tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80533222010089539562024-02-07T15:12:40.003+11:00Me with ThreeHow am I now different being a Mummy and a WifeAbbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-33061241912819341472013-10-14T20:03:00.001+11:002013-10-14T20:38:51.804+11:00A change is as good as a ...Time to move on.<br />
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I am starting over. No longer Me with Three, but now we're raising <a href="http://threelittlemes.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Three Little Me's</a>.<br />
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Yes, that is right. We have a new addition and I'd like yo to come over and see what we are up to now.<br />
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I am planning on sharing more views and opinions in the new posts and want your input every step of the way. I am doing a little work in social media and am thinking I will share a little of what i learn along the way. Of course, as is the title, the page will focus on the antics of my three minis<br />
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If you aren't going to join us, thankyou for your time and for your support. It was and still is greatly appreciated.<br />
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Oh, and if you are coming over, I'd like you to complete the above sentence. What does a change feel like to you?<br />
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xxAbbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-61905199291887132632012-08-08T17:49:00.001+10:002012-08-08T17:50:01.248+10:00Seasons come and Go<div style="text-align: justify;">
Whether your Summer is leaving or just arriving, it is very important to acknowledge what she is all about. This is how I see Summer, with its impending arrival (or departure, depending on where you are in the world).</div>
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Winter is harsh and cold; he is rough and really pulls at your nerve endings. Don’t get me wrong: I like Winter; I enjoy hugging myself and being inside thanking whoever for what I have, which is what Winter makes you do. And outside on a cold Winter’s day the sun warming my back. Spring and Autumn really don’t matter at all. They are shoulder seasons, in place to warm you up or cool you down. But Summer is wonderful. </div>
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Summer gives you the opportunity to see the future. She is bright days, vivid colour and temperature. Sometimes too much heat…way too much heat- there has been many who just can’t handle it. But I can. In fact I run with it. I find that Summer’s energy ignites my own and together we are unstoppable. The experiences Summer and I have are incredible. Why does this stuff happen to me? Is it the Summer effect or that the two of us are simply an amazing match? It doesn’t seem to affect others as it does me. The sunny days, the too many drinks and the constant buzzing fits me well. </div>
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With Summer I am proud of myself. I find I laugh more, mostly at myself. I have so much more confidence and allow myself to breathe. People think I change around Summer, not for the good or bad; just that I am different. I say correct. I do change. Summer makes you change. She helps you question. Summer enables you to look at the world in a different way. And the reason she needs to come and go is so that she can affect more people in this way. </div>
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Summer is infectious. Whoever you are you cannot help but be swept up in her cool breezes and hot waves. Many don’t understand the attraction: it’s too much, too full on. But not me. Summer to me is comfortable, a match to my own personality; sometimes hidden under all of the stuff of my Spring and Autumn. There is positivity, a hope that all will be rosy and peaches and perfect. Of course this is not the case, and sometimes there are rainy days with Summer. But that is okay. It gives Summer depth, dimension. Summer is most definitely not one dimensional. </div>
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Summer is pretty and feminine. Floaty dresses, bubbles in your champagne. Pink lips and sparkles. Summer allows you to be childish. Getting too much sunshine or driving around with the roof off sining too loud to daggy old songs, she gives you the oppourtunity to do this. Staying up late, zinc on your nose, slip and slides. Summer loves being on the water, but being away from the sea, She shines just as brightly.</div>
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As a child I was never sure why Summer had to leave each year. I never understood. Now I can see Its okay for Summer to go. By letting her go, you learn to understand and appreciate what you have; the awesomeness in the light. And before you know it, She will be back again: bringing bright days and warm hearts, vivid colour and life changing experiences. Again too many bubbles, too much chatter and overwhelming awesomeness. And sometimes, Summer can happen in Winter.</div>
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Many of you already know of this Summer and all of Her too much. To those of you who are yet to meet Summer, breathe it in and just go with it: She will take you places and It will be the journey of your life!Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-74636551643043754412012-02-01T22:21:00.000+11:002012-02-01T22:21:08.130+11:00ThanksgivingA little while ago, a friend of mine started a blog based on letters to herself. Letters to her life, that day, the people, experiences. A wonderful idea, and partly the reason I started this. I'm not sure exactly why she started this, and she has since moved on, yet i still find myself checking in sometimes to see what it is she is thankful for. Thinking of this, and having just had a sticky beak to see if anything has update, has made me think, again, about what it is in my life that i am thankful for. Sometimes i wish we celebrated Thanksgiving in Australia, simply to publicly acknowledge what it is we are thankful for. Consider this my Thanksgiving.<br />
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I am thankful for:<br />
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My Three: They give me so much...daily. <br />
My Brother and sisters, mum and dad: for making me who I am and continuing to be amazing!<br />
My wonderful friends: new and old. for teh experiences they bring to my life, both with me and without.<br />
My brain: Simply, you amaze me. I contstanly try to destroy you with champagne and late nights, but you constantly support me with your dreams and reality.<br />
Barbie: I love her! maybe just because she keeps my 2 occupied for hours, but also because she kept me occupied and dreaming for hours. <br />
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of course i am thankful for sunshine, blue skies, running water and electricty, IQ on Foxtel (godsend if you have children!), the NEW roof over my head and my 600 thread count Sheridan sheets and the list will go on and on but without the above people and also the people they are thankful for, my world would mean very little to me. <br />
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<br />Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-51319471051242888532012-02-01T08:00:00.000+11:002012-02-01T08:00:01.706+11:00One fo' da Mumma's<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJObJFSMBZpesiEysPTV2KnJLAqFxOEYRrXswc8Bt-xJ5hMO47ffSLR5vJ7J81D6JGvJYSlztPVqop8p44KrRtHSKMBgpjndFPaIbEgEIA8_TdVlmAzqtVLrkSMgI2AgwHR8gopSdK_-Mc/s1600/New+lens+040810+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJObJFSMBZpesiEysPTV2KnJLAqFxOEYRrXswc8Bt-xJ5hMO47ffSLR5vJ7J81D6JGvJYSlztPVqop8p44KrRtHSKMBgpjndFPaIbEgEIA8_TdVlmAzqtVLrkSMgI2AgwHR8gopSdK_-Mc/s320/New+lens+040810+009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_1823918143"></span><span id="goog_1823918144"></span>This last week or so has been awash, AWASH I tell you with happy news of impending births and wonderful heralds of safe arrivals! Three friends have divulged, within days of each other, that not drinking on a birthday 12 weeks prior was due to PREGNANCY (and illness, and tiredness), not attending that Pre Christmas function was due to PREGNANCY (and illness, and tiredness) and shock horror, not joining me in Sushi the other day was due to <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*GASP* </span></i>PREGNANCY. HOORAY!!! I scream from the rooftops!! And then on the other hand, a wonderful girl, <a href="http://talesofataitai.blogspot.com.au/">Bridget</a>, who you may even know through the blogging community, has welcomed her first born, <a href="http://talesofataitai.blogspot.com.au/2012/01/fletcher.html">Fletcher</a>. Oh my goodness, what a beautiful thing it is. To hear another wonderful woman, another wonderful friend has met her bundle. Congratulations!! </div>
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Ahhhhhhh........ <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">(*WARNING: I know I sound somewhat clucky!! How does "Moore with Four" sound???? Don't worry...not yet! Miss E well and truly shocked us out of our dreamland. Need a few more years to get used to her!)</span></i></div>
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Anyway. I write today to new mummies, mummies to be and my mummy friends. About 2years ago, an awesome mummy friend and I, came up with a little idea of things that you are never told and never know until you are in the situation and have to ask. A little black book if you wish. In it we would write all the pearls of wisdom we had learnt and things that our mothers told us that even after 30 odd years, still worked a charm. I'm sure it has been done (If not yet, after reading this some young entrepreneur will get it off the ground!). </div>
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Below are a few of my favourite thoughts that have stuck with me. They are more mental than practical, because it is often the mental you need encouragement with!</div>
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<li>Hold him close...often. Contrary to what you may be told, you
cannot spoil a two week old baby. Cuddle him, kiss him, smell him. </li>
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<li>Sleep when you can. No doubt the endless feeding is exactly
that...endless. So leave everything else and
sleep when he does. </li>
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<li>Lastly (and my favourite) this too shall pass. Your time with him this
little, is fleeting. Savour it. At the same time, the late nights and constant
crying will stop as you become more aware of his needs and more confident as
a mother. </li>
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These affirmations should be the first thing midwives tell you when you are crying on day three, the first thing that horrible Health Care nurse says when she visits you within days of bringing baby home and the only things that should matter. Write them up in black texta on butcher's paper and stick them to the wall! Better yet, pass them on to all the new mums or mummy to be you know.</div>
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Mummies reading, what good advice has stuck with you about the first 6 weeks? Would love you to post it below. </div>
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</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-35114877066298390342012-01-31T14:37:00.001+11:002012-01-31T22:24:03.159+11:00A little February Fun<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ok, so I am most definitely not a photographer, I leave that to the talented...especially my beautiful friend Tamara <a href="http://tamaracrispphotographyblog.com/">(go ahead, take a peek!)</a>. And I am most certainly not arty, that I leave to my sister. But I do love <a href="http://blog.instagram.com/">Instagram</a> and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/">Flickr </a>and all of the other photo sharing sites. Especially when they make my photos look professional (albeit hacked apart with the wrong light, filter, frame). </div>
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So on that note, I am taking part in <a href="http://www.fatmumslim.com.au/">Fat Mum Slim</a>'s <a href="http://www.fatmumslim.com.au/2012/01/february-photo-day-kicks-off-tomorrow.html?showComment=1327979598711#c1294672378307890871">February Photo Challenge</a>!! Take a look and I challenge you to do the same. It is explained clearly at that link, but for those of you who are unaware, each day has a different topic or statement. You interpret this your own way and take a photo of that: for example, #29 is "something you are listening to", for this I will take a shot of either my crazy children playing or the hot tradies at my house hammering! Ca'peche?</div>
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I am seeing this as another opportunity to take more of a look at my world. By having one topic to capture per day, February will all of a sudden become more than the end of Summer. I might even use the photos around the house somewhere!</div>
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So reader....COME ON DOWN <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*price is right style*</span></i></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-21896089229929750122012-01-30T18:57:00.000+11:002012-01-30T18:57:00.351+11:00Here is the house that we built....Continuing on from my previous post, allowing you visions into my life, I have put together a little collection of photos showing a little of what we went through last year in building our family home.<br />
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Take a 1950's blonde brick home with multiple add ons, knock down 7/8ths of it, chuck in a pool and Voila! you know have a somewhat modern, reasonably functional family home. <a href="http://www.jpaconstructions.com.au/">Our builder</a> has been awesome, nothing was ever too hard. And being first time builders, there was a lot of hand holding needed. As renovation and building go, we were very lucky! TOUCH WOOD!!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>WARNING: House is still not finished. Landscaping, interior decorating and water to fill the pool cost money...something that we are running a little short on (hahaha, no, actually this summer's <a href="http://www.bom.gov.au/climate/glossary/lanina.shtml">La Nina</a> has totally screwed us. I will post final photos when we are done.) </i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gsx27zD8_AuOhQ0NZgu8hKAHjJblr2lhlz6ic9SHRM_5vdwy7KXa4-broJ4CeZiToGZP1jZ9gE6JYQ0Jzqp-3boZMq83R0aSQYMx-2xqvPKAIYiVK8knp8j8a9vc-az_tNNmqO0e-iH2/s1600/IMG_0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4gsx27zD8_AuOhQ0NZgu8hKAHjJblr2lhlz6ic9SHRM_5vdwy7KXa4-broJ4CeZiToGZP1jZ9gE6JYQ0Jzqp-3boZMq83R0aSQYMx-2xqvPKAIYiVK8knp8j8a9vc-az_tNNmqO0e-iH2/s400/IMG_0001.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day one of the Demolition March 2011</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back of the house going on.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss S on the pool edge</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kjB6TJrqHwNob4mR5Nw6I9qrbwUUgLplZZwacfkMsBjEFOptxIyzTJyXnxi5yUq54ng5nmjJ_JmBgrGUSd2vL_Q_gMv6VhhaYnlXjTPPBMWx_bmDCechs2adf-mhcKXYlAr064u79rea/s1600/IMG_0336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2kjB6TJrqHwNob4mR5Nw6I9qrbwUUgLplZZwacfkMsBjEFOptxIyzTJyXnxi5yUq54ng5nmjJ_JmBgrGUSd2vL_Q_gMv6VhhaYnlXjTPPBMWx_bmDCechs2adf-mhcKXYlAr064u79rea/s320/IMG_0336.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Visiting when it was like this was amazing! So open and high. When the roof went on, it kind of made the house too enclosed. Wasn't disappointed for long.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnwROPd9SEgypcUlAePxOEOusHwXZW0J5QxnZEoSzjSqg67D10GNGSVjzWioKeAOMaOfNmH6Ii1pX37F2T_WqMguHT2RZClmvfnGhZBZiPphaXMfbvqAbSzwiI-AOq1xyv9K9ZHY516Ny/s1600/IMG_0341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnnwROPd9SEgypcUlAePxOEOusHwXZW0J5QxnZEoSzjSqg67D10GNGSVjzWioKeAOMaOfNmH6Ii1pX37F2T_WqMguHT2RZClmvfnGhZBZiPphaXMfbvqAbSzwiI-AOq1xyv9K9ZHY516Ny/s320/IMG_0341.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss E sitting in what will become our master bedroom</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7SU8w7PutN9qS1SKwThiu77VPuFY35FCxrfVXAyb1ZJkSgC-zd4AJIrYrn9AMmkIN2yEXch6671W1YCWtEiFou7ou6hz8Ux80ZRRfCCDNkSVigs0lWU5JXx8aqEgqaRbJamjcX20xrte/s1600/IMG_0342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7SU8w7PutN9qS1SKwThiu77VPuFY35FCxrfVXAyb1ZJkSgC-zd4AJIrYrn9AMmkIN2yEXch6671W1YCWtEiFou7ou6hz8Ux80ZRRfCCDNkSVigs0lWU5JXx8aqEgqaRbJamjcX20xrte/s320/IMG_0342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAUDtc5XCAoWLJxNvIQUvKv738C-r_Mm2UeDE9D4Sb8Lu_mJPlVcZt4L5zc1jx3QmRcvtxBwh4Lfou8fGc6xxVyo7Q-adZimNWAVnWGp4HkS8C05c9TgfBVxKbaJsITEIhA7oYccKKPYT/s1600/IMG_0375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmAUDtc5XCAoWLJxNvIQUvKv738C-r_Mm2UeDE9D4Sb8Lu_mJPlVcZt4L5zc1jx3QmRcvtxBwh4Lfou8fGc6xxVyo7Q-adZimNWAVnWGp4HkS8C05c9TgfBVxKbaJsITEIhA7oYccKKPYT/s320/IMG_0375.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's a house with a wall, with a wall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3kLVIlsjHqDZYJdY5-vX1d3Pje-q6TTjbxrkdKDZnpuXxEHhzhz-kh96CXw6d7-hQ_a9suu-m9wkFumhGZt-mXhTmIvTd9F9t5NCNIdXFj6dQfvzRgdEHkChew_7HiQGKRcBFLmgNoNN/s1600/IMG_0395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC3kLVIlsjHqDZYJdY5-vX1d3Pje-q6TTjbxrkdKDZnpuXxEHhzhz-kh96CXw6d7-hQ_a9suu-m9wkFumhGZt-mXhTmIvTd9F9t5NCNIdXFj6dQfvzRgdEHkChew_7HiQGKRcBFLmgNoNN/s320/IMG_0395.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two car garage with internal access! No more wet dash to the house in the rain!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPespiGkDo1bwysnfcllBMBEwH1AehwbSgjNWwkzvjUQBxWd0KbLITXo1cTh2PXRYPmCwonvY37WUPW_qnH0y1wvIHeFsWDlKX2xrrbPzvrS7hI_FbiCeSQ64olwMr0M8AwjX8gbINyPwP/s1600/IMG_0400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPespiGkDo1bwysnfcllBMBEwH1AehwbSgjNWwkzvjUQBxWd0KbLITXo1cTh2PXRYPmCwonvY37WUPW_qnH0y1wvIHeFsWDlKX2xrrbPzvrS7hI_FbiCeSQ64olwMr0M8AwjX8gbINyPwP/s320/IMG_0400.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3TvJ17hltgv3jFloGY7BMGP-lYnzYhvKHnGVzzsfvIbxLVnKpFg9M_-39yi_CVcS3jl0MgDOP7uXUtyOBXG7dI_QuRABWLQkcW4cYOXmFYVw3g0RHWNJ-iDcqCWNFFUe87HpN47hQFTk/s1600/IMG_0404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3TvJ17hltgv3jFloGY7BMGP-lYnzYhvKHnGVzzsfvIbxLVnKpFg9M_-39yi_CVcS3jl0MgDOP7uXUtyOBXG7dI_QuRABWLQkcW4cYOXmFYVw3g0RHWNJ-iDcqCWNFFUe87HpN47hQFTk/s320/IMG_0404.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C9UrqosEF_daab-he-Mez8Y89Eg-5riEiNydugZR45QmBz6sOQlnvx404X-ZK1VnF-1D-nnW2UXgzr4iOTL6oKYyI19Q0guJDHtjqTtqejCUlL8M3TZkAOBF3gxgUL_oJKSd6AKACfar/s1600/IMG_0427.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C9UrqosEF_daab-he-Mez8Y89Eg-5riEiNydugZR45QmBz6sOQlnvx404X-ZK1VnF-1D-nnW2UXgzr4iOTL6oKYyI19Q0guJDHtjqTtqejCUlL8M3TZkAOBF3gxgUL_oJKSd6AKACfar/s320/IMG_0427.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The light changes in this room at every minute of every day</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdo1AguHZiL8a7A9GWaCn09X8yYiCIBGjd3ejGZDaQHcOVZb3jtmnz9C7g5_YJcCNkDdndf192S3T1b5vUs_Br4l3ancE8yPhFnZbhW3gGQTV_NwU34D7fh0lLI7Kvpxy1qdXFVj-iNCV/s1600/IMG_0430.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQdo1AguHZiL8a7A9GWaCn09X8yYiCIBGjd3ejGZDaQHcOVZb3jtmnz9C7g5_YJcCNkDdndf192S3T1b5vUs_Br4l3ancE8yPhFnZbhW3gGQTV_NwU34D7fh0lLI7Kvpxy1qdXFVj-iNCV/s400/IMG_0430.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original front gate, being kept at my request</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjto7w13tLmqg4S9rGFXOLzjxEBCVhtPKZZbwQlo67zjlIcfj8rCDIsWpMmcvpvW530yBeQPX2Sci6L6YdgUzQ8k8FolB6wQp0NFSEaUNspxaWEToSmvoiiWHtHwEYoyM7Ig87LHXYlla0h/s1600/IMG_0439.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWF8hfnUJ3lpzGKgnEWtrk3xV2xO9_tXwZ4zaSAiwWFpDCbFS0Iw7Nox-iNn97TmYFlzx-aD9sD95bqZp1M9r7WnlUTPjAbSjCHbTr-HclfDWyjTtDbKAWB2osvS_CxAcKxmG44onYREq/s1600/IMG_0475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWF8hfnUJ3lpzGKgnEWtrk3xV2xO9_tXwZ4zaSAiwWFpDCbFS0Iw7Nox-iNn97TmYFlzx-aD9sD95bqZp1M9r7WnlUTPjAbSjCHbTr-HclfDWyjTtDbKAWB2osvS_CxAcKxmG44onYREq/s320/IMG_0475.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And we get a roof, and glazing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBW8SwGV09QjLqnQ05qCZ9cNw7vFcd7JOOZNUnxZ1J_SXsEL0zhjyKoLiNwmhhq8teWsJ3a8jpL8NqSjMzrbjvPZr-ZDNdkVrGpHy3ngNXCLUNkNHGCQrTSRMVIU8bfybWTElWsHE_pXgG/s1600/IMG_0479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBW8SwGV09QjLqnQ05qCZ9cNw7vFcd7JOOZNUnxZ1J_SXsEL0zhjyKoLiNwmhhq8teWsJ3a8jpL8NqSjMzrbjvPZr-ZDNdkVrGpHy3ngNXCLUNkNHGCQrTSRMVIU8bfybWTElWsHE_pXgG/s320/IMG_0479.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNgkFp1vWvX0P0aQIVWjMKOwunxcaRAMedkvsjn9qA2NHTv4W9F5e0QYEipXVeaJLRxm_YK4fNl1v4b117ul4cICnJnRM584AcbYp1ogQmuYMEV8W5TJs46ncYTx1kTPZTlhuwxhqne95/s1600/IMG_0495.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfNgkFp1vWvX0P0aQIVWjMKOwunxcaRAMedkvsjn9qA2NHTv4W9F5e0QYEipXVeaJLRxm_YK4fNl1v4b117ul4cICnJnRM584AcbYp1ogQmuYMEV8W5TJs46ncYTx1kTPZTlhuwxhqne95/s320/IMG_0495.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiHKq0eZFcZUoCDp9j5WVvRKSCyAvT1jS4jrZCssT5vQzJkCleZoEETtTqTAu-nyEgp-hQbRcjzr7S5ZFdAtTDjo7yGEr5VqfNHY6syh7vbGFZGPPglRWRwzX1b3UxU86tkqqX7lJLdcE/s1600/IMG_0575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiHKq0eZFcZUoCDp9j5WVvRKSCyAvT1jS4jrZCssT5vQzJkCleZoEETtTqTAu-nyEgp-hQbRcjzr7S5ZFdAtTDjo7yGEr5VqfNHY6syh7vbGFZGPPglRWRwzX1b3UxU86tkqqX7lJLdcE/s320/IMG_0575.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished Kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_S86xeRBT46oIQ2cgTgg0XB_UWzrxhghzLLneZhVOneiAo9ejhZ9LBlmiJH5tMXPsXnB82c5-eDuYJoNNgdEWAV7DKOyyTWNE96OydK-NlUNmdwK-BKFzmRzeeRO3cNwqeWHzepKylT1D/s1600/IMG_0576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_S86xeRBT46oIQ2cgTgg0XB_UWzrxhghzLLneZhVOneiAo9ejhZ9LBlmiJH5tMXPsXnB82c5-eDuYJoNNgdEWAV7DKOyyTWNE96OydK-NlUNmdwK-BKFzmRzeeRO3cNwqeWHzepKylT1D/s400/IMG_0576.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My first open plan kitchen! LOVE!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kw2RCjlikTLsSFPASOEbKdHJSeVdfXe8XCtTQ94qkjrbqAtdQmvkvqUy4xhAVWvqdN0UG-RVyHSld-AkXiYxQXgzvsDS-MgVHnBzlvb4_W7yuEgJrx3ozcHes2plLbDi8TTp5F-Px460/s1600/IMG_0618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_kw2RCjlikTLsSFPASOEbKdHJSeVdfXe8XCtTQ94qkjrbqAtdQmvkvqUy4xhAVWvqdN0UG-RVyHSld-AkXiYxQXgzvsDS-MgVHnBzlvb4_W7yuEgJrx3ozcHes2plLbDi8TTp5F-Px460/s320/IMG_0618.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1nCGVa8J9nQMIh1XzRttE_uy1EfSahVWiTARJyG3klzw-b9vTDH85ZDr1CODLKZgcMLHtDUjgd5elZTUceMM1_7dwh88Cz1CYotsgB4f1X3aYnXCYNwKddjj0tbcS0rOGV7z2lNShM82/s1600/IMG_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1nCGVa8J9nQMIh1XzRttE_uy1EfSahVWiTARJyG3klzw-b9vTDH85ZDr1CODLKZgcMLHtDUjgd5elZTUceMM1_7dwh88Cz1CYotsgB4f1X3aYnXCYNwKddjj0tbcS0rOGV7z2lNShM82/s320/IMG_0619.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Infinity edge pool, nearly done. thank god it has been a non existent summer!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Kamzy4MzPMvDLku9cGJCkf6ytj6uK39N9TGIOqbojl04VkoLyFQgazLd4lDniQzev9txgRivwMwH07_ouYk8JBLlMFVLuVW-AotPXA5m2bHnoNIJEQLVTuj6HhmeqMM4FnPGVjBXmB1d/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Kamzy4MzPMvDLku9cGJCkf6ytj6uK39N9TGIOqbojl04VkoLyFQgazLd4lDniQzev9txgRivwMwH07_ouYk8JBLlMFVLuVW-AotPXA5m2bHnoNIJEQLVTuj6HhmeqMM4FnPGVjBXmB1d/s640/IMG_0621.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still in progress, but we are home.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-91214461853324630212012-01-27T15:15:00.034+11:002012-01-27T15:24:56.459+11:00Renovate or Knock Down & Re-Build<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr align="justify"><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cYnxjHPt8pc6Ohh6SOwuK1L8_OZ1LAbjAQNAPp8LexHHF0-Vd5xMHbKOloApiG7_nT8lP99X62xy3Dp8cti_KAz-vbL68BNuCJSrU2ieVR1WVUKOeJFVXirPQB6ok6uzax0vW4wGFu5P/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2cYnxjHPt8pc6Ohh6SOwuK1L8_OZ1LAbjAQNAPp8LexHHF0-Vd5xMHbKOloApiG7_nT8lP99X62xy3Dp8cti_KAz-vbL68BNuCJSrU2ieVR1WVUKOeJFVXirPQB6ok6uzax0vW4wGFu5P/s320/IMG_0360.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my three at North Avoca</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">I have been thinking, kind reader. I have been trying to decide what it is I am going to do with this place, this opportunity for me to share. Take a walk around previous posts, and I see you have been very patient with me. I have been thinking about how neglectful I have been, and also how you have given me so much support and I have given you very little back. For this, I am sorry.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Through serious encouragement from my wonderful husband, a cheer squad of adoring friends and some deep words from a very special, intelligent and enthusiastic young woman, who I am happy to call my best friend (<a href="http://edusum.edublogs.org/">be inspired by her here</a>), I have decided to push on...no no no, that is the wrong turn of phrase. I have decided to <i>renovate</i> this little baby!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Much has happened since I started writing. I'm not sure if I have written this previously. My reasons for writing this blog have changed. It began when I was feeling so overwhelmed as a new mum of two. One night, between feeds, I needed to vent and BAM! While I now don't feel the same need, I have found a love of writing and I am planning on continuing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Some people paint, some sweat it out. I write. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You will have to bear with me while I learn the ins and outs of "blogging", which you all know is a word I dislike immensely! Perhaps I dislike that B word because I am so ignorant to what it means. So, I am going to make it my duty to find out what I can do with my third little baby (Me with Three). How to make it more interesting for you. You have read what I think about <a href="http://abbey-mewith3.blogspot.com/2010_11_01_archive.html">the summer rain</a>, what <a href="http://abbey-mewith3.blogspot.com/2010/11/i-wish-theyd-told-me.html">I wish they'd told me</a> and said <a href="http://abbey-mewith3.blogspot.com/2010/11/cheers-to-sunday.html">Cheers to Sunday</a> with me. And for reading those thoughts, as a thank you present, I have put up a few of my favourite family snaps of my three. Just a way to let you in a little bit more.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGua0VZ38J2Mc2w3Jnn1LGSOOxbtO0eYh4daAJGES1hNHFVSR-5SjkBjVd-VknMFUiFInGgw4gwzT8JKVKfpWiphpIA7NuKTeLJLw1k05cslTd4Al7LFIPjQkgd0A8kwMXYDgUn7ppTzj/s1600/IMG_0288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGua0VZ38J2Mc2w3Jnn1LGSOOxbtO0eYh4daAJGES1hNHFVSR-5SjkBjVd-VknMFUiFInGgw4gwzT8JKVKfpWiphpIA7NuKTeLJLw1k05cslTd4Al7LFIPjQkgd0A8kwMXYDgUn7ppTzj/s320/IMG_0288.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our house being re-built</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">We re-built a house. A beautiful house that had a story before, and will now have our story too.</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PV_0NKCfwbgV2kt6ufhAxecAf1B6ksoje3wj6HcRYNWuWIqfmFgh_qxvUryBUR68pVvTw-bwe4vUzJ5jZyqyK4cdRIAdNjwZSJQhI5V4fOjRH9YYKOklv5r0QkMyMo9g9vL_lf0jBrx2/s1600/IMG_0621.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PV_0NKCfwbgV2kt6ufhAxecAf1B6ksoje3wj6HcRYNWuWIqfmFgh_qxvUryBUR68pVvTw-bwe4vUzJ5jZyqyK4cdRIAdNjwZSJQhI5V4fOjRH9YYKOklv5r0QkMyMo9g9vL_lf0jBrx2/s200/IMG_0621.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0SHlB5ynw78digiCn_SRCT4sh7GYUG0Gk_Xtkltf34-DSLdTJGkmikWk3OII4sKk0w9Am91RLLCBZ1JVRwH9m0eKjJ825apQHmR6I99lQfIXwA-BrFOTEnctE04QVTAaVJpvmHvcq-wz/s1600/IMG_0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0SHlB5ynw78digiCn_SRCT4sh7GYUG0Gk_Xtkltf34-DSLdTJGkmikWk3OII4sKk0w9Am91RLLCBZ1JVRwH9m0eKjJ825apQHmR6I99lQfIXwA-BrFOTEnctE04QVTAaVJpvmHvcq-wz/s200/IMG_0601.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking a walk in someone else's shoes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdFUiU2SiBz9bBtily_b4vtZwP6JY5wnxlvhuK35rIDDR1zULy9aWtZfg2sW1MDAQ-ikG9AyPYyf0XphGQ_a0Mk571O0D4gTCe4b5NbiSDelbY8AAI-jwSspMObkcfFaeZKU7bvFVpBEV/s1600/IMG_0615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYdFUiU2SiBz9bBtily_b4vtZwP6JY5wnxlvhuK35rIDDR1zULy9aWtZfg2sW1MDAQ-ikG9AyPYyf0XphGQ_a0Mk571O0D4gTCe4b5NbiSDelbY8AAI-jwSspMObkcfFaeZKU7bvFVpBEV/s320/IMG_0615.JPG" width="320" /></a>My Big girl is beginning to see life through big girl eyes. Learning more everyday. It is scary, but oh so exciting!! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My little girl just wants to be like my big girl...while still being loved like the baby always is</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span id="goog_812188977"></span><span id="goog_812188978"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgfwkyJ28qnYj8MHdM3VTMol7umbcowu3-FJQLwXwzvzv740VY_kvOD4hmkXX0nEvHoWUYeCJWNnLHp7m_Q6EdbLqHG7qxvLzeM8GjtRUH_Fp-hfAfYrofKSXDim9n7fPUAIZ-aVlF_or/s1600/IMG_0600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfgfwkyJ28qnYj8MHdM3VTMol7umbcowu3-FJQLwXwzvzv740VY_kvOD4hmkXX0nEvHoWUYeCJWNnLHp7m_Q6EdbLqHG7qxvLzeM8GjtRUH_Fp-hfAfYrofKSXDim9n7fPUAIZ-aVlF_or/s320/IMG_0600.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Husband in Dreamland</td></tr>
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My husband had amazing dreams this year. He enabled us to dream. And we continue to dream! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7UnaqAG-oKalnW_FmXqciW6pAlx1dvqNOYDftVcDgbQy6xl5YUol6Evhgk3DGxZssHqYD5uHqOfskqEz219QLgC6J6i6fwWs1gboUZorUX9R_7LE4xTJ9ICm3X0_uYHJtwEsHh6vl6aR/s1600/IMG_0597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI7UnaqAG-oKalnW_FmXqciW6pAlx1dvqNOYDftVcDgbQy6xl5YUol6Evhgk3DGxZssHqYD5uHqOfskqEz219QLgC6J6i6fwWs1gboUZorUX9R_7LE4xTJ9ICm3X0_uYHJtwEsHh6vl6aR/s400/IMG_0597.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in Dreamland</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJs4S3Z42N9AoGeMKLmxVjUaAlRh1jc-C6Y1AAVs_HYLBEK6PawMyGylc8tOFqK4k2Auhokt8_igKWTC4sOpdWK5lK8tc49Q8mIHFzam5cOicwYrr6ix-nxXq59CcKsHGR5Cf7Qf4wrPj/s1600/IMG_0623.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJs4S3Z42N9AoGeMKLmxVjUaAlRh1jc-C6Y1AAVs_HYLBEK6PawMyGylc8tOFqK4k2Auhokt8_igKWTC4sOpdWK5lK8tc49Q8mIHFzam5cOicwYrr6ix-nxXq59CcKsHGR5Cf7Qf4wrPj/s200/IMG_0623.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a beautiful lady!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3rMUNNl-0GcPQYtOSMk8QptthWwCrrsFOTbFC898qfBHMoF6TRySy-9n9Hy0THkllL1B89JhhmKYncLIGliEkDd2920obafB1xXKjEaNuHfAe1_zMg0QknSMo7sZWP8ZBTjKF0py0SD-/s1600/IMG_0557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3rMUNNl-0GcPQYtOSMk8QptthWwCrrsFOTbFC898qfBHMoF6TRySy-9n9Hy0THkllL1B89JhhmKYncLIGliEkDd2920obafB1xXKjEaNuHfAe1_zMg0QknSMo7sZWP8ZBTjKF0py0SD-/s200/IMG_0557.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at us Pirate Wenches</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I had fun. Oh so much fun! And sometimes, perhaps a little too much, with all of my beautiful friends. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1I010dUH3d3nkwK17GMK97FOKxq8xbwslDx7InU80sBZuzaaPB3kRZTtsvOexMYmIpuBoSynXWaOROBzKGQc6CAdZwJiKfX7YAQesU_C2MmKaZyfblybrMwLFqjSX7XZX8zRwd3Oz6Tu/s1600/IMG_0640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1I010dUH3d3nkwK17GMK97FOKxq8xbwslDx7InU80sBZuzaaPB3kRZTtsvOexMYmIpuBoSynXWaOROBzKGQc6CAdZwJiKfX7YAQesU_C2MmKaZyfblybrMwLFqjSX7XZX8zRwd3Oz6Tu/s1600/IMG_0640.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ1I010dUH3d3nkwK17GMK97FOKxq8xbwslDx7InU80sBZuzaaPB3kRZTtsvOexMYmIpuBoSynXWaOROBzKGQc6CAdZwJiKfX7YAQesU_C2MmKaZyfblybrMwLFqjSX7XZX8zRwd3Oz6Tu/s400/IMG_0640.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And what an awesome New Year's Eve</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">So to finish, I am going to discredit myself as a writer by using a most hated of cliches: <i>At the end of the day</i>, this is what my life is all about:</div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidnxBMYJa7V9vCkW3It4G7aKmyYAD1XKzHW6OAnQL3Ye2qtIBmikIdC7XDfAl_D7xsqgJJi6lhf2t8x9oojoegQB0oFcdwbz-HEj7l_RQH8vLAZORuVH394aXnCy_u4fe-ls_bIjk6n_c/s1600/IMG_0598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidnxBMYJa7V9vCkW3It4G7aKmyYAD1XKzHW6OAnQL3Ye2qtIBmikIdC7XDfAl_D7xsqgJJi6lhf2t8x9oojoegQB0oFcdwbz-HEj7l_RQH8vLAZORuVH394aXnCy_u4fe-ls_bIjk6n_c/s640/IMG_0598.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two most happy sisters. Miss S and Miss E smiling back at me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-59652747833555670192012-01-23T20:10:00.000+11:002012-01-23T20:10:21.633+11:00Please be Gentle<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-AU</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">So, dear reader, below is my very first attempt at a short story, titled "Perfectly Plain"<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*pat on the back*</i></span> and I have decided to let you read it<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*GASP*</i></span>. I am very nervous<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">*heart rate increases*</span></i>, sharing fiction is a lot harder than sharing my opinion. Perhaps because there is a lot more thought put into character and story...anyway, enjoy!<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*sharp breath in*.....</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Perfectly Plain</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">With her head down the toilet again that morning, Georgia came to the realisation that, yes, she probably should tell someone. But tell someone what? Everything had happened so fast. This was merely not in the plan. Every aspect of her life was planned and detailed; job, position, Friday drinks, outfits and holidays, Christmases. How could something so huge, sneak up on her! So who to call first? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Well,</i> she thought, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Andrew would be the obvious one.</i> But she would have to time it to be between meetings, and the call would have to be before he ran out for corporate football at lunch. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No. Too hard. Maybe Lisa?</i> She too would be at her desk, but only pretending to be busy. Lisa would take the call, but what would she say? No, this is something that had to be face to face.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cue head in toilet again! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Seriously! Enough already!</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
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</style> <![endif]--> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span>Perfectly plain. This was the best way to describe Georgia. Perfect in perception that is; tall, brunette, slim. Intelligent, but not invested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things happened for her too easily. For example, she had recently been promoted after only two months and was the youngest of the account managers. People were impressed, always. Yet she had always managed to do things only half way, half way had always seemed to get her ahead. Perfectly plain and acceptably half arsed was where she had placed herself, and this is where she would stay, until Andrew produced the shimmering 2 carats that was expected. IF he did. People never saw this calculating in her though. Behind that perfectly plain facade, was a </span><span>measured,</span><span> not </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">malicious, brain. Every action was deliberate – Georgia knew how to play people. This talent for influencing people had been cunningly learned from a young age. </span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span>And now, she was placed in a situation so foreign to her. Foreign was not the baby part, but the not planned part. This was not meant to be part of her life for a long time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Skip forward in time: "Things are progressing nicely." Her doctor assures her. The baby grows. Her boobs grow. The illness stops. Tiredness remains. Dying for a glass of Sav Blanc. The realisation has sunk in.</span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span> </span>The questions had begun: <span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;">Every movement. Every nudge, turn, hiccup, and bump. When will I meet you? How will I meet you? Will you be blonde? Placid? Will you know me? Look into my eyes and love me? Will I love you? Georgia thought all of these things as she lay in her bubble filled bath. Water barely covering the burgeoning belly that now encased her little bundle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the only way to relax this far along. Her mind would race from the moment she woke to the time she fell asleep, and then the dreams! They couldn’t be normal! “Surely everyone thinks like this?” “It’s just the hormones” were the helpful comments her distant partner offered. Georgia wasn’t so sure. She decided to voice them again. </span>“Andrew. I am scared.”<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">“What about Hon. Why? You will be fine. If it gets too hard, we can have the drugs and we’ll be fine.”<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">“No. Not about the labour. That’ll be fine. Being a mum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A parent. What if “it”.....”<span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"> </span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">He cut her off, “Don’t call him it! Say The Baby.” </div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">“....<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Baby</i> .... What if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Baby</i> and I don’t bond? What if I can’t feed? What if I can’t settle it...” and again, he cuts her off,</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>“DAMN IT GEORGIA!!! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THE BABY! THE BABY! THE BABY</i>! If you started saying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Baby</i>, you might start to bond with it. Shit! See now you made me do it! YOU WILL BE FINE! How many times do I have to re-assure you! The baby will be fine! We will be fine! You are not the first woman to ever have a baby!” He’d had enough. Again with the fears! When would this end? Surely being scared about the labour should be her main concern? </div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;">“Fuck Andrew! I know! I know all this. But this is the first baby I have had, I hope to god it’s the first baby you have had and the first baby WE have had TOGETHER! So please, try to understand me! Try to understand that I need you to pander to my worries and concerns and not throw them away! I am worried. I am concerned and I have fears. Accept that!” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And again it turns into an argument. Carrying on daily, keeping the worry in her head was easier than having to explain her concerns over and over. Maybe she was finding things to worry about. Could she be so lucky? To have what other women had? Of course not. She had never done anything worthy, why now would she be lucky enough to bore a child who looked up to her and loved her for just being a great mum? Would she be a great mum? So many questions. So much self doubt from a very self-assured woman.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But this story is not about the pregnancy, who Georgia told or the arguments. In fact, it’s not even a story. There is no beginning, middle and end. Only a beginning. This tale is about a life that truly began once this baby arrived. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Charlotte Grace was born under perfectly plain (should I really be saying that) circumstances at 8:21am on a Tuesday. She was (is still) beautiful. Baby grey eyes, small wrinkly fingers and turned in feet - roughly the dimensions of a size 12 chook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there she lay, bundled, sleeping, oblivious to the “Ooohs” and “Aaahs” surrounding her that day and still oblivious at this moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This life that had just begun changed the life of her mother. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We aren’t talking “junkie mum turned doting parent” or “teen mum turned role model” and not even “woman who now has a purpose”. As Charlotte (never Charlie) was born there was the usual tears and overwhelming love. Georgia and Andrew were in a daze of happy hormones, followed by day three baby blues. Then came the anxiety of having to bring home and care for this bundle without the midwives or doctors. There were visitors, the feeding and the nappies. “Day One” started one evening, perhaps ten days in, sometime during the 3am feed (time wasn’t measured by two hands on a clock anymore.) Georgia was sitting in her feeding chair, Charlotte sucking away. She looked down at Charlotte and breathed out for the first time in 10 days. Trying to stay awake, Georgia looked across at a copy of “The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter” – a present from one of the many well-wishers. Awkwardly, she reached for it, opened it and began to read Charlotte the story of Peter Rabbit. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This simple moment, in the loneliness of the night, had made the </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">measured</span><span style="color: #330000; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"> brain that occupied Georgia’s head spark. She was someone’s mum. She belonged to Charlotte. Nothing that Georgia would ever do from now on is good enough yet at the same time, everything became extraordinary. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-AU;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Georgia isn’t naive. In the beginning, and now still, Charlotte could be a terror. Rest assured, she isn’t the angel her parents think she is. Yet Georgia’s life remains; grows; strengthens every moment since “Day One”. Every moment since Perfectly Plain became simply Perfect.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000;">So??!! What did you think?? Any comments would be much appreciated, but please be gentle! Thanks for reading. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #330000;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"><br />
</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-63417103871263052152011-12-01T21:20:00.000+11:002011-12-01T21:20:50.889+11:00Excuses, Excuses....<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">HA! So I have <strike>an</strike> <strike>excuse,</strike> a reason at the moment to be neglecting you! In fact, I have a few <strike>excuses</strike> reasons....Nah-na-ni-nah-nah!! Is that terrible? That I have to look for reasons to be not writing here?? I really do figure that you are all not really interested, then I have a few good friends explain that I have to keep writing here and that they really enjoy reading. For the rest of you, just skim read and you'll get the drift.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Soooo, ummmm, do you want to know my<i> reasons</i>??</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Of course you do!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Firstly, and probably most importantly, my three and I have been building a house. A big, happy, bright, party house! Have been going for over a year (probably about 18mths if you include all of the planning) and it is nearly finished. So nearly finished that I have been able to choose carpet and paint and tiles. So close to finished that you can walk through when it is raining and not get wet. So almost there that I wake up stressing about decisions that we haven't made that needed to be made yesterday!! HURRAH!! And because of this exhilarating move, there is a shed load of packing to be done (not really a "shed" load, more like a house and single garage load, but you get the picture...). When I'm not packing, I'm....</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Trying desperately to discipline my now, 3 year old Miss S (Can you believe it!!) and, oh my goodness, Miss E....19mths!!! Hooley dooley!!<i> </i>I know that I did promise you waaaaay back in the beginning that this was not going to be a mummy blog, and I apologise for this little sentence, but these children (note the distance I am putting between myself and them...THESE not My, or Our. Lack of ownership!!) are really pushing every button! I love them so much and they are so incredibly funny: Miss S trying constantly to get Miss E to dress up like a princess, and Miss E trying desperately to be everything Miss S already is. They make My beloved and I laugh so often. it really does make the bad stuff melt away. Alas, yes, there is the bad stuff. No wonder I am way more chilled out in my daily dealings. I am so used to being constantly talked at, poked, argued with, snotted on or simply not listened too, that when something <i>seems</i> somewhat difficult in the real world, it is simply a piece of cake (hhhhhmmm cake....)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Which leads me to another <strike>excuse</strike> reason for ignoring you lately. I am <i>once again</i> trying to get back to looking something like I did on my wedding day, oh ok, something like I did before I had Miss S. And this time it WILL happen. So countless hours at the gym or walking for me. It is not a chore though, I love it. As I mentioned in another previous post (really pushing the past posts today, aren't I), I am an active person. I really enjoy sweating and working hard. Today for example, the girls went to the gym creche (GODSEND!!) for two hours, while I ran for 35 mins and then Pump'ed...Goodbye 1025 calories! My Achilles heel is the delicious food and effervescent bubbles I associate with socialising. When I'm at home I can avoid the temptation of soft cheese and dips, or the fun, fruity flavours of a Cosmopolitan done really well. However, now that Summer is nearly mine (even though it is summer, it's still not sunny, and Summer doesn't really start until school breaks up) and I get to see my bestie, I automatically think: Cocktail (Cosmo, Mojito, Margherita, Bellini) with a cheeky nacho plate, squeaky cheese and chorizo*! So, unfortunately, the healthy eating (I hate the "D" word with a passion) goes out the window. Ergo, because I am so popular, I tend to be good during the week, like really good, but fall waaaaay behind on the weekends (Don't tell Santa!!) At the moment though, its not really an issue, because....</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I HAVE STARTED A BACHELOR DEGREE!!!!! YAY ME!!!! I am so super excited!! After you have read all of those other <strike>excuses</strike> reasons, you have come to the real reason why I have been MIA. Just a BA, at this stage (wink wink). I am doing only two subjects this study period. One is about learning and learning behaviours. So interesting. And the other is a creative and professional writing subject. Lucky you! I don't know what I plan on doing with said BA, but I believe I owe it to myself to learn more (and I don't want to be the only one in my family without letters behind my name {my dad virtually has an alphabet behind his}, plus I want to wear one of those funky gowns and mortar boards and throw it up like they do in daggy American movies!!! Do you do that??) and now I am ready. Poor Real Housewives recorded on IQ have been neglected for lecture notes and readings: "Finding Stories Meant For You" and "Thinking About Learning".</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">So, faithful followers, I thank you once more for being patient with me. I may call on you for inspiration and critique in the coming months (not now Cameron!!) so please be as gentle...and forgiving, as you always are.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*What does it say about me that with all my calorie counting, I have worked out that a Vodka tonic, with diet Tonic, is 71 calories??</span></i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>Cheers!!</i></span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-35571945987267973562011-09-26T21:06:00.000+10:002011-09-26T21:06:37.336+10:00<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you could, what would you go back and do again? I have a few things. I wouldn't completely re-do them, but just "tweak" certain things. There are a hell of lot of things that I did bloody well the first time and hence wouldn't re -do (my children and husband for one!), but I'm not perfect and I have a little list of things that I would "alter". I am a little un-easy bringing this up and so I need for you to understand: I have enjoyed every minute of my life to date, even the not so good stuff. I post this topic cos I know that I can't turn back time and change things. I'm not even wishing for that. I am just saying, that through hindsight, I have identified areas that could have been improved on/ taken more time with/ or omitted altogether. Ca'peche?? Good...lets do it.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm sorry to say, the first thing that I would "go back and change" would have to be photos from our wedding. I loved the bulk of them. I looked beautiful (modest much?), Beloved was handsome, my bridesmaids were radiant etc. and the actual day was perfect. We just don't have enough photos of the two of us. Actually, I think we have two decent ones and that is it. No ones fault, just, just the way it is. So brides to be who are reading this: TAKE MORE PHOTOS OF YOU AND YOUR NEW HUSBAND! It bothers me. Especially when i look through friends albums and see the many happy memories of the two of them. It has been on my mind since May 2005. Anyway.....</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Next would be school. I would work so much harder. I am quite intelligent (what was that about being modest??) and yet, alas, i was the one who had the "would improve her results if she applied herself" written at the bottom of her reports each semester. The teachers liked me, but i think i drove them batty with my lack of work and "drive". I spent way too much time trying to think of reasons to skip classes than actually going. Actually makes me really mad at my 16 year old self! I would go back and do that again...from about year 10. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Multiple drunken fights and arguments with my beloved, best friends and total strangers. OMIT!! Waste of time, waste of breathe and all round waste of what probably was a fantastic night! </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As most of you know, I am incredibly outspoken. I need a filter to stop things coming out of my mouth. I just don't think before I speak. I am sure that I have hurt, upset, annoyed, irritated many people. I would definitely take back anything that has caused anyone upset (even if it was totally warranted and true!!!) or at least sugar coat it a little better. I like to think as I am getting older, it gets better, but alas, I think I may be wrong. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">PUTTING ON SOOO MUCH WEIGHT when i was pregnant with Miss S....DEFINITE do over and DEFINITE do differently!!! That nine months of slacking off, physically and diet wise, whilst it was wonderful, has really made the last few years tricky. The amount of time i have dressed, and then re-dressed, stressed about my weight/how i look...ridiculous. On the up side, it has meant that this year has been a year for me to focus on my fitness and health (diet is still a bit tricky !!) and i feel great. I may not be there yet, but I am on the right road. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">These things are quite trivial, but it does make you think. So I ask you again, is there anything you would "re-do"? </span></span><br />
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</span>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-33770937595015536522011-01-12T21:58:00.000+11:002011-01-15T10:32:26.846+11:00Ah-ha.... Copycat?<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Okay.....I'm a dirty copycat! A few of the blogs that I follow ( <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%09http://talesofataitai.blogspot.com/">Tales of a Tai Tai</a> for example) have done this post. I really enjoyed it so I thought I would follow suit. Hope you enjoy mine too. Now....</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
50 Random Facts about Me</div><ol style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><li>I had my ears pierced at 26. I wasn't scared, I just never got around to it.</li>
<li>I love, love, love Reality TV. Amazing Race, Survivor, Top Model, Real Housewives of everywhere! Love it!</li>
<li>I won a State Sprint Rowing Championship when I was 15. Only over 500m, but I have the certificate and medal to show for it</li>
<li>I hate cooking. My husband cooks most nights. I will cook things for the girls, but I hate the idea of cooking dinner. <i>Revise this: I hate cooking Savoury things</i>. <i>I do sweet, and I do sweet well</i>.</li>
<li>I love entertaining though. I will plan the menu and set the table, but just not cook the food!</li>
<li>I loved being pregnant</li>
<li>I really enjoyed my labours (I'm sure I wasn't thinking that at the time!!). I was lucky enough to have two pretty straight forward, natural deliveries.</li>
<li>Despite being overweight, I love pump classes and have just found running. My short term goal is 5k without stopping. I am actually quite active. Clearly food is my weakness.</li>
<li>I hate saying no to party invitations. I think this is because I hate knowing that people will be having fun and I wont be there.</li>
<li>I cried at the end of Toy Story 3. When Andy leaves the toys with the Bonnie. SO sad!!!</li>
<li>I dont really have a favourite band/singer/music style. If I am cleaning, I like old stuff (70's, 80's) if I am BBQing, Minisrty ChillOut albums. If I am exercising, Doof Doof. </li>
<li>I wish I had done teaching or nursing at Uni. I wish I had just known what I wanted to be when I had to make the decision</li>
<li>I have a thing about leaving the house with a made bed, washing done and dishwasher on, clean counter and toys away. Just in case we get broken into.</li>
<li>I am a Twi-Hard. I love The Twilight Saga. Team Edward!</li>
<li>I read. I love to read. I don't read enough. Love a good historical drama (Tommo and Hawk, New York, Kane and Abel.)</li>
<li>I have so much Deja'vu. My theory is that it is situations of a past life. People who have very little or no deja'vu are new to their current life and those, like me, who have it often, have been in their life before (I know, weird...Don't judge)</li>
<li> I am really looking forward to turning 30</li>
<li>My first overseas trip was to New Zealand in 2002. I went skiing with two girlfriends...it was also my first time skiing.</li>
<li>I knew that I would marry my husband as soon as I met him. Another deja'vu moment?</li>
<li>I am not a mathematician. 0-20 percentile band for 2 unit maths in my HSC. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the HSC - That was NOT GOOD! I am terrible at basic maths as well...times tables? Whats that? </li>
<li>I judge you when you use poor grammar. You are = You're, Have Not = Haven't, and for god sakes..it is YOU not YOUSE!!!!!!</li>
<li>I spent most of age 5 to age 10 on a boat. We owned two yachts over that period and I really didn't appreciate them as much as I should've.</li>
<li>Give me a dinner or BBQ at a friends place over a bar or pub. Sorry. I just dont enjoy having to wait for the bathroom or not getting a seat.</li>
<li>Against all good advice and words of warning from those who have done it before, my husband and i are demolishing and re-building our family home *Gulp* Oh yeah, and the builder said 26wks...so it will only take 26wks right??</li>
<li>I have never broken a bone. I broke my nose and dislocated my finger when I fell over in NY, but no arm or leg or toe.</li>
<li> I love Barbies. Between my sister and I we had 21. I still love Barbie. I got one for my birthday this year in actual fact. Poor Miss S and Miss E, they will have Barbie whether they like it or not!</li>
<li>Lasgane. My favourite meal would have to be Lasagne. And my lasgane at that. Exotic hey!</li>
<li>I hate coffee! Blurgh....The smell, the taste. I wish I did though, because it seems like it is really enjoyable. I have only just started drinking tea. I used to just not like hot drinks.</li>
<li>I have only ever lived with my parents and my husband, never with friends. Actually, I have never rented a house. We bought our first home before we got married and I moved in just after.</li>
<li>I don't wear perfume. I try to, but it gives me a headache.</li>
<li>Like a lot of women, I have too many clothes and only wear 1/3 of them. Some of them are my "skinny" clothes (which I haven't worn since before Miss S) and some are my fat clothes (which I am happy to say I haven't worn since just after Miss E was born). </li>
<li>I'm a Gin & Tonic gal. Champagne when I am out with the ladies, but a G&T after 5pm at home (not every night!) really hits the spot.</li>
<li>My wonderful girlfriends and I try to orgainise "Ladies Lunch" as often as possible (which is getting harder). Good food and drinks with lovely company. A chance to dress up and talk crap. So lovely.</li>
<li>I love dressing up. Always have. I hate that we don't have enough opportunity to dress up nowadays. I would love to have been able to wear hats and gloves and skirts with cinched in waists and stockings (maybe not when it is as hot as it is now). Dressing up for a day in the city or for morning tea like my grandmothers used to do.</li>
<li>I would love to do a creative writing class or something similar.</li>
<li>Dream Holiday? hhhhhhhmmmmmm....Tropical island somewhere. Over water bungalow, crystal clear water, butler, good book and my family (they can only come if they behave themselves the whole time and there is no whinging).</li>
<li>I enjoy watching sport: Cricket, Rugby (Union, NOT LEAGUE!!) AFL. I am even not that bad with the rules.</li>
<li>I actually cope quiet well on very little sleep...until it goes on for too long!! I find it impossible to sleep during the day. WHat do they say: Live while you're alive, sleep when you're dead. That being said, I love my bed. Our first major "married" purchase. So good!!</li>
<li>As you may already know, I am incredibly indecisive! It is so frustrating for me and for people around me. It is something that I am working on for 2011.</li>
<li>I have a strange obsession with Sharks? Bizarre i know. I used o borrow all the shark books from the library and I have the complete set of Jaws movies. Shark Week on The Discovery channel is the best week of my year! I dont think i would ever swim with them as I am absolutely terrified, but they really are fascinating....especially the Great White Sharks that breach in South Africa.</li>
<li>I love storms. There was a moderate sized "cyclone" that hit suburbia when I was little. The sky was green, the wind was so noisy I couldn't hear myself scream. It was terrifying, but beautiful all the same. My Pa taught me about thunder and lightning and I am looking forward to teaching Miss S and Miss E to count between the thunder claps and lighting strikes.</li>
<li>I love old movies: Brigadoon, the Red Ballet Shoes, Gigi, Daddy Long Legs, My Fair Lady...and the list goes on! My mum used to encourage me to sit up and watch them with her and I am so pleased she did. And I will do the same with my girls.</li>
<li>I did Ballet for 5 years. And I was good (If I do say so myself). I wanted to keep going but my ballet teacher said I had too short a neck to be any good...Nice, Mrs Callaghan!</li>
<li>I tend to start a lot of thing, but never finish them. This is another thing I am working on in 2011.</li>
<li>I'm aiming to loose 15 kgs (at least) for my 30th birthday at the end of the year</li>
<li>I prefer to give presents than receive. I have always had that inkling, but Christmas this year really brought it home. Don't get m wrong, I love presents, but seeing the look on someones face when they open something that you have given them warms my heart.</li>
<li>I like nice things. Call me materialistic, call me a label snob. I don't care. I like nice things.</li>
<li>This is the life that I dreamed of. The only difference would be that everyone would have what they wanted.</li>
<li>Despite working in retail for 10 years, I have no idea about fashion or accessorising. Horrible waste of time that was hey! </li>
<li>I am terrible at answering calls, returning calls and keeping in touch (as I'm sure some of friends will agree with). I do try, but believe it or not, I am busy too! </li>
</ol><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I'm actually not going to read over this list. Sorry if I have repeated myself. I encourage everyone to make a similar list....it's very enlightening.</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-30135721856117081392011-01-08T16:26:00.000+11:002011-01-08T16:26:07.081+11:00The one about Encouragement....<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm sure a lot of mums, stay at home and working, will no doubt agree with this one: Motherhood is a very rewarding, yet seldom rewarded, job (don't worry, I'm not going down the slippery slope of "Stay at home mum vs working mum" or even "woe is me, stay at home mum is under appreciated", so you can all keep reading). I have never worked in the "corporate" world and only towards the end of my illustrious retail career did we have formal written appraisals. So today I am thinking: What if I had an appraisal for my current role of at home mum. A role I rather arrogantly like to refer to as "GM of the House (all encompassing)". Of course it would come down to those in charge of scoring me. Let me go through my "superiors/bosses/management team" (whatever they are called nowadays) and the daily feedback I get from them.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><b>My Husband:</b> He gives me praise and pats me on the back often. Whenever he remembers to do so, which is often after i have pointed out x, y or z that i have done. He does however give me a bad report if I a)spend too much, b) spend too much. Maybe he should comment "further training in budget control needed" after his tsk-ing and actually follow through with his training?<i> Oops...Not telling you how to do you job honey xx</i></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Miss S:</b> I really do get more complaints and tantrums from her than I do praise. As I'm sure (please) many mums of two and bit year olds do. She is the toughest critic. Not liking what I put out for her to wear to complaining about me taking to long ANYWHERE. This all means diddly squat mind you because often, at least once daily, I get the best reward: "mum, guess what? I love you". </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><b>Miss E:</b> Don't let her small size and young age fool you. Miss E is up there with Miss S. She doesn't even need to use words for me to know that she is unhappy with things, just a "BAAAAAAA" and I am back on track and working up to her high standards again. She has a very interesting management approach though. As quickly as something <i>dis</i>pleases her ("BAAAAAAA"), something pleases her and she is all smiles and giggles and love. She is tricky!</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Oh my goodness! Did you see that they are the only people who are allowed to judge me in my role?! Did you notice that I didn't add the disapproving women in the supermarket who think Miss S should be on a leash - better still- in a cage? Or the other mothers in the park who believe that Miss E should be crawling, walking, doing cartwheels and juggling? I noticed. And it made me feel good. I love my family's encouragement and I absolutely relish their praise.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">On a side note (somewhat relevant to the topic), there has been a lot of jibing since my little project* began. Mostly in jest. Actually, all of it for a laugh and i Have a very thick skin. I'm not sure what I expected. I never really thought about what I was going to write or the consequence of writing in such a public arena. I just sort of started writing. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> My husband for one has been flitting around, asking with a childish giggle (that only he can do) "would you with two like dinner/to go out/go to bed etc hehehehe" (Oh, look, he is a poet and he didn't know it!!) <i>*insert rolling eyes here*</i>. I have the well meaning moron who tries to make up his own version like "Me with Tree" (HAHA! That one was last night and after he said it, he very sheepishly said that in actual fact he really enjoyed reading this. Thankyou xx) and I have one certain follower who is so keen on being included and blogged about that he insists on saying appropriate things just so I will bitch and moan about how inappropriate he is (he isn't at all mind you...a more selfless gentleman i am yet to meet). Then there are some people who I know would have read it, but clearly just think this is all just Me dribble and hence don't comment (fine by the way, you are dead right. Definitely Me dribble). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"> I am pleased I make some people laugh, some nod there head and some roll their eyes. Praise all the same. Encouragement. Again, a part of me that has not changed. I loved praise as a me and I love praise with (and from) my three.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*just for the record, i am no longer calling this a blog. It really doesn't sit well with me and it's not even "technically" a blog. I don't want to upset any real "bloggers" out there (as if they are reading!!) Some people paint. Some people sew. This is my creative outlet. A real blog has pictures and photos and inspirational quotes etc. Even though you mostly know who i am, i like the anonymity that i have tried to create. So from now on "Me with Three will be known as a: project; Creative outlet; insight; thought process etc etc you get the idea.</span></i></span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-58125839674077553832010-12-27T21:52:00.000+11:002010-12-27T21:52:33.633+11:00Bring in the New<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">Okay, Okay...I'm sorry, I have been neglectful. I have left you out in the cold. I have. I have cast you aside. I have put you at the bottom of my list. How awful. I'm sure though, like an old friend, you will understand. We have had quite a bit on this last month. Shall I bore you with how busy I have been?? No, no...I'm sure you have been just as busy. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I spose, in a nutshell: new house, new toys, new-ish body, new teeth (Miss E) along with new tricks, new business, new clothes (heaps of!), new friends, new habits (some bad ones too). And amongst all that Miss S is still making me laugh (perfect example: Christmas day in the wadding pool, no bigger than a bath "Okay everyone in the pool" It was a cracker!!) and Miss E has kept on growing. They both have been learning each day. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;">I am, surprisingly, managing all of these new things quite well. I never used to be able to handle new things well. Change was okay, but new...not so good. I like old. Old is like a comfy blanket. The one we keep close to the lounge for snuggling. Or, like comfy, nanna undies: really should get rid of them, but you know that they are good under white and have no lines under jeans. I think that this ability to handle this new is a must. I have to see good and be positive because I have two little people who are yet to learn about negative. I want my girls to always see the good. The positive side. Sure, being realistic is essential, but seeing the bright side to every situation is, i believe, vital. It really can get you through anything. I was watching "Titanic" (What, poor example???) today and Jack is so positive in the end. He makes Rose swear that she will not give up (think negatively) and so she survives (may help that she wasn't the one in the water). Yes, it is just a movie, but it did make me realise how being positive is such an important thing to teach my girls. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I think I have become more positive since having them in my life. Since being me plus 3. Positivity breeds happiness and I want them to come from a happy place, a positive environment. I'm sure all mothers want that for their children. I believe for them to be positive means they will be okay when I'm not there to pick up their pieces (although, I don't plan on that happening!!)</span> I<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> can't stop "bad" things happening to them, but i believe me being positive during this slightly stressful (<i>remember all the <u>new</u> in the 2nd paragraph? new house, new toys, new-ish body, new teeth (Miss E) along with new tricks, new business, new clothes (heaps of!), new friends, new habits (some bad ones too)</i>) time will show them that moving on and heading forward is possible, ok and exciting.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Happy New Year</span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-71002180669238969282010-11-20T22:13:00.000+11:002010-11-22T13:47:01.582+11:00I wish they'd told me.....<div style="text-align: justify;">To not drink too much. Dont do that. Take your makeup off at night. Wear sunscreen. Dont eat that. Eat this. Study harder. Dont try too hard. Try harder. You look beautiful. Dont wear that. Read more. Play more. Exercise more. Drink more water. Stop spending money. Dont go there. Enjoy every minute. Dont fight with your mother. Dont fight with your sister. Mother knows best. Go to bed! Having children would change relationships. Having children changes your heart. Nothing is worse than sleep deprivation. You will not go back to pre-pregnancy weight immediately after the chid is born. Yes, you look like a whale. No, you should not wear that. No matter how much Bio Oil you go through, you will get stretch marks. It's going to hurt...a lot. You will need Maternity Pads...a lot of them. You will need Breast Pads...a lot of them. Having one child changes you. Having two children changes you. Nothing ever goes to plan. You are a supermum without having to be supermum. This too shall pass. You will meet new people along the way. People will like you for who you are. It takes all sorts. You have done your best. Listen more. Talk less. Speak up. Cry. I'm sorry. I love you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Actually...they did tell me. Lots and lots. And now it is my turn:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Don't drink too much. Dont do that. Take your makeup off at night. Wear sunscreen. Dont eat that. Eat this. Study harder. Dont try too hard. Try harder. You look beautiful. Dont wear that. Read more. Play more. Exercise more. Drink more water. Stop spending money. Dont go there. Enjoy every minute. Dont fight with your mother. Dont fight with your sister. Mother knows best. Go to bed! Having children would change relationships. Having children changes your heart. Nothing is worse than sleep deprivation. You will not go back to pre-pregnancy weight immediately after the chid is born. Yes, you look like a whale. No, you should not wear that. No matter how much Bio Oil you go through, you will get stretch marks. It's going to hurt...a lot. You will need Maternity Pads...a lot of them. You will need Breast Pads...a lot of them. Having one child changes you. Having two children changes you. Nothing ever goes to plan. You are a supermum without having to be supermum. This too shall pass. You will meet new people along the way. People will like you for who you are. It takes all sorts. You have done your best. Listen more. Talk less. Speak up. Cry. I'm sorry. I love you. Thankyou.</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-84653330619743772582010-11-18T21:49:00.000+11:002010-11-18T21:53:20.757+11:00One of "Those" Days<div style="text-align: justify;">So often, I read articles or blog posts about how "today was one of <i>those</i> days". A day that is trying, to say the least. For me that is Miss S doing absolutely everything that i don't want her to. I find that these days are specifically when I am tired, sick, hungry, cranky....(hhhhmmmmm, I wonder if it is her or me??). Then add to the mix, the odd occasion where Miss E has the cranks too. Arggh!!! Yes, those days are hard. But today, no. Today. They. Were. Perfect. I had a wonderful day with my girls today. Again, Spring turned on a beautiful morning. With promises of bird watching, park playing and even feeding the geese, we rushed out the door first thing.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So instead of bitching about my day, I am going to praise it. Today I felt like a good mum. Today I felt like all the hard work and lack of sleep and added kilos was worth it. Today was like music. Harmony and licks and that funny little "ahah-AHAHAH-ahahah" thing that Mariah Carey does. Why? I don't know. Not any one thing or person. Just one of those days where you get out bed feeling like you have slept for ages. I got up way earlier than usual (normal time for my wonderful husband) and I ironed one of his shirts. Maybe I had such a good day because it started with a good deed (Good theory...I might try it again tomorrow)? The girls slept til they were meant to and we had a snuggle before it was time to get moving. Breakfast went down without a hitch, washing went on and we were gone. No traffic...not much anyway. and singing variations of "Baa Baa black sheep" (We got to "Baa Baa Miss S Blue sheep...." Dont ask!) Totally not stressful. And then, once we arrived at the park, Miss S walked next to the pram so beautifully through Woollahra, she played most beautifully with her cousin and was full of ""yes mummy" and "I love you mummy" 's all day. I was lucky enough to have in my care the most pleasant, happy, cheerful and obedient 2 year old and 7mth old</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Anyway, my point is ...actually, I don't really think I have a point. I think this is merely an ode to our day. Perhaps this day was sent to make me realise that "Godammit" I have done something right as a mum! Perhaps it appeared to show me that <i>those</i> days really are actually all of my making and all in my head. Me with Three promises to breathe when I am tired or cranky and look at the good the girls are doing instead of the bad. Me with Three will sing "Baa Baa Pink Sheep" continuously just to hear giggles coming from the back seat. Me with Three vows to start everyday with a good deed. Perhaps that will work. Me with Three will start having more of <i>these</i> days and hopefully less of <i>those</i> days.</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-27203457877386058322010-11-10T17:50:00.000+11:002010-11-10T21:14:51.644+11:00Mmmmmm, Can You Smell the Rain?<div style="text-align: justify;">I wonder how many bloggers in Sydney are going to write abut the joys of a warm morning and then a tropical thunderstorm in the afternoon?? I don't care!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is something about only needing a sheet on top of you when you sleep at night. And waking up early in the morning for the toilet and not freezing your arse off to get there and back. Something about getting out of the shower and lazily dressing instead of breaking a speed record to get clothed and warm. Sleeping with the windows open (locked open) and having cool summer salads for dinner.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">We have all whinged and whined about the slow start of summer, but it seems today was a taste of what is to come. Suits Me with Three just fine.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The warm mornings mean I can do a load of washing and get it hung out before we trot off to socialise. It means Miss S can go berserk with the sunscreen (she loves it! Ain't no UV rays getting through all of the cream!!!). Miss E can get around without having her toes covered up with pretty socks or all in ones. Imagine feeling carpet, grass or floorboards on the soles of your feet for the first time! We can get out and play with our friends (mine included). Sitting in the shade of an awning while little naked bodies run around under a sprinkler and in a wadding pool. Of course the warm weather totally caught this ill-prepared mother by surprise - hence the little bottoms running around. No cossies, no towels, no hats...oops!! Lucky Miss S had smothered every skin cell in UV factor 50! <i><u><b>NOTE</b></u>: It was very funny however to see her a little bit "frightened" shall I say, by the wadding pool. Does that mean that A) I am a bad mother for not showing her one til now, B) I am a bad mother for making her play in it , C) I am a bad mother because she was frightened of it in the first place OR D) I am a bad mother because I am a bad mother??? I tell you...A mother's guilt!! When I was a me, I never felt as guilty as I do every second of every day about every little thing! I digress.....</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Home in time for sleeps, some me time, and then, by wake up time, the storm clouds had set in and it had become what I can only imagine it is like before a tropical thunderstorm. You know, the ones that we read about in dream time stories. The ones where the earth gods were "so angry that..."and something was created. Angry black clouds, the ants scurrying around, that eerie feeling. Exactly the calm before the storm.<i> </i>That sticky air that is oppressive. It actually made me want to vacuum....don't ask why!?! This suits me perfectly because Miss S sat transfixed by the clouds as it slowly, slowly got darker and darker. She watched the lightning and heard the thunder, 10 seconds, 9 seconds, 5 seconds later. Then the rain. The buckets and buckets of rain. Rain that our old, rusted gutters (not replacing them cos the whole house is being demolished in a matter of weeks!) could not hold and let spill out over the sides. She smelt the smell that has not changed in my 30yrs. That sweet, hot, smell that can only be described as "hot day after rain" smell. Everyone knows that smell, and I am yet to meet anyone who dislikes it. And then it all goes. In half the amount of time it took to arrive. The storm was nothing compared to the build up and the anticipation. Sure it is great, but the apprehension, the expectation is what I love. How big a storm is it going to be?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Later in the evening, me with two girls asleep, I can sit with my hubby with the windows open, smelling the rain and watching "summer" TV. Drinking cool water, that very easily could be a Mojito or Pina Colada if we were anywhere else. And then falling into bed....wearing summer jammies and only a sheet.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So you can see why these days suit me. I think it is the nostalgia. The summer activities that I used to partake in when I was little, I can re-create for my girls. For me, when summer comes, it brings with it memories of tastes and smells and days spent swimming in pools so heavily chlorinated that we came out seeing rainbow rings around the lights. Running under sprinklers, just as my girls (or girl, sorry Miss E) did this morning. Being so tired that a day time nap was a must. And then awaking to an imminent storm...how big a storm??? Only time will tell. Dinner, a cool bath and then bed with only a sheet covering you. These days, so nearly exact to mine, suit me perfectly. Not only being able to have a re-do of all my childish, summer fun, but being able to introduce my two (and sometimes three) to the smell of rain.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">These days mean that Summer is coming...it may be taking it's time, but the me with three can't wait. Just as excited as the me used to be.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-20671818180379681802010-11-08T19:36:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:24:04.602+11:00Life through Little Eyes<blockquote style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Hold your breath.....<br />
Make a wish.....<br />
Count to three....... </i></span></blockquote><blockquote style="color: black; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Come with me<br />
And you'll be<br />
In a world of Pure imagination.<br />
Take a look<br />
And you'll see<br />
Into your imagination.<br />
<br />
We'll begin</i><i><br />
With a spin<br />
Traveling in<br />
The world of my creation.<br />
What we'll see<br />
Will defy<br />
Explanation.<br />
<br />
If you want to view paradise,</i><i><br />
Simply look around and view it.<br />
Anything you want to, do it<br />
Want a change the world?<br />
There's nothing to it.<br />
<br />
There is no</i> <i>life I know<br />
To compare with Pure imagination.<br />
Living there<br />
You'll be free<br />
If you truly wish to be......</i></span> </blockquote><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>-Willy Wonka from "Charlie and The Chocolate Factory" </i></span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-12468131880526495882010-11-07T19:20:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:23:44.482+11:00Cheers To Sunday<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's to Sundays. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky Sundays. Sundays that start at 7am (?) with "cuggles" in bed with all four of us (thank god we have a king size bed!!). Breakfast as usual and then washing! Heaps of washing. When it has been a rainy week, it's can be whole week load of washing. Hung out on the line to dry. Flapping in the breeze. My mum once confessed that she found sheets hanging on the line, drying in the breeze very satisfying....I concur. I thought she was crazy way back when I was a me, but now...how good is it!! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">One down for a morning sleep. The other having Daddy time doing our weekly shop. I should mop, vacuum or at least attempt to do something domestic, but no. This is nice Sunday time. Sunday time when my sweetheart can be busy, but I get to relax...aaaaaaahhhhhhhh. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Feed one and off we go. Here's to Sundays that have been booked up months in advance with BBQ's and parties and general social occasions. Cheers to Sundays that weren't booked up until the last minute (even if it was a sneaky "invite ourselves" arrangement). Seeing old friends. Old friends who get better every time you see them. Meeting new friends and sharing their happy news: New houses, new jobs, babies? Doing laughable themed gatherings. Mexican Sunday. Bogan Sunday. Seafood Sunday. Days that may be fleeting, but will last in our minds for ages. Long enough to regale the tales of fun with Miss S and Miss E when they are teenagers as my parents do with us. Days that barely have serious conversations, instead joke after joke after one liner after one liner. Happy news shared on the balcony. And such a damn fine balcony it is. Sunny. Overlooking a clean, inviting pool and a leafy happy neighborhood. There may be inappropriate comments and well meaning morons...but that makes us love these days (and gentlemen) even more. You know it has been a good day when Miss S is asleep in the car before we have left the suburb. When Miss E giggles quietly in the back. When hubby drives home with a slight sunburnt glow and when I have a stupid grin on my face remembering some of the fun. You know it has been a good Sunday when the bottle bin is overflowing.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">And so the day is nearly over. Home to bed for the girls and a recorded "Hey Hey it's Saturday" for us....Hang on. It's Sunday. The best way to start a working week. Here's To Sunday xxx</span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-66496270416261744722010-11-06T10:45:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:23:24.492+11:00Indecisiveness is a Cruel thing<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">I am indecisive. I hate it. I was like this as a Me and I am worse now! It is horrible. For some it is a procrastination thing. Not for me. For me it is seriously a matter of which option is best. What will be the best outcome for me...and for other people. You could look at that as being unselfish, considering others in each decision I make. But no alas, it is not. I just <b>have</b> to weigh up all sides. Is it analytical? No. It is terrible. My husband goes bonkers. I ask him to make decisions for me to prevent the inevitable hour of anguish, but he never makes the right one. Perhaps I'm indecisive and a control freak? </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">What kind of decisions do I find difficult? Hhhmmmm, let me think. Yesterday, I spent an hour of my Me time trying to decide which topic I should write about (I hope I made the right decision). I don't cook dinner anymore, because I can never decide what to cook. Poor Miss E has to wait 20mins longer for any meals she gets so I can weigh up the options "If I give her pear and Carrot now, she wont want Carrot later"...really, REALLY, she is 6mths old, I don't think she is going to turn her nose up carrot twice in a day, especially after getting breastmilk ONLY for the first 4mths of her life! That is what a rational person would think...but no...not me. I spend the time debating in my head and it is only after the fact that I realise what an idiot I am being. Painful! Don't even go there with outfit decisions! That is the worst. I have even been at the point of walking out the door and then changing my mind AGAIN after three changes previously! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">We are about to re-do our house. Can you just imagine the angst I am going through even just thinking about all the <i>permanent</i> decisions I am going to have to make?? That is the main problem. The indecision itself doesn't bother me. Its the anxiety I feel just before a decision has to be made. Will i make the right one? Will everyone approve of my decision? Even, will I change my mind after the decision is made?! RIDICULOUS! </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Where did this come from? My mum is a control freak, so perhaps it's a side effect of that? The desperation to not only make a decision, but to make the right decision? I don't think I am a perfectionist, so that can't be it. Apparently it is trait of my start sign (along with love of expensive things). Give me the work ethic of a Capricorn or the creativity of a Pisces any day!! Really!!</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">(Should I finish this here? Should I keep going? Maybe I should go and have a shower? Should Iwash my hair?) AAAARRRGGGHHH!!!</span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-56631837253078030032010-11-05T15:49:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:22:47.227+11:00Reliability = Warmth<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Well, for this blogger it sure does. Today I have <i>relied</i> more on my three than they have on me.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It began this morning when Miss S decided she was going to potter into our room very early (well not really very early, 6.15am. Early for us!). This is not accepted in our house. My husband loves it when they want to get into bed because he leaves for work early and it is his cuddle time...cool, you can have your cuggle time, but make sure you don't wake me up! Not this morning though. Miss S comes up to my side of the bed, dummy in mouth, breathing through her nose just staring at me. I can feel her wanting me to wake, i can hear her brain having the "do i wake her? but I'm not allowed to wake her. Go ahead, once she's awake, she's awake" conversation. With all my might i keep my eyes closed. Next i hear her shuffle over to his side. I am <i>relying</i> on him to pick her up and "cuggle" on his side. I can always <i>rely</i> on him. Thankyou honey. I managed to keep my eyes closed for an extra 15mins.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then Miss E decided it was awake time. Once again too early, and so once again, i <i>rely</i> on my beloved to get her up and bring her too me. And i say he never does anything for me. Do these things count? Of course they do but not when i use that sentence in an argument "YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR ME" kind of way. And so off he goes to work to make money so i can stay at home with our girls. I'm such a lucky lady.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then I begin <i>relying</i> on the girls. I rely on Miss S to eat her breakfast quickly and help me with the cupcakes. I <i>rely</i> on her to behave while i plait her hair (Human Barbie doll!) I rely on Miss E to hold of getting squawky until after we are in the car (had our weekly play date this morning. Morning tea for me cleverly disguised as a play date for them cos there are other children and toys there). I expect them to be well behaved, within reason. I<i> rely</i> on Miss E sleeping when i put her down. And Miss S for that matter.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, I may think that i do everything for them, (and yes unlike other mammals, human children are much more dependent on their parents) but sometimes I have to remind myself that i expect a lot of them and i <i>rely</i> on them just as much. While I <i>rely</i> on my hubby to "bring home the bacon", he <i>relies</i> on me to make sure the girls are "clean and shiny" (cleanliness of the house is another story). It is a wonderful, mutual agreement that is based on respect. As Miss S gets older too, i am going to <i>rely </i>and expect more and more of her....and too Miss E. Reminding myself daily that they are children, and children only get one childhood.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's a sobering thought to go through and remember who you <i>relied </i>on this day and a warming thought to think about who <i>relied</i> on you. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who did you rely on today?</span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-82750170799825806632010-11-04T16:27:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:20:42.526+11:00Me and Shopping<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is definitely something that i do differently now!! As a me, I would spend a good part of my income on ME. Something that my beloved can attest to. It used to drive him bonkers! the extent to which i had no idea, until recently when I emptied my wardrobe and found barely worn pieces that i vividly remember buying just because I "didn't like what i was wearing today". My goodness. I loved it! I also used to love the shopping experience. Driving to the shops, trying to formulate a plan of attack, finding the best parking spot without being lazy in parking too close. Then the actual event. Browsing once, twice even three times over the beautiful silk, or somewhat embellished pieces without caring for a second about the washing instructions (Who cares, I have time to hand wash/money to spend on drycleaning/as if they will get dirty anyway). Then taking armfuls to the fitting room, taking on and off the same item three times in indecisiveness. Having so much time to do so. Finding three things that fit and then gleefully making the trek to the counter. Bliss......<br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, we all know that the me with three is not going to have it as wonderful as this. Apart from anything, it just is not fair to make my two year old and my 6 mth old sit in traffic to find a park, sit in the pram while i balance my way down or up an escalator (why are lifts always full of people who don't need to use them?!) then sit in a pokey change room while i try on a few pieces that don't look like they should. Nope....my new shopping is of the online variety! Of course there is the obvious benefits of timing (i can shop when the girls are asleep, while dinner is being made, while...when anytime really), and the variety of stores (my latest craze is <a href="http://hopshopgo.com/">HopShopGo.com</a>), there is also the Surprise. The Just Me used to love the adventure, the Me Plus loves the element of Surprise. Something looks good online, you buy it (along with a few other things) wait, wait and wait. Then, when you are least expecting it...BAM....at your door! How good is that?! And then the anticipation. Does it fit? Does it look good? Will the i get a tick of approval from him? I get excited just thinking about my next purchases to arrive. I guess the me with three thinks everything is exciting now. I tend to look at the world through the eyes of a two year old.....shouldn't we all? Ooooohhh, a new topic of discussion awaits.</span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8053322201008953956.post-45001889314707329462010-11-04T15:03:00.000+11:002010-11-08T21:22:04.690+11:00And so we begin....<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Inspired by another blogger, friend and all round talented lady <a href="http://tamarajaynephotography.blogspot.com/">tamarajaynephotography.blogspot.com</a>, I begin spilling. I have read countless blogs/journals/posts about mums and their lives with their children and their children themselves and I love it! I love reading about the funny things they say and do and laughing at the computer and nodding...totally relating to everything that is written as mine do the same. And I wanted so bad to create a blog that explored my life with my daughters and my husband, but instead, I decided to make this more of a diary of me. Me With Three. Me with three beautiful people relying on me daily. What I'm like and what I think while relying on them, and loving them. You will have to excuse any grammatical mistakes or even spelling. I may contradict myself sometimes and be outspoken. But that is me. That didn't change when I became a plus one, two and then three. Does that even make sense?? Well, there is my first conundrum. Does the me with three even make sense anymore?? </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Who are my three?? Even though this is not about them, it is very important that you know them. Husband. Love of my life. High school sweetheart. Soul mate. We are best friends. Very little upsets us, but lots makes us laugh. That is a very comforting thought. That little upsets us, but lots make us laugh. Silly things make us laugh. Although we my argue, it is never over anything serious. I can remember 5 things that made us laugh last night, but nothing that made us angry recently. Amazing Dad. </span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Amazing Dad to our two daughters. Our supernova and our cheeky monkey. Blonde haired, blue eyed babes. So alike, but already, with 20mths between them, so different. Cheeky, dramatic and vibrant...Gregarious even. Miss 2 astounds me everyday! She is...so much. So much laughter. So much happiness. So much tears. So much joy. She can be a handful, as most 2yrs are, but i wouldn't want her to be anything else. She is the best of us. And too, the worst of us somedays.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enter Miss E. The best of us and the worst once again (although we are yet to see it). She is 6 1/2mths and my oh my that has gone quickly! I second guessed myself the whole way through my pregnancy with her and even up until she was 14wksold. But why? She is perfect. Eyes only for her sister...tracking the older version around the room as I try to feed her! All smiles and giggling. Miss E will be the one who gives them away when they get up to mischief. She wakes me up with raspberries and goo-gling. Bliss. Perhaps the more placid of the two, but no doubt her own person.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">So already, Me with Three is a more complete person. How on earth i could love anyone or thing more than my three, i have no idea. But I am definitely full of love. What is it? Loved up and Blissed out ;) The Me with Three most certainly is!</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span></span></div>Abbey (The Number 5)http://www.blogger.com/profile/10881249573548039758noreply@blogger.com1