This is what procrastination looks like

At school you sometimes do this thing (the name of the thing escapes me at the moment) where you write up three titles (done in a y shape) The titles are "looks like" "sounds like" and "feels like" Well this is what procrastination looks, sounds and feels like to me when I should be writing reports. (Note: I was home today because Bennett has weak lungs that suck up all my sick time, I thought I should get some report writing done) It looks like: a clean bathroom - toilet, shower, sink floor all cleaned, it also looks like a tray of cupcakes all iced and decorated with sprinkles, and 2 loads of washing cleaned, dried and folded. It sounds like the tapping of my fingers on a keyboard (only I am online and not writing reports), it sounds like bacon and scrambled eggs cooking for brunch, and a child whinging and being placated with medicine and food. It also sounds like Oprah telling me how to live my life. It feels like a warm bed until 9:30 in the morning, but also pacing up and down the stairs all day with the vacuum cleaner and mop. It feels like a warm house and a full belly all day long, but mostly it feels like there is this nagging little creature following me around all day telling me quietly at first to write reports. He gets a little louder with each passing hour - until he is almost deafening and I finally relent. I have written half a class now and he has gone back to a whisper, but he sees me writing this post and is getting ready to pounce.

Turns out I am a mingle-tard

I am in a state of despair. It used to be that I was very good at the mingling. I now find that this skill has run away from me faster than a very fast thing. I am now a mingle-tard. This is a term I coined last night, please feel free to use it at your pleasure. I tried in vain last night to mingle and the party I may or may not have been invited to, but I just don't like small talk very much and mingling requires a lot of this. As the night wore on (and the vodka kicked in) I found it a little easier. I didn't start liking small talk all of a sudden, it was that I would just jump in at the deep end of the conversation. Sadly all this partying and mingling did not lead to any disastrous stories; and I only attracted the attention of one freak (very good going for a freak magnet)

The Budget!

This post is not really going to be about the budget - although I do feel like John Key has personally said to me "run out and buy yourself something pretty young lady" with the whole 14 dollars extra a week he has given me. But I guess with the added GST on the something pretty it will all be something pretty disappointing.
I may not really want to talk about the budget, but I do want to talk about the dangers of facebook, and to be precise the invitation aspect of facebook.
Tomorrow night I am going to a engagement party that I don't think I am really invited to. I was invited via facebook - and I gladly said yes, because quite frankly there were some rather dishy young men who had also said they were going; and as I may be turning into a cougar I thought I should go and practise my prowling skills. Here is the part of the story that reveals I may not have meant to be invited, but was just an accidental slip of the button on facebook. I bumped into the female half of the engaged couple as she was out shopping for, and I quote "shoes to wear to an engagement party" I replied, "How handy, you could also wear them to your own" she then said "if we have time to have one" Hmmmmmmm, I thought, that is awfully strange because according to your facebook page you have already booked out part of The Southern Cross and invited lots of guests (me included) and many people have said yes (also, me included) Are you telling me that you are now going to facebook them all and tell them that you actually don't have the time, even though you do have the shoes?? Nope, I don't think that is what she meant at all, I actually think she did not go through a process of selection on her facebook page and now she has a whole bunch of people coming who she does not really want to see (me included)
Oh well, never mind, I will just go a prowlin' in a pretty little outfit which will only cost me 14 dollars. Thanks again John.

Cougars - grotesque?

I am not sure what actually defines a cougar (not the animal) but I was pretty sure it was not this
"women pretending to be younger than they are...going out with unsuitably young things with whom they can barely communicate" As stated by Jane Clifton in her review of the new show Cougar Town. There are many things I disagree with Jane about, but lets start with the first two. One, I don't think the definition of cougar has to include "pretending to be younger" Correct me if I am really off the mark but most young, virile men don't care too much about the age of a woman (I am not talking 80 here) if she is willing to go to bed with him, so why pretend to be a different age? Secondly, why would the women care if they can communicate with them or not? I presume they don't want a serious relationship with this young guy, they are out for a good time - not much need to communicate past "get naked now"

Jane goes on to say about Courtney Cox in the lead "cougar" role:

"It simply defies all credibility that women this good-looking and financially savvy could be the slightest bit desperate about the things they are represented as being desperate about - in this case, getting a decent bloke."

What is she saying? Only ugly, poor woman can possibly be desperate to find a "decent" man? Yes Jane, it is just the ugly and poor that are left on the shelf - thanks for that morale booster!
Maybe I am big headed, but I don't think I am dog ugly, or really poor, yet I am quite desperate to find a decent man. I think the key word here is "decent" - Yes Courtney in her 40's could easily find a guy to date her, as could, and indeed have I. But NONE of them have been decent! Also most men my age, and my dear friend Courtney's are attached and have been for quite some years. Maybe young men are our only option for a bit of light hearted fun? Does that make us "grotesque" as Jane states? If so then bring on the grotesque! I am thinking of following Courtney's lead...

Making lemonade

I have been trying hard to make lemonade out of lemons that life keeps throwing at me, and when you are a full time working mother, life does tend to throw a few. At the moment I feel like the lemon tree of life is producing lemons at a faster rate than I can make lemonade. I find when this happens I do most things badly. Mostly I feel like no one is on my team, there is no one else to help pick up the lemons that are falling and rotting on the ground. Bennett is getting better at being a lemon gatherer but there are a few years to go before he can really help.
This may sound very negative, but I have been working hard on feeling positive all through new school, new house, sister with lump in breast (final results coming this week, fingers crossed), other sister with brain scans showing a funny lump (still no idea what that is), a huge rise in my panic attacks, feeling unwell, Bennett being sick etc etc etc...it has just come to a head. I want to get off for a breather.

sleeping to a symphony

Last night I went to sleep listening to a symphony. This sounds pleasant, but not when I tell you it was a symphony of drips coming through my window and ceiling into strategically placed buckets and icecream containers. All night long there was a constant drip, drip, drip. Ice cream containers make a different sound to buckets when filling with water. The bucket was catching three drips at once, so had a much fuller sound, the lazy ice cream containers only catching one drip had a loud echoy pling to them. I finally drifted off to sleep when I had become some what accustomed to the sound only to be awoken later to a different sound. Water hitting wood and carpet - this added a new tune to the orchestra in my bedroom. Sadly the wood it was hitting was my bookcase. So at 2.30 in the morning I found myself drying books. The mental pain I felt at this point is not something I can describe.
Here I would like to draw your attention to the tv show, I Shouldn't Be Alive because I am feeling somewhat akin with them. On this show you often wonder, things could not get worse for these people, only to find it does (hence the title of the show I guess). Here I sat in my room drying books, thinking innocently and probably somewhat naively that things could not get worse. It was as I was drying the books that i noticed that the water that had dripped onto them had a horrible odour to it. I thought it was maybe the smell of the inner dust etc of the wall but later when the rain subsided a bit and the dripping ceased, some creatures started moving around in the wall. Yep, rats. They were obviously just as upset as me that their home had been flooded and they were setting about making it ok by gnawing, chewing and moving. It was at this moment I realised the smelly water coming through the ceiling was probably filled with rat feces. Excellent. When will the rescuers come and rescue me like they do on the end of I Shouldn't Be Alive? Or are things still going to get worse?

prodical mother

Tonight I feel like a very good mum. Yesterday I cooked a brand new meal for tea. These two statements may not seem like they are related but they are! To feel like a good mum I have to have a pretty good run(not physical run, since I am obviously allergic to exercise) but a good run at mothering. It is impossible to feel like a really good mum if I just do one nice thing, I have to do multiple things in a row without any bad things interrupting the flow. The flow of the last 24 hours started with dinner last night. I cooked a new meal; this always goes down well with Bennett (who likes to think of himself as some Michelin star chef although he had never even raised a cutting knife; except when unloading the dishwasher) There were no real compliments from Bennett as he ate my Thai green curry, but he did do his judges at Masterchef impersonation, which he only does when he is eating something he enjoys. Tick one to Mum. Later that night we read the 7th chapter of Tomorrow When The War Began together. He loves it when I read to him and I love it when I can ask him recall and inference questions. Tick two to Mum and Teacher. This morning I got Bennett into the shower without complaint, picture my amazed face here! Tick three to Mum. Tonight I baked two batches of brownies, always a winner. Tick four to Mum and Betty Crocker. Also, tonight we got through Maths homework with only one argument, this is actually a miracle on par with a statue of Jesus crying. Tick five to Mum (no thanks to stupid schools that give pointless homework) Feeling very smug. Will now go and tell Bennett it is bed time and hope that it does not ruin the dream run.

Mother's day

"Smile Bennett, make it look like you love me"

I do love this boy a lot, and I am very glad that I am his mother. Mother's day however is not really a day when I get to celebrate it, or even sit back and relax reaping in pressies while I contemplate the joys of motherhood.
Unlike some 12 year old boys, or children in general, my son does not have a father that goes out and buys a gift and then gets the child to give it to the mother, nor does he have a father who can remind him it is mother's day and get him to make breakfast in bed for the joyus mother. 12 year old boys do not think to do these things themselves. So my mother's day was the true, gritty kind. My friend suggested that we meet for brunch; I told Bennett this would be his Mother's day gift to me (him coming with me for brunch)His response was something along the lines of "WHAT!?!(said in loud, whiney voice) I would rather eat my own sock" Ok, he didn't really say he would rather eat his own sock, he said something a little harsher, but for the record eating his sock would be an excruciating punishment, since smelling his socks is something the Chinese could have used as an alternative to water torture. Anyway after much threatening to take away internet and TV privileges he decided he could indeed force himself to come with me. So in the end my Mother's day ended up with me pushing my son out the door to come and eat with me, me buying him a hearty a delicious brunch of French toast, then me taking him out clothes shopping. And he needed those clothes thanks to a very large growth spurt, and we did indeed have a good time, I can't help feeling like I landed in some strange parallel universe where it was Mothers spoil your child day.

bothersome

I have two things that are rather bothersome to me at the moment, and since I love to share...
The first bothersome thing is something(or things to be more accurate) that I have been inflicted with for years. Insomnia - sometimes I get mild patches where I lose a couple of hours sleep a night. Although this is annoying, it is manageable. Then I get the real bad kind, where i get about 2 or if I am lucky 3 hours sleep a night. This worse variety causes the second something - panic attacks. I first started getting these when I started going to University and I was suffering from lack of sleep due to writing essays in the middle of the night. The first time I had one I thought I was dying, I thought there was no way your heart could race that fast without some serious damage (plus I had no idea it was a panic attack or even what they were) I usually get these in the middle of the night when I am suffering from lack of sleep - they are scary, even though I know what they are, and sometimes I still feel like I could die (this is mostly cause adrenaline is pumping around my body at a phenomenal rate and it does not make my brain think clearly) I hate when this happens cause I get worried another one will happen and then it becomes a viscous circle. I need distraction right up until the moment I fall asleep otherwise my stupid little brain can work itself up into one.
One thing that has been distracting me lately, and is perhaps something I should have been thinking about at night instead of panic attacks, is the mysterious smell in my car. I have been on the hunt for this mysterious smell for days. I thought I had located it once when I found a container with some dodgy looking food in it. Happily I discarded it thinking I would finally have a car that didn't want to make me vomit when I hopped in, no longer would I have to wind down the windows on a freezing morning while I drove to work in a vain attempt at breathing non stench laden air. But alas, you see where this story is going, it turned out not to be the source of the smell. Then I was momentarily happy again when I found a stain on a mat, but that also turned out to be nothing but a harmless non-odourous mark. Then tonight as I was driving home, windows down, plug in air freshner on full blast I glanced over the back and saw a very thick, brown ominous stain on a blanket that had been brought into the car just over a week ago. I wanted to sing, dance and puke when I got home to discover it was cat poo(or possibly vomit, hard to tell)Mystery solved! Now I only wonder how long the smell will hang around, how much of it has forever permeated its way into the seat coverings?

Good morning - is it?

I woke up with a strange feeling today - I didn't want to go to school. I don't feel like teaching today even though I have a fairly easy day ahead of me. I just don't feel like conversing, explaining things and answering questions (vital teaching tools, AWOL today) What I feel like doing is staying in bed all day, without any interruptions from anyone, and watching dvds on my laptop. I hate those days when even saying good morning in fake cheeriness is a struggle.