for my babies

Always remember,

Act on your compassion, you will never regret a decision made out of it.

When something hurts something changes, when it doesn't hurt nothing changes think carefully about whether you want things changed or not.

Love,

 when your not loved back love anyway. 

No matter what form your body takes or where you take your body remember that there was a time when I kissed every inch of it. 

Your imperfections make you perfect. 

Forgive yourselves, your mistakes will help you, forgive each other you were born to be there for each other, forgive your dad, while he can be hard to understand he would die for any of us, most importantly forgive me, for the mistakes Im sure I will make. 

On his death bed your great uncle Winton told his daughters to above all else be free, Im borrowing this wisdom for you to interpret as you wish. 

A heart has to break to strengthen, it is unfortunately part of becoming a compassionate lover, protecting its barriers will only limit its development. 

Cry,

Whenever you feel like it. 

Have secrets that only each other knows. 

Be grateful, you were born into a country with a very high quality of life, be weary, you were born into a country thats very isolated from the rest of the world, be curious, leave this country but dont stay away from me for too long. 

Be Safe but not because your scared because you love yourselves. 

Question everything, except what your reading, never ever question the words from your mother!

Laugh,

Just laugh.  

Crying it out. (controlled crying)

We have all heard of controlled crying, Im sure we have all heard that latest research isnt recommending it. So what do you do when your little bubby is pushing the boundries of what you consider a possible amount of night feeds.
My six month old Arlo started out in this world as a dream baby, sleeping for 12 hours a night, never really crying a natural little self settler. Of course that was all about to change you see he's a crafty little bugger, once he realised that crying got him his mum, his mum got him a boob in his gob and a boob in his gob got him back to sleep in the most relaxing manner.
So how much is too much? I understand everyones threshold for night feeds vary, and mine may seem quite low to women who have 3 or 4 kids, however anything more then 2 night feeds and I begin to loose my shit.
So you can imagine how I felt the other night when Arlo had worked his way up to his 5th night feed, I cant function, I feel sick with exhaustion and I made the decision that there is no more Mrs Nice Mum- This is war Arlo and I will not be defeated.
You've got to hand it to the little ones, at only a few months old they learn the ins and outs of manipulating there way into even the most stubborn of mums beds.
So Crying it out is the only option, for me that is. I remember it working with my daughter Billie when she was a baby, back then I could handle even less sleep deprivation due to her being my first and me never really having to wake up for anything other then pregnant wee's before she came along. These days Im slightly more tolerant to it, thats probably why I have waiting until Arlo is 6 months before even flirting with the idea.
I call it crying it out instead of controlled crying because I actually cant stand the traditional controlled crying techniques, where you let them cry for a couple of minutes and then go into them, then they stop for a second and you do it all over again, in my experience that can last all night, I just have to let them cry until they fall asleep and be done with it.
So I set out for a night of tears, determined to turn my back on my little mans wales. I put him to bed at 6 and come 9pm he decided that a little bit of boosy was in order, I did nothing. I listened to him calling out for me, then I listened to the little chirps turn to screams as the shock of my absence set in, then I listened to the screams turn to sobs as his little heart broke and he came to the realisation that I wont always be there for him. Oh my god. My heart broke with his, I literally felt his little soul pounding against my heart. I love him with every part of me.
He finally fell asleep, defeated, heart broken. I checked on him to put his little blankets back on his little body and his breathing still had a sob to it. Of course you ask your self if your doing the right thing? If this is going to cause him or your relationship with him any long term damage? This was repeated 3 times that night, I didn't get any sleep, having to wait at least 30 minutes after he fell asleep every time to go and cover him back up and make sure he hadn't become tangled in his sheets. I made a promise to myself that one day I would explain to him what I had done, when he was old enough to understand and tell him that I never left, I was always right there listening, forcing myself to feel every bit of his pain, hoping that hearing this some little piece of his abandoned heart would be heeled.
In the morning Arlo was all smiles, Bill went to get him at 6am and he was peddling on his imaginary bicycle with a huge grin on his face, babies could teach us all a thing or 2 about forgiveness.
The following night Arlo didn't wake up once, well if he did he self settled, I had a good night sleep and he woke up happy again, I couldn't help but applaud myself and wonder if it works so well could it really be that bad? I don't think so, but in saying that I dont think its magic either, as last 3 nights ago he woke up once and I fed him, then 2 night ago he woke up twice and I crumbled again and last night the little bugger was back in my bed with his mouth snuggly wrapped around a boob for the entire night. Dam it, crafty little bugger.

So…. Driving through Cairns yesterday we see a sign for Sizzler…

Bill and I haven’t eaten there before, the kids are intrigured by the theory of all you can eat and we think to ourselves, well, there is 8 of us, we are trying to do this trip on a budget and we did hire a mini bus van thing.. People who drive mini bus van things eat at Sizzler all the time, So we made the commitment ‘tonight we feast on Sizzler’

We arrived at our destination at around 7pm, we are greeted by a local whom was kind enough to relay to us in his Queensland accent ‘Don’t choose the steak, its glued together’

Not entirely comprehending what Glued steak is or entirely put off by it we proceeded to the counter, where one is requested to read the menu, place an order and pay for the entire meal upon arrival. This took us a little longer then they are used to as we are not the once a week Sizzler heads that were currently occupying the restaurant.

It was my responsibility to request the gluten free menu, for Kaytlen who is of course Cyliac, I assumed that after the severe case of food poisening which lead to an apologetic add campaign a few years ago they would present me with an extensive GF menu. The woman working the till who Bill reffered to as ‘the brains of the operation’ proved me wrong. The look on her face at my request suggested that she had possibly only just at that second realised that her mother was also her aunty, oh the confusion.

After giving the staff a brief lesson on nutrition we established a general understanding for the word gluten along with establishing that it is basically the staple ingredient at Sizzler, there is gluten in the chips, ice cream probably even the water. Why? because like everything at Sizzler flour is cheap.

The décor is cheap, the soft serve is watery, the cheese is pre grated. The chief, who I’m sure was on sick leave due the Tennis elbow he has aquired while opening packets and cans all day obviously found his qualifications at the local Coles.

At desert time I picked up a spoon from a tray labled ‘Apple Strudle’ It was raw apple with cereal flicked over the top, my brother Will just walked past me and shook his head. I thought better of it.

When a waiter clearing our table accidently dropped a steak knife that landed half a cm away from Billie-Violets arm I would have usually been mad, not at Sizzler as the steak knives are so cheap they cant penetrate skin, just gluey steak. When I tried to explain this to our waiter he gave me the same look Brains had given me earlier that left me wondering if he had just figured out that his uncle was his dad.

Billie Violet gracefully broke the awkward tension by declaring her need for a poo and the waiter directed us and was quickely on his way, as any Jet Star flight attendant will tell you, uneatable food doesn’t sell itself.

The only thing that I can safely say wasn’t cheap about our sizzler experience was the actual price, around $35 a head mini van or no mini van I wont be returning. 

Kony

What makes a charity 'cool'?

I think one thing we know for sure is that Jason Russel doesnt have the answer to that question, the Kony 2012 campaign could have been cool, it ticked the cool box's, good looking front guy, cool music, but then became too cool and went back to being uncool. I was sucked in, I even bought the wrist band- but Ive never been cool so the hipster can recognise that I am by no means a threat and forgive me. 

Everyone is sick of Kony 2012, in fact I am more sick of everyone being sick of the campaign then I am of the campaign its self. 

Some people are saying that the Ugandan peoples reactions of anger towards the doco is a direct reflection of the films misguided nature. Im sorry but this is a third world country, how can we expect the civilians to understand our culture in the face book and digital technology age? How could they comprehend an idea to bring fame to someone via the internet in order to deface and potentially capture him? They cant, all they can do is watch the film and use their common sense to assume we are in some way celebrating this revolting human. 

Some people are crying out for poor Gavin, the painfully cute anglo kid in the doco, trying to rap his sheltered little head around the concept of a 'bad man' Well unlike a large portion of the children that came in to contact with Kony, Gavin will live, opening childrens eyes to the hard ships that other children are exposed to, if done correctly wont harm them only encourage compassion, so no I didn't concern myself with poor little Gavin.

Jason Russell tried to do a good thing, Im still not convinced that he had bad intentions, or that any harm will come to the people of Uganda due to the making of Kony 2012, Im of the old fashioned mind set that opening our eyes and minds to a cause has to be a good thing, even if its not a 'cool' thing, and this certainly has opened our eyes, even if by doing that the film makers have put themselves in to public forum as easy targets for the ridicule that they were no doubt expecting.

Of course then yesterday, after making my opinion on the making and makers of this documentery clear what was to happen? I turn on the news to discover that Jason Russell the guys I have defended, cute little Gavin's dad, someone we were told to trust with our money was caught publicly masturbating. Great, he was caught on film running up and down the streets naked with his nob in his hands, we trusted you Jason, our crusader, the worst part isn't that poor Gavin now not only knows that there are 'bad men' out there but also that daddy gets off on flashing traffic not to mention, this gives the cool kids a sense of righteousness, all the uneducated bloggers out there (myself excluded) are patting themselves on the back for their intuitive foresight. The world is as it should be, the academics can rest again knowing that one organisation cannot change the world by (god forbid) over simplifying things to grab public attention. 

Good one Jason.