Traveling With The Hillbillly Parentals

July 28, 2014 by Vicki

luggageWhilst you’re reading this I am probably on my way to the airport or battling through the crowds of the airport or somewhere in transit towards my slice of paradise with my gaggle of dependents.

I’ve had a few traveling companions in my time but my least favorites would have to be my parentals.

Guess who’s tagging along?

If looking after two small children traveling isn’t stressy enough feeling like I’m responsible for four is nothing short of meltdown city. My Vickletz and my parentals, who are probably about on par in terms of helpfulness in the travel scenario will be both under my wing. Don’t get me wrong my parents are lovely, cute I’ve even been told but they’re in their 70′s and they’re bordering on being seriously hillbilly. They are farming types who for the majority of their life have been tied to the land and it’s many responsibilities. They’ve had to say no so many times as they were in the trenches of hard work and permanent residents in struggle town. There was never the time or money for long distance trips and there certainly has been no big retirement, European trip or bussing about New Zealand or anything exciting like that. My parents have barely even left the state. Of course they’ve popped over the Murry River a couple of times to mosey about and say they’ve been to NSW but does that really count? I think not. Needless to say, this will be Dad’s virgin voyage on a plane. He has lived 72 years in this existence and he has seen and lived many things but not the exhilaration of flying. That blows my aeroplane loving mind.

Whilst we always had family holidays growing up they generally were local only being an hour or two down the road. Sure, they can pull a caravan but otherwise they’re not terribly travel savvy. If it wasn’t for me booking and navigating this whole expedition they’d still be going to and fro on their rocking chairs back on the farm.  They’re cluey as anything when it comes to animals, growing crops of vegetables, harvesting hay and pickling anything but out in a fast passed scenario polluted with a crowd of people they are like a flock of dummy sheep. Easily spooked and easily scattered. Of course in these situations of rising (unnecessary) panic their automatic response is to bicker. Public bickering can be a hobby for them actually. There’s no shame in a few snappy words at your spouse for all surrounding to feel totally awks. That’s what 49 years of marriage does to you.

I tend to tolerate this public shower of cranky cranks for a limited time before I start narkin’ up myself to try and shut them right up. Unfortunately my good intentions usually resolve to just a whole lot of hushed curses with a tense crescendo before a veil of silence transcends us all. I usually also get a scolding from Mr Vick in there somewhere for getting involved and for letting my upbeat attitude spoil.  Of course he’s just putting himself in the firing line then. So it’s happy happy all round!

My Dad is the ultimate people watcher. Seriously we can leave him on a bench and shop up a storm for a good hour and he’d be happy just there taking notes on individuals. If we’re with him he will observe and commentate back at a volume just a few decibels off a shout which makes me wish my super power was the ability to become invisible quick fast. I will never forget the day I took him to the city and he witnessed his first raging drag queen who he gawked, chucked and pointed at like as if drag types are vision impaired and impartial to such rudeness. I had to look around and make sure no one was going to deck him.

Then’s there’s his ability to strike up a one sided conversation with some unknowing stranger which predictably will be about the marvels of flying or, and this is a well worn in favorite, “I wouldn’t mind a dollar for every person that went by here every day”.  It just wouldn’t be an outing without an awkward conversation with a stranger. I pity the poor person who will be seated next to him during our flight. Three and half hours next to someone who has little instinct for knowing when to shut the heck up would be quite grating I imagine.

Whilst I realise this this post has made my olds out to be nothing more than pain in the arse, weirdo types, they’re actually not. I’m just an argumentative daughter that somehow reverts back into a teenager in their presence. They have a sweet, innocent view of the world and believe in the goodness of all people. They are wonderful with our boys. My Dad is a magnet which draw in little Vickletz like salt to the sea.

In fact I can’t help but feel I need to treasure this trip with the hillbillies. I don’t know if it’s all the recent disasters that has tainted my disposition with sentimentality or not, but I know when you have parents in their 70′s you have to presume that this could very well be the first and last plane trip we all share together, bickering and stranger conversations and all.

As much eye rolling as they induce, I quite like their strange little quirks. One day I will miss them.

Have you traveled with your parents or is it a no go danger zone?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess at #IBOT

(Luggage image source)

An Interview With The Husband: Mr Vick On The Blog!

July 25, 2014 by Vicki

I’d like to get in with the cool crowd so I’m tagging along (ie. copying) with this little writing idea which the great Kylie Purtell started. Then other cool cats like Renee at Mummy, Wife, Me and Em over at Have A Laugh On Me also went there and a whole gaggle of bloggy stars, so now it’s my go.

Drum roll please: Introducing Mr Vick is on the blog. Huzzah!

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Yep it’s the guy who will hate having his picture up right there. He’s talking to me on the blog. This post even.

I got my journo on and conducted an interview with Mr Vick last night. I was taking it very seriously with my Dictaphone (OK, it was my iPhone) and laptop at hand but admittedly it was after a very long day and Mr Vick was virtually zombie-fied with zany sense of humor intact. I guess what I’m trying to confess is it didn’t go as swimmingly as I’d hoped. In fact I’d say a DIVORCE is sounding fairly imminent!!!

Prepare to behold the most irritating interview ever.

What’s the best thing about being married to Vicki?

Mr Vick: Ahhhhhhhh….. can we pass and come back to that one?

Vicki: (giggles) really? OK

What’s the worst thing about being married to Vicki?

(Groans)  What a question…. (long pause) you said this wouldn’t take long and it wouldn’t be hard, (whining like a toddler) this is the hardest thing I’ve had to do all day (note: he had an assessment at uni today playing geek and examining cells). Can you give me a clue?

Vicki: What? A clue?

Mr Vick (eventually): When I ask you to sew a button on  and it sits on the pile for months and months until I do it myself

Vicki (laughs proudly before shifting gears): You better not just talk about me like I’m nothing more than a housewife. People will loath you.

Mr Vick (laughs): It’s all I could think of

What is Vicki’s most annoying habit?

Mr Vick (confidently): When you stick your finger in your ears and you scratch like you have a nervous twitch.

Vicki: Um… (giggles) OK. My ear gets itchy.

Mr Vick: I have told you about this. I’ve tried to get you to deal with it for a long time. (Checking) did you write that down?

Vicki: I’m recording you, yes.

What is Vicki’s most endearing habit?

(Mr Vick groans loudly)

Vicki (disapproving): This is like getting blood out of a stone

Mr Vick (sounding delirious): How can anyone married deal with these questions?

Vicki (perplexed): What?

Mr Vick: They’re too hard.

Vicki (irritated): Oh….. this is not good. COME ON! Just think of something you like.

Mr Vick: I like that you make me cookies.

Vicki (inner feminist gasps): What? (I made cookies for the first time yesterday in months)

Mr Vick: I guess that’s not really a habit is it? I don’t really like habits.

Vicki: Is there something that I do that you like? Something I do regularly?

Mr Vick: Not really

(Vicki has mouth gaping unaware if this guy is plain stupid or trying to stir the pot)

Mr Vick (relenting): OK. You’re kindhearted.

What do you admire about me?

Mr Vick: Um… (long pause)… um… (long pause)… um… I don’t know. Actually I admire your  extraordinary mothering skills.

What was the first thing that attracted me to you?

Your smile

What do you enjoy the most about being a Dad?

Mr Vick: The reaction from the boys when I get home at the end of the day

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What do you least enjoy about being a dad?

Mr Vick(with a weary demeanor): Getting up at night. Sleepless nights. Sleepless days. Never getting enough sleep.

Vicki: That answer came easily.

What was your favorite thing to do with Vicki pre-kids?

Mr Vick: Having sex.

Vicki: Is that it?

Mr Vick: Yep. It only had to be one thing right?

Vicki: I guess.

What is your most hated household chore?

Mr Vick: That I do myself?

Vicki: Yes

Mr Vicki: All of them. Cleaning the shower. Picking up the dog poo. Um.

Vicki: So that would be all of them then.

Mr Vicki: I don’t mind those two actually

Vicki: You’re contradicting yourself!

Mr Vick (changing his mind): I don’t like hanging the washing out. Lucky you do that. I’m grateful to you for doing that. (It dawns on him) Ahhh… (shit stirring glint in his eye) that’s my favorite thing about you!

Vicki (irritability rising): That’s your favorite thing about me entirely?

Mr Vick: Yes

Vicki (murderous thoughts growing): WHAT?

Mr Vicki: This is a good thing. (Celebrating) I had an epiphany!

Vicki (has epiphany): I have no idea why you’re married to me! You could get lots of people to do your washing for you.

Mr Vick: (Smirking) then I’d have to pay them!

Vicki (taking the bate): You could get a 94 year old to do it and you wouldn’t have to pay her!!  She’d probably pay you!!

Mr Vick: I like watching you do it. I would not enjoy watching a 94 year old do it.

Vicki: (unimpressed) This is weird.

What’s your favorite thing to cook?

Mr Vick: Um….(pause)….just putting ingredients together that are in the house.

(Vicki has bemused look on face and decides to move on)

What do you think annoys Vicki most about you?

Mr Vick (groans): Where to start…. um… the way I look.

Vicki: What?

Mr Vick: The way I look, the way I think…

Vicki: Can you be less generalised?

Mr Vick: OK. I think you think I’m fat.

Vicki: (Shocked – gasps). I don’t think you’re fat.

(Mr Vick smirks. Vicki is left confused if there is any truth in this)

What do you think I love about you?

Mr Vick: I don’t think you love anything about me.

Vicki: (Combusts) oh stop feeling sorry for yourself!

Mr Vick: I’m being honest

Vicki: STOP IT. DON’T BE RIDICULOUS.

Mr Vick: You’ve never told me anything you love about me

Vicki: DON’T BE RIDICULOUS!

Mr Vick: Give me a clue.

Vicki: (scoffs) This is ridiculous (she is unsure if this is all a send up but sure feels irritated)

Why do you think Vicki is lucky to be married to you?

Vicki (warning): Don’t have a poor me answer buster!

Mr Vick: I don’t think you’re lucky (laughs)

Vicki: This is WOEFUL. Just think about it.

Mr Vick (dramatic sulking) I think I’m a burden to you.

Vicki: Oh turn it up! Why do you think that?

Mr Vick: Because of the way you’re looking at me right now!

(Vicki looking ready to kill)

What do you think the secret to a happy marriage is?

Mr Vick: Sex. Lots of sex.

Vicki (rolls eyes): Anything else?

Mr Vick: Um. Talking about sex?

(Both laugh)

Mr Vick: Space. Lots of space.

Vicki: Sex AND space? How does that work? …. Ya know, don’t worry. This is over. End of interview. You can go into the other room now. Please. Like seriously, go.

And he wonders why sex is virtually a past time?

That right there peeps is a fine example of a husband winding up one wifey who has no idea, despite being a victim of it for nearly 13 years, that it’s even happening. I promise he’s not a clueless or sexist individual. He’s actually very charming and charismatic but they were on holidays at the time of the interview clearly.

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Have you ever asked your husband these questions? Does your husband tell you what you want to hear or does his toy with you?

What do you think makes a marriage work?

The Food Coma in Timboon!

July 21, 2014 by Vicki

Nostalgia, that was the theme of my Sunday just gone. Lucky I like being nostalgic.

Ya see, my Mumma turns 70 shortly and the extended fam bam gathered to eat a whole lotta food in honor of the food loving 70 year old herself. Eating is quite a hobby for my family. We all have the pot bellies to prove it.

Somewhere my mum had been wanting to get her eat on at is the Timboon Railway Shed Distillery.  A quaint restaurant nestled in the tree filled, rural township of Timboon, approximately 3 hours from Melbourne to the south west.

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I know Timboon well. I spent my childhood years there. It was the very place where I was educated and grew into an adult. I did lots of dreaming in Timboon. I sure got up to lots of no good there. I had a lot of firsts in Timboon. I developed life long friendships and at the risk of sounding elderly I had some of the best years of of my life, to date, in Timboon.

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Timboon still feels homely. It’s a fair indication that a place is apart of you when you swerve your car in anticipation for the craters pot holes in the road that were there a decade ago (….and still are). I went into reminiscing overload being in this little town on Sunday.

Timboon is a place generally occupied by people who know the land and work the dairy farm industry. It’s a casual kinda place. The Timboon Railway Shed Distillery however bought a whirl of excitement to this town who had nothing more than a tiny takeaway store that boasted a good bucket of chips with chicken salt. The buzz of the distillery has been felt far and wide drawing visitors headed to the close by 12 Apostles and those just out for a leisurely Sunday drive. What’s exciting about it is that it showcases a wide range of local produce. From pork, to cheese, to the infamous Timboon Fine Ice Cream – it’s virtually produced on the farms surrounding the township and I kinda like supporting that.

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Of course we weren’t there just to look at it all. Eating was on the agenda so eating we did. We were in food coma territory no doubt. Allow me to share some food porn:

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Looks alright yeah? THAT’S what the buzz is all about at the Timboon Railway Shed Distillery. Then there was this, compulsory ice cream:

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No joking about the compulsory thing. It comes with many meals on the menu and certainly no members from my family were knocking it back. The kids were happy dancing all day about it. I have one piece of advice for you – salted caramel, all the way.

Of course it isn’t all about the ice cream. There’s a bit of plonk on site too. That’s the way I remember it. As an underage teenager I guzzled sneaky, cheapo shots of plonk in the old deserted railway shed before it became the classy joint it is today and here I am 13 years on all grown up, with two kidlets dragging of me and sipping some way classy drops, legally and all. Quite the juxtaposition I’d say.

The whiskey is brewed right in front of you. It’s all there for your tasting delights. I personally loved their strawberry schnapps.

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My Mum, not even on the whiskey, smiled all day long. I don’t remember seeing her smile so much. I suppose I’d be in the same delighted state too if my husband and daughter (that would be moi) had organised a sneaky interstate trip to the tropics as a gift!

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So I departed Timboon with a full belly, delicious liquor on my tongue and full of happy images running through my head. On the long drive home I was full of “when I was younger” stories which Mr Vick dutifully listened to and nodded his head. I felt high on that slice of nostalgia.

I think I’ll always remember that smile on my Mums dial and another day of memories which were created for the bank in Timboon.

Do you ever visit your home town? Do you like a good session of reminiscing?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess at #IBOT

Click!

July 17, 2014 by Vicki

My SLR camera has been getting far too dusty thanks to my Iphone. I’ve decided to change this and work up my skills in manual shooting. I can’t pretend to know anything about it. My type of photo taking is to take 20, delete 18 and then pretend I’d taken just the remaining two which are pretty pro-tastic straight off the bat!

Of course nothing fandango amaze-balls really happens in my life to photograph, currently, so it’s just the day to day stuff that I’m practicing on. I’m discovering that the mundane crapola can look kinda beautiful through the lens. What do you think? Untitled design(10)

 

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1. Baby Vick newly turned fussy eater has a gnaw on some old school toast

2. Little feet dangling under the table

3. Husband and I share a moment. We are old people who love tea and backgammon

4. Our retro vintage telephone which I bought on Ebay for more than what I should have, only for it to not work. Now turned toy.

5. Bestie arrived with cupcakes. This is the moment Little Vick noticed.

6. Little Vick is in training to be an old person too. He loves a tea with honey.

7. The fire bike. Or scooter. Whatever.

8. Genius baby at work here. He pushed this chair over so he could check out the toaster. Kitchen gate coming right up!

9. Celebrating his genius chair pushing moment

What’s your favorite? Do you have an SLR or are you an Iphone kinda photographer?

Gunky Eyes, Dud Squirt-ers & A Family Vacay!

July 14, 2014 by Vicki

Remember last week I was singing praises (and wiggling my butt) about rekindling my mojo?

Mozzed myself, or us anyway. The fam bam is up the put.

Baby Vick, the true trouper out of us all has been struck down with some sneaky sniffle, croupy cough and conjunctivitis. Such a dreadful nuisance that conjunctivitis business. Poor soul has been screaming out to me all hours of the night because his eyes are stuck closed from gunk. I’d feel freaked too.

Squirt breast milk in the eye, they say to treat it. Now for all those non mothers or those unaware, yes, breast milk has super powers beyond it’s common use. It heals shit. My breast is the most convenient chemist I know.

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So squirting milk in an eye… sound easy?

Let’s just say I was about as good at it as a man aiming in the dunny bowl, ya know? Fricken hopeless. Although I did manage to get it in his hair, ear and even up his nose. It bought the poor kid to tears. Not only was he freaked ‘cos he had woken up with his eyes stuck together but now he was freaked because his mother was strangely squirting milk in his ear!! Wrong body part Mumma!!

I got a bit in his eye eventually, I think, before I put the dud shooting squirt-ers away. I think we might be visiting the real dealo chemist today.

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Mr Vick also seems out of sorts and troubled with life too so I think this is all indicating one thing. Family vacay required. I must have known when I booked this 6 months ago that this week was going to present some serious crapola and nicking off to where the palms sway in the warm breeze would be the only medication required.

In two weeks time, to the day, we will be putting the gunky eye’d baby on an aeroplane to Port Douglas, QLD.  I can’t get that sun on my ghastly white limbs quick enough I tell ya! Vitamin D me up!

I’m doing everything I can to stop myself from packing right now since packing a suitcase does not actually make a vacay arrive any sooner.

We won’t talk about how we will manage Baby Vick-I-won’t-be-held-down-or-sit-still-ever on the plane but we will talk villas, sunshine and foodie delights. In fact, I’d actually prefer you to do the talking. I need to know the know about Port Douglas. No doubt many of you have done the research for me. Can you word me up about what we need to visit and see in Port Douglas? And whilst you’re at it, any advice regarding the dud squirt-ers conjunctivitis?

 Today I’m linking up with  Essentially Jess for #IBOT

Dancing into Change

July 11, 2014 by Vicki

I got my laptop out and turned on some loud music last night. It’s becoming a regular event. A little bit of pre dinner disco never hurt anyone.

Something seems to switch on inside the Vicklets when I turn on the tunes. It’s an instant mood escalator.

Little Vick is always quick to demand make music requests and I’ve got to tow the line or his grizzilator will unleash and the fun is all over.  Generally we groove up a storm to an eclectic playlist including The Wiggly Woo and Are You Gonna Be My Girl.

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Whilst watching little people bop brings a smile to my face I have recently been getting amongst it myself. I want to be that fun mum occasionally so I spur myself on with an internal pep talking saying ‘come on lady, move!” I release my body and bend and bop and twirl and shake in the most ridiculous fashion and the Vicklets look surprised momentarily before they grow wide grins and join back in with new vigor. The anti has been upped.

Let’s be clear, I’m glad no one else can see me. I look the epitome of a dork x a million.

We parade about the lounge room like jiving banshees releasing any small pockets of energy that may have survived the long day. It’s all a bit of a strategic plan. With long days of winter sentencing us to be captives of the house, these boys who could climb jungle trees 300 times an hour, need wearing out. I want zonked boys begging for bed. You see what I’m doing here? It’s a beautiful thing.

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The Vicklets move about bopping and wiggling and I copy and sing, loudly, so loudly that I wonder if our new neighbors from Dubai are wondering if this is some crazy Australian behavior that they’re going to have to put up with. Little Vick sings too, often unknowingly sprouting lyrics of gibberish. The only interruption is Baby Vick slapping down his palms all over my laptop keys which makes me want to have a small conniption. Not my technology baby! In one swift motion I swoop up my laptop and place it on top of the piano. The baby smasher stops.

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We resume. The boys and I move with the same vibration. We can’t help but smile. It’s the type of smiling that feels good. It’s healing, it’s breaking the chains away, it’s bonding, it’s fun.

We are mid air drumming when Mr Vick arrives home only for him to be instantaneously contaminated with our giggles and wiggles. He jumps about in some sort of moshing style which encaptures his Metallica loving youth and moments later we follow suit. Even Baby Vick moshes on his knees.

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Tea has been left to burn. Meh.

Feck, this is what happens when I start getting five hours of unbroken sleep. I start enjoying myself, giving to my boys and living life again. The power of sleep is nothing short of completely miraculous. Who would have thought?

And ya know what? Baby Vick leaned in and gave me a kiss today. First time. First Baby Vick kiss. I squealed. I was delighted. He did it again and again on command. I want this stage to last forever. I know it will not. I’ve decided I must milk it. Smoother myself in enough baby kisses to last the rest of my lifetime for when the boys become potentially allergic to affection.

And just like that the clutches of that new baby stage is finally releasing. We are dancing into change. We are relaxing. Finding our feet. Moving on. Reaping in the rewards of the hard work. Savoring the moments. Laughing. Talking. Connecting.

I cannot tell you how relieved I am. I have never sighed such a big mofo of a sigh in my entire existence.

So, life come get me. I’m now ready again.

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Wordless Wednesday: City

July 8, 2014 by Vicki

Last week we indulged in some Melbourne meanderings. The Vicklets have inherited my adoration for the city. They buzz with stimulation and marvel at the trams, the water fountains, the helicopters passing over, the big buildings even the scabby seagulls.

I usually long to be a city slicker again when I visit but I know that I am where I need to be and for now and city visits will just have to be a treat.

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 St Pauls Cathedral and the iconic Melbournian tram st pauls cathedral

 Bourke Street Mall bourke st mall

Looking up at the corner of Collins and Swanston Street

cityMy boys… bringing back fluro and winter brights

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And oh my beating heart… my favorite image from the day:

Flynn 12 monthsBaby Vick; tram virgin no longer

 

The Liebster Awards! Yip Yip!

July 8, 2014 by Vicki

Hold up! I got an email a month or so back saying I’d been given some award basically for bloggy brilliance amongst my comrades. I was wrapped don’t doubt it, but I promptly forgot. Typical of my sleep starved brain. Then, I got another email delivering ego inflating news…. the same bloggy award but from another blogger! Totes stoked that people actually read this space and would go out of their way to sing it’s praises! Winning!

So, the low down is this: I was given 2 Liebster awards which are awarded by fellow bloggers who read and rate the blog. It’s basically a public encouragement award for those with a growing audience. Sure, it’s not an Pulitzer, or an Oscar or even a Kidspot Social Voices Award BUT in this line of doing-it-for-the-love-of-it blogging, I’ll take any snaps I can get.

The two lovely blogs that dished the Liebsters to me are The Good Girl Confessional and Seeing The Lighter Side of Parenting. Thanks girlfriends!

Part of the deal is, you link back to whom awarded the Leibster, answer their nominated questions and then nominate new blogs that you have a crush on for a Liebster and determine a new set of questions. Easy peasy! So here are my answered questions (I’ve combined both lots of questions) and who knows, you might learn a piece or two of useless information about me!

1. What inspired you to start your blog and why do you keep blogging?

I was told to. Two of my friends thought I should share my tales of my knocked up, backpacking antics around Europe ‘cos ya know, not everyone is that bonkers to do that! Whilst I have shared a number of my adventurer tales on this space it is predominantly not a travel space but foremost a parenting/groovy woman kinda community all with a bit of shits and giggles in between. I love what it’s grown into. I love communicating and connecting, that’s why I continue to write and reach out.

2. Winter or Summer person?

I complain about both, lets be honest, and when I’m in one I want the other. I love the productivity that summer brings. I buzz with motivation when the sun is out and warming. I love daylight savings too yet there is nothing like sitting in a cosy, warm house watching the forces of a blustery winter swirl past.

3. Do you have pets?

I have a black half halfy of every breed (Blue Heeler, Border Collie, Lab…) called Dodger. He is big, energetic and bordering on overly friendly. He thinks he’s one of us and generally seems quite intelligent in terms of doggy brains. With that said he is petrified of thunder and the love of his life is a tennis ball.

4. Champagne or spirits?

I’m not fussy. Alcohol is alcohol and it deserves consuming. I do fancy a nice pink champers but.

5. Heels or flats?

I have a wardrobe of sexy heels from my pre Vicklets days. They’re class but admittedly dusty. If I put shoes on, it’s flats. Snore!

6. Favorite book?

My latest favorite book is Burial Rites by Hannah Kent. A dark but compelling read so skillfully written. Other favs include The Red Tent, Desert Flower, Fortunes Rocks and Lunch in Paris.

7. Bed time attire – PJ’s or Lingerie?

PJ’s of the very unsexy flannelette variety. I don’t want to give my husband too many ideas.

8. Who’s on the top of your music play list right now?

Coldplay, London Grammar, Once, Daughter, Vance Joi, Sia and Stacey Kent

9. Movies or theatre?

Both but I do have a subscription to the state theatre company (MTC) so I can be found at the theatre on a monthly basis and given my old life was virtually in the theatre (retired actress) I have friends I have to support. Have to, ya know? So you could say I’m a regular on the theatre scene but I do love to hit the cinema up particularly during Oscars season!

10. What are you working on creatively currently?

My creativity is virtually zilch at the moment. Sadly. I’m all about getting my mojo back which will be possible with a growing intake of sleep and it’s a comin’! More sleep and more brain function is starting to reveal itself to me. So look out, more singing in the shower and bad sewing jobs coming up very soon!

So now it’s my turn to pay it forward and peeps, let me tell you, you need to get on these blogs I am about to list below. They’re doing some spunky posts that you need to discover if you have not already. I’ve opted to only chose 5 blogs to pay a Liebster forward ‘cos who has the time to sift through 10 of them?! Rebecca at Seeing the Lighter Side of Parenting got me onto this half a Liebster idea, so I’m running with it.Half Leibster Award

My 5 blogs being awarded are:

 Lentil and Mint

Little Wolff

Mumma Tells

Esme and the Laneway

Raising Master Max

and my 5 questions for you lot are:

1. What age and whom did you share your first kiss with?

2. When you have some down time what are you likely to be found doing?

3. When you were a child you used to fantasize about becoming whom?

4. What is your weakness?

5. Favorite blog post and why?

Look forward to reading what you come up with it! Peace out x

Wordless Wednesday: Stuck On The Outside

July 1, 2014 by Vicki

Are they in there?

1-DSC_0919Yes, yes they are. 1-1-DSC_0912Phew!

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Slumber Come At Me: The Woeful Tales of A Night Weaning Mombie

June 30, 2014 by Vicki

It isn’t all caterpillar birthday parties and weekends away in this house. I thought I would let you in on a little secret about the reality here.

Baby Vick, at 12 months of age, still wakes up every 3 hours throughout the night demanding some boobin’ action just as he did as a newborn. That means I have been getting up 2, 3 and sometimes even 4 times a night. For 12 months. None stop.

I know right{image}

So when I say I know sleep deprivation, I’m not shittin’ ya. It has stolen me for the past 12 months although it wasn’t something I’m a stranger too. Little Vick was also a night guts too so it didn’t come as a shock. What is shocking is that I have learned to feel somewhat normal on 4-5 hours of broken sleep a night. My normal is clearly not any form of normal normal.

Some days I can function, be relatively productive and even smile. Some other days you will see me out looking sprightly and on top of things but I’m pretending. I’ve become a professional pretender. Other days I wake and from that very moment I know it’s going to be a bugger of a day. The fog is so heavily set in my head that I can do nothing but grouch about and make everyone else feel just that little bit miserable too because I’m battling. That’s something I’m not proud of but it’s part of the auto pilot mode of stale living. The wash of fatigue is debilitating. I can’t achieve the most basic of tasks like exercise or muster up the energy for some basic household chores, I can’t think rationally, stay calm, recall what I did 3 days ago not to mention 3 months ago, I can’t find the words I wish to use, I struggle to concentrate during conversations and most sadly I can’t enjoy my boys. It was that realisation that hit hard.

Mombie{Image}

About a month ago I decided I’d had enough. No more Mombie, it was time to take the reigns back.

Previously it had been easier to get up and just feed Baby Vick and Mr Vick had made a huge change this year and headed back to study. I didn’t want to burden him with resettling a stubborn baby throughout the night and then having to go and endure a 6 hour chemistry tutorial. That is not anyone’s idea of fun BUT, he went on holidays and I knew it was my moment. Mr Vick was very willing (he wanted his wife back) and actually banished me to my sister in laws house overnight as he thought he would be more successful if I wasn’t in the vicinity. I was apprehensive and elated about this!! A night in bed without any threat of disturbance!? I felt like I was departing for an international holiday even though I ended up not really being able to sleep. Oh the irony! That night Baby Vick managed really well and resettled relatively quickly after reassurance from his Dad. This gave us all hope that we had made the right decision and that we would all be sleeping like hibernating bears in no time. We should have known things often don’t come that easy. Little Vick went into hospital with croup, we all got colds which lasted a small lifetime, there was some aggravating teethy business and then Mr Vick, my baby whisper, went on the Great Ocean failure hike and all the training went by the wayside. I become even more exhausted than before and disheartened. I was going to be the boobin’ slave forever.

sleeping flynn 9 monthsThe sleeping angel? Don’t believe it

So we find ourselves in the here and now. Attempting again at this night weaning gig praying for a full night of slumber. Baby Vick seems to accept he won’t get his boobs now when he calls out and he actually settles beautifully just from the mere sight of Mr Vick but the calling out so frequently just hasn’t stopped and he wants to permanently attached to my hip daytime long (I can get nothing done).  We’ve been at it a week now and he still gets Mr Vick up 2 or 3 times. It’s killing him. Let’s just say he has a new appreciation for what I’ve been doing for 12 months and a greater understanding of just how tired I must be. Of course I’m not getting any extra shut eye since I have to nudge Mr Vick to get up to attend to master steal-your-sleep!

So here’s what we do: Baby Vick cries, we wait a moment to see if he resettles, Mr Vick goes in when he doesn’t, Baby Vick is standing and sits back down the instant he sees him and tries to go back to sleep, Mr Vick tucks him back in and exits the room. Repeat 2 times for the duration for the evening.

So help a tired little mumma here, I know there would be many sleep gurus amongst you! What word of advice do you have for us here??? How do we get him to stay laying down and not call out?? Do you have a sleep deprivation story to share?