrieking at another. It's truly gripping viewing (no, really, it is). I'm onto Season 2 now and while I'm getting a little over some of the drama (Danielle I'm looking at you girlfriend) I'm still getting my kicks.

So, fellow housewives, be you lazy and technology addled like myself or your very own breed of anti-stereotype, be sure to remind your husbands that at least you don't look like this:

The Table Flip

I may have questionable taste but I genuinely recommend this show, if only for a good laugh. Who knows, you might learn how to speak Jersey.

Z x

When My Husband Cooks

Like many mothers/wives/women in general, I often feel chained to my kitchen. It's the centre of our home and between breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks, plus countless cups of tea and sneaky trips to the fridge, it's where I spend the greater part of my days. Sometimes this all gets a little too much and I decide I need to do anything possible to avoid it, e.g. duck up to the local Sushi place.

Not to say that I don't love cooking - I do. I have a longstanding love affair with food - reading about it, making it and mostly eating it - and was one of those teenagers who actually asked to be gifted with cookbooks (and clothes!). These days though I don't choose to be in the kitchen so much as I'm obligated to in order to provide sustenance for like, a family. And I don't exactly have time to prepare a complex three course meal, at least not on weekdays. GOD ISN'T MY LIFE TOUGH?!

As you can see above I am quite a whinger, so my dear husband has clearly got the point that I get over cooking. As he is a dear and is always looking for ways to make my life easier, he usually offers to take over cooking duties on weekends. But often, like last night, this can be a chore too.

Now my husband isn't a bad cook. In fact, he's a great cook. He just doesn't do it that often. And when he does, he's a stickler for a recipe. He's one of those people that if a recipe stipulates carrots should be cut into 1cm pieces, he would measure them and they would all be the same. Me, on the other hand, well my version would have various sized chunks. Possibly even the top of the carrot. Come to think of it, I guess our differing approaches to cooking says a lot about our differing approaches to life!

So, because he doesn't cook a lot, and because he actually doesn't use the kitchen a lot, and because he's not great at freestyling, his cooking can take...well...time. There are some techniques he could use refreshing on...and he causes me to almost sound like my mother, with thoughts like "If I want something done I might as well do it myself" flashing through my mind before I, thankfully, stop them from reaching my mouth. 

To explain what I mean let me relay last night's scene:

J: "I'm going to cook tonight! Here's the recipe, you just cross off what we already have."

Z: "Okay..."

J: "Alright, H and I are going shopping, you relax!" (See he is a dear)

------  Time passes --------

J: "We're back! Okay now you watch H while I get this started."

Z: "Okay..."

J: "Um...do we have potatoes?"

Z: "Not unless you just bought potatoes?"

J: "SHIT. I forgot the potatoes. I need potatoes."

Z: "Alright, you get started and I will go back to the shops to get potatoes." (Feeling less relaxed)

-------- Time passes ---------

J: (Presents me with packet of cloves, labelled CLOVES.) "Are these cardomom pods?"

Z: "No, they're cloves"

J: "SHIT. We don't have cardomom pods."

Z: "Why don't you substitute it with ground cardomom?"

J: "...nah. I'm going to use these cloves."

Z: "Okay..."

------- Times passes ----------

J: "Should this be thickening?"

Z: "What does the recipe say?"

J: "It doesn't say anything about thickening but this doesn't look thick...I have to thicken it...how do you thicken it?"

Z: "Why don't you try turning the heat up and taking the lid off?"

J: "Okay...can you do it for me? And can you keep an eye on it for me?"

Z: "Okay..."

------ Time passes --------

J: "Have you seen the lid to the rice cooker?"

Z: "No, but it would be where it always is."

J: "I've looked there. It's not there."

Z: "Try the drawer next to it."

J: "I looked there too. It isn't there." (Sighs huffily and makes lots of noise)

Z: (Gets up, moves to look in drawer where lid is kept. Lid is sitting at top of drawer inside a bowl. First thing Z sees). "I found it!"

J: "Oh thanks, where was it!?"

Z: "It was literally on top of everything."

J: "Oh..."


Aren't I a harsh critic?! But really, sometimes I do think it would be easier if I just stayed in the kitchen. That said, reading this back it sounds a LOT like conversations between my Dad, who taught me to cook, and myself as a teenager. And Dad never kicked me out of the kitchen - he just kept answering my annoying questions until eventually, I didn't need to ask them anymore. I still call him when I have a kitchen mishap, desperately seeking advice - "WHY is my dough not rising?!" And he's still willing to help out.

So in future when my husband cooks, I will try to feel flattered that he needs my advice!

Z x

Confessions Of A Teenage Wannabe

I am so deeply uncool. I'm really uncomplicated, wear my heart on my sleeve and make no apologies for what I like, a list that includes terrible chick flicks and Posh Spice. I have a couple of cool friends, like actually cool ones, you know the type. They're kind of deep, and troubled, certainly not loud or chatty, and they just genuinely can't stand the sound of Taylor Swift. They don't even not care what others think - they just don't even think about that kind of stuff.

I also have LOADS of really uncool friends like myself, and these are of course my favourite type! There's nothing that cool about being cool. My sister is at the top of my uncool friend list, because I can share all of my terrible daggy obsessions with her without fear of judgement. That's one of the many beauties of sisters.

Anyway, we got to chatting the other day about our shared secret indulgences, including dancing around loudly to the aforementioned Miss Swift (OHMYGOD love her!) and potentially even...ahem...Ed Sheeran. I'm not proud of that one. But god, he really pulls at my heart strings.

Taylor and Ed TOGETHER *my teenage dream*

As we talked we developed the theory that inside every grown woman is the ghost of her teenage self. No matter how much I age, the phase of life that's most firmly etched in my memories - the songs, the scents, the scenery - is my teenage years. What is it about being a teenager that is so memorable, so formative and even a little scarring? For me I'd say it's a combination of boys, high school and hormones. First friendships, first loves, first losses.

My daggy obsessions kind of allow my inner teenager to escape, just for a few minutes or hours. Justin Bieber, Rihanna, nights indoors spent cheering 17 year old The X Factor contestants and ogling Guy Sebastian's new muscles. The Hunger Games, Twilight, any novel about teenagers who either a) Fall in love or, b) Live in a future/alternate universe (preferably both).

Don't get me wrong, quite often I want to be a grown up. I want to put on some critically acclaimed music and have a glass of wine and read about something serious. Sometimes you'll even catch me watching a foreign film or doing something REALLY sensible like paying bills (this is rare).

But sometimes I need to be a teenage girl again. I need to pump "22" and sing like my life depends on it, not thinking about how far I actually am from 22 and how old that sounded to me when I was 15. I need to dance with my daughter and pretend we have no responsibilities and no worries. Which we don't, really, but sometimes we both need a little reminding!

There's a lot to gain from being in touch with your inner teenager. I particularly felt this when I was teaching hoards of them each day, and needed to relate to them in order to gain their trust and, in turn, respect.

It reminds you how it felt to be young and carefree. It's an excellent means of empathising with teenagers in your own life, who feel they've got things pretty hard sometimes and let's face it, often they do. It prevents you from taking yourself too seriously. And it's really handy for learning all the words to Taylor Swift.

Z x

Getting Your Toddler to Eat Vegetables

Toddlers and Vegetables. Ah, these two things go together like...um...beetroot and peanut butter. Not well at all, is what I'm saying.

Getting some (most?) toddlers to eat vegetables is as challenging as keeping me away from carbohydrates for a week. It's not rare for me to put a plate of lovingly prepared meat, vegetables and pasta down in front of my toddler, only to return ten minutes later and find the meal completely in tact, sans pasta. Sigh.

So, I've ticked number 45 off of "List Of Things I Said I Wouldn't Do As A Parent" and started hiding vegetables. That's right, cocooning them in beds of pastry, disguising them among meatballs and even adding them to sweet treats. Who knows where you might find a sneaky vegetable if you should pop over for a visit!

Hiding vegetables has been marginally more successful than serving them straight up. Toddlers are smart and mine is particularly savvy/out to get me, so I feel like she really examines all her food before deciding if it's worth conceding valuable power points to eat it. Especially at dinner time, the meal of the day that is fraught with the most anxiety for me, a fact which my toddler knows and exploits at every opportunity.

Aaaaanyway my latest "invention" if you will was kind of a mashed vegetable pastie. I'd seen a recipe I wanted to try over at Phoodie, and didn't have all the ingredients on hand, so decided to freestyle - something that has a relatively low success rate in my kitchen but I continue to do anyway.

So, I chucked what was in my fridge - 1.5 large potatoes, half a kent pumpkin and a carrot, later followed by a few stalks of broccoli - into a pot of boiling water until tender and then mashed it all together.

From this...

To this...

I then got some puff pastry out of the freezer and cut it up as per Phoodie's instructions (into fours). I scooped about 3 TBSP of mash onto two squares and covered with the other two squares, repeating again to make four pies/pasties. I had lots of leftover mash, which I put into zip lock bags and froze for next time.

Assembling...

The leftovers

I brushed the tops with some beaten egg and cooked for about 20 minutes.

Amazing photography I know

These were devoured by both me and Miss H for dinner that night - meaning she ate approximately 3 tablespoons of mashed vegetables, double her weekly average. Next, I'm going to try making fried vegetable balls. Stay tuned for the riveting tale of my journey!

OH and P.S. - like any healthy food, these will need to be smothered in tomato sauce for optimum eating results. 

Any tips on fail-safe methods to get toddlers to eat their veggies? Or are we all in the same boat?

Z x

Bottle Feeding...Again

I know the whole Breast vs. Bottle thing has been done and done again, and I have even posted about it before. It's not so much a case of Breast vs. Bottle as "how shitty is it when you can't or don't want to breastfeed?" because we all know by now that Breast Is Best.

Bring out the violins because I'm about to tell you about how I couldn't breastfeed my daughter. You've heard it all before but she couldn't attach and I didn't produce much milk. And the less she attached the less milk I produced. And the more this happened the further I descended into a deep sort of depression. And as it got harder and she got skinnier, I said bugger this and started bottle feeding. End of story.

Except it wasn't the end of the story. I don't really talk about this with people and I certainly never even got too deeply into it with my husband or my Mum, my two pillars of support, who I think just "knew" and tried not to bring it up. But I REALLY struggled with the fact that my daughter was bottle fed. I felt guilty, I felt hopeless, I worried about her health and I couldn't wait to start her on solids so that I could nourish her with fresh foods prepared by me instead of packaged stuff prepared by formula companies.

But mostly, I felt embarrassed. I felt ashamed. I felt so judged that I always made sure my daughter had a big feed before we left the house so that I wouldn't be seen feeding her a bottle in public. I pretended at my first mother's group that I was breastfeeding - I didn't outright lie, but I didn't tell the awful truth. This turned out to be unnecessary because those women were all amazing and supportive, and most of them couldn't wait to be done with breastfeeding anyway. But still.

What amazed me (and still does) was the complete lack of support available to bottle feeding mothers. And not just emotional support. Practical, common sense advice on subjects such as overfeeding, safe preparation, sterilisation, hypoallergenic formulas, the merits of different brands and so forth. You could find all that information if you really looked, but it wasn't readily available.

"I'd be smarter if this were breast milk"

No one told me what brand of formula to use for my child and why. My husband rushed to the chemist and stood outside waiting for it to open one morning in utter desperation, with a starved screaming child and maddened, frazzled wife awaiting him at home. He picked the brand because it said "organic", and hey, that's as close to natural as possible right?! So from then on, that was our brand. As I met other bottle feeding mothers in the months that followed I noticed many used the brand that was used in the hospital, but the dreaded F word was never mentioned in the hospital I was in.

There is an entire industry devoted to the training, support and skill of breastfeeding but bottle feeding mothers are expected to just know what to do. There's no education about why bottle fed babies should only be fed so often, and the fact that unlike breastfeeding mothers you can't simply feed your baby every time they cry. This can lead to weight gain and directly contribute to further weight problems later in life. I found all this out because that's what I do - if all else fails, I Google. But most mothers have none of this information, and if no one told me I'm guessing no one told them.

One of the hardships of breastfeeding is that you can never tell how much your baby's had, which means there's the possibility that every cry is a cry of hunger. With bottle feeding, this is much easier - when your baby breaks down after a 180mL bottle, there's no chance he's hungry. But hey, guess what, there is no way of knowing what (if anything) is wrong! So you need to learn other settling techniques, and fast. This is something else that I feel should be addressed IN HOSPITAL. Fortunately I couldn't wait to get involved in a mothers group and learnt many of these techniques at my local early childhood centre, but many women are unfamiliar with or uncomfortable using this resources.

Anyway, I was delighted a couple of weeks ago to stumble upon the Bottle Babies website, a resource developed entirely for bottle feeding Mums. Established by a group of Queensland Mums who, like myself, recognised the need for practical and emotional support for bottle feeding Mums, the site provides a wealth of information about formula, breastmilk donation, sterilisation, weaning and more. The site also relays stories from real Mums about why they chose (or were left with no choice but) to bottle feed, and how this affected their families.

I completely respect what the Breastfeeding Industry has done. They have contributed to the steady increase of breastfeeding (the most natural and normal way to feed) as well as fiercely campaigned for formula companies to continue to improve the quality of their products and be held accountable for their often misleading advertising campaigns. But I feel they need to accept the fact that Bottle Feeding mothers also need support, and that there is quite possibly a link between the pressure to breastfeed and the rise in conditions such as post-natal depression.

Did you know that formula is a SIDS risk? That is lowers your baby's IQ? That it contributes to obesity? That it increases your child's likelihood of contracting infections? That your child will only live to 35 if it is fed formula? Okay, I made that last one up, but you get the picture. It's not easy to be a bottle feeder. 


And for the record, my daughter is now a healthy, happy and very clever little girl. Imagine if she was breasted! ;-)

Z x

My Tiger

I was born in the Year of the Tiger. It was always something I was proud of, particularly as I was young for my year at school and all my mates were born in the Year of the Ox, which seemed entirely boring by comparison.

While I do have a fiery element to my personality I've never been much of a tiger. I'm too much of a people pleaser and hate to make people unhappy. I'm also not ferociously passionate about much, except my family of course, which may make me a tiger mother in years to come.

Little H was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Of course it's ridiculous to attribute personality traits based on a zodiac (or is it?) but so far my daughter has proven to be not much of a rabbit. She is my little tiger, a strong, fierce force to be reckoned with.

My husband can be shy, but is madly ambitious. I am outgoing but incredibly laid back. Somehow I always thought we'd produce a quiet, easygoing little girl. Not so. It seems she has gotten the more forthright elements of both our personalities - his drive and my confidence. A special combination.

She challenges us every day, but for each challenge she delights us twice. At not even two, she is one of the most independent spirits I have ever met. It sounds a little pathetic to say a toddler simply can't be told what to do, but I know her best, and I just know she'll be doing it her way for the rest of her life, not giving a stuff about what others want or think.

This won't be easy for her. People will love her, and others will find her difficult. She won't be the retiring fence-sitter who gets along with everyone. But she's clever enough to figure it out, and I'm already proud that she'll make her mark on this world.

My Mum came out to dinner with us the other night and took her off for a play with another toddler. Mum couldn't believe it;

"She was on all fours, going up to strange men and roaring at them like a tiger."

That's my girl.

Z x 

Birthdays

Tomorrow is my birthday. Hip hip hooray! I've always loved certain elements of birthdays - the giving and receiving of gifts, and the one day you can spoil and indulge yourself. Everyone deserves to indulge on their birthday.

That said, I've never been a huge fan of celebrating myself. I'm not sure why that is, but I think it comes down to a combination of anxiety over calling people together (what if no one has a good time, what if no one comes, and various other silly questions) and a fear of being the centre of attention. Don't get me wrong, I am not by any means a shy person (I picture those who know me reading that and laughing), but I don't like to call the spotlight to myself. I'm good enough at getting attention as it is!

Despite this, I chose to actually celebrate my birthday this year, albeit only with a small group of close friends. I have had a sort of BLERGH year up to now, essentially just with things not going my way but the year did begin with my grandmother passing and my eardrum bursting and I've joked that it's struggled uphill from there. So I thought, bugger it, I'm going to go out and drink too much and eat too much and force my friends to come along for the ride.

We had SUCH a fun night which started with dinner at our new local, The Balmain Hotel, where we ate their amazing duck steamed buns followed by red velvet cupcakes made exclusively for me by my AMAZING husband (isn't that impressive?!).

We were at a loss as to what to do next until my clever friend T suggested karaoke, an idea that was hugely well received! We dashed off to Ding Dong Dang's in Surry Hills, where we hired a large room between eight people (far too large, FYI) and sang the night away before it was over all too quickly. I really think we could have stayed here all night, but we hadn't pre-booked and there was no room at the inn. So we headed to a friend's to have a few more drinks and dance into the early hours. BLISS. Special thanks to my gorgeous Mum who travelled down to babysit, bless her!

Sadly by this point I had lost my voice. I'd had a bit of a cold to start with and was feeling pretty lousy, but my mood was greatly boosted by alcohol! Funny that! Needless to say, today I can't talk. Seriously, I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out. My throat is SOOOOO sore but I am sort of milking it by laying down and working from bed...so it's not all bad.

Anyway, now I've got my sights firmly set on the next two big birthdays in my life - my husband exactly one month after mine and our baby girl exactly one month after that. In my husband's family, birthdays involve a festival of celebrations. They all go completely over the top for their birthdays and they aren't ashamed of it. They love it.

I frequently refer to my husband's birthday as "The Festival of J," and last year we were in Germany for his AND his Mum's birthdays so it was a case of "The Festival of K & J, Germany" (literally, multiple events celebrating each of their birthdays. I think I counted five lavish celebrations) followed by "The Festival of J, Australia". The flip side to this is that he approaches my birthdays with the same attitude, giving me a "Birthday Weekend" (just passed) a "BirthDAY" (tomorrow) and a whole lot of gifts. What can I say, I hand selected him!

H & I after her 1st Birthday Party

We bring a shared love of birthdays and an even greater love of little H to the preparations for her big event. She will be turning two (can you believe it?!) and we will be having a "Star" themed bash to celebrate. While a star theme seems kind of random, if you knew her you would totally get it. It was one of her first words (she could pick a tiny star graphic out from far away at 12 months old, no kidding) and she is OBSESSED with stars. I'm not entirely sure how we're going to pull it off, I'm thinking "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" as the inspiration and will probably just pick a colour theme and then go NUTS with the stars. This will likely be H's version of heaven.

We learnt a lot from her first birthday party, and are planning to make the second a mostly adult event with just a couple of her closest friends and all of her favourite foods. It is, after all, "The Festival of H".

How do you celebrate birthdays? Is every birthday an over-the-top affair or do you prefer to hibernate and pray for it to be over like myself?

Z x 

The Over and Under Reactors

I am an archetype over reactor. Also known as anxious, paranoid and sometimes unstable, over reactors respond to a situation by playing the "Worst Possible Outcome" in their mind and immediately going into crisis mode, which may include tears, hyperventilation and cold sweats, and frequently involves a (generally unnecessary) trip to the emergency room.

Today I was reading a post by the lovely Mrs Woog on how she so oftenn over reacts, and did so in the case of her cat seeming under the weather, immediately forming the conclusion he'd been hit by a car.  Of course! Because that's the most logical explanation - I hear ya, sister.

Reading the comments I noticed people were firmly split into two groups - the "Yeah that is so me"'s and the "I am the opposite"'s. The over and under reactors. Which got me thinking; is it possible all people fall into one or the other category? Or are there people out there who respond completely appropriately to all manner of freak events?

Take my husband, for example. A classic under reactor. Thank GOD - I can't count the number of times he has talked me down from the edge. No, you don't have cancer. No, your parents haven't been killed in a car crash. No, I haven't noticed a weird spot/lump/mark anywhere on H's body. We're all okay.

He is fantastic in a crisis, always opting for the "stay calm, it's going to be fine" approach, regardless of the apparent severity of any incident. Blood? No problem. "A mere flesh wound" (sorry, nerdy Monty Python reference...)

Still, though, there are times when he just fails to react appropriately. Like, our child not breathing
normally is a serious thing. Having severe chest pains is serious. Me having a really bad day is very serious. GET BLOODY ANIMATED.

Which is where us over reactors come in. While we may always assume a rash is meningococcal or a graze needs stitches, sometimes there are situations in life where someone needs to take precautions. Someone needs to prepare for the "just in case" moments and be completely prepared for the worst outcome. Sometimes.

So, maybe it takes an over and under reactor to make a perfect match and live harmoniously together? I'm not sure, but I do know if I had to live with someone as anxious and over the top as myself we'd be in big trouble.

Are you an over reactor, or are you not at all fazed by life's sticky situations? Or, more likely, are you just a NORMAL person who thinks I'm over thinking things as usual?

Z x

Material Girl

I would like to think I'm not materialistic. Certainly not in the sense that I'd ever judge others by what they do or don't have - I really couldn't care less and have always been an "each to their own" kind of gal.

That said, I am completely hopeless with money and love to spend, spend, spend! Spending money on ANYTHING, even some half price Bonds socks from the supermarket, makes me feel good. Like, really good. Shopping is my drug, and I'm a total addict.

Recently I did a huge home clean out in the hope that HAVING less would make me WANT less (you know how that can sometimes be the case?) and it was actually kind of effective. I have lost that desire to go out and fritter money away on junk I don't need, because you know, how many striped t-shirts can one actually need? I'm also aiming to increase the Feng Shui factor in our home by de-cluttering and shifting the energy in certain rooms.

Unfortunately cleaning out our home has given me a new reason to spend. Homewares. I simply can't get enough. And the more research I do, the more I realise how much is out there and how many amazing possibilities there are. I realise this goes against the principle of de-cluttering, but I'm not talking knick knacks - I'm talking rugs, prints, bedspreads, cushions. Beautiful, unique items that really add something to a room while still giving me my spending hit.

Here are some of my most recent purchases...

- Gorgeous cushions from Sydney company Jennifer & Smith. These are brightening up our redecorated bedroom.

Love...these start at $100

- This very awesome print from Mini & Maximus. Can't decide if this is best placed in our room or if it's a kick ass poster for a hardcore little girl.

What a cool chick - $40 for the print

- This recycled plastic rug from Sydney Mum Phoenix Willow, who sells Balinese homewares and clothing via her Facebook page.

Just $60 for this rug, which we're putting in our office

- This Rabbit Lamp from Larkstore. 

Cute! $159.

- Some very cheap and cheerful storage boxes from Ikea for our new home office.

Kvittra Box, $7.99. Other designs available

On my wishlist?

- Pretty much any linen from Kip & Co. Pleeeeease!
- Some gorgeous planters from Sarai Homewares to brighten my front porch.
- Pia Wallen's beautiful Cross Blanket, available from Share Design.
- Pretty much anything I've pinned on my Pinterest page, the mecca of all my desires for home.

Little by little, our home is coming together. I'm beginning to think that when it's finally where we want it we'll be ready to move on! But the journey is just as important as the destination, or so I tell myself.

Z x