honesty…it’s not just a policy.

I’m reminded today of why honesty is the way forward. Fact is, I got lied to…Now, anyone who knows me, knows what a stickler I am for the truth. Even if you think the truth is going to hurt, tell it anyway. It’s better to live with the actual consequences of truth, than let a lie fester. The truth always outs, anyway.

Moving beyond a lie? It’s not so easy. But, thing is, back in 2008, I resolved to try and be more forgiving. More understanding. Mostly of myself. That’s the hardest. I’m going to forgive myself for taking something that I thought was the truth and running with it. Defending it. It was all I had to work on. I forgive the untruth too. I seperate the behaviour from the person, and forgive. Let’s move on.



So, my Monday gratitude?

My Monday gratitude is simple.

My Monday gratitude is my ultimate thanks for Shmooshy. Always honest, to the intricate point. He gives me no reason to ever doubt him, and he trusts me. Moreover, he lets me trust him.

Note: I have gigantic trust issues. These are because I’ve been lied to alot in my life. This wonderful man accepted them, understood them, and won straight past them.

I trust him with my heart, I trust him with my daughter’s love.

I was watching them last night. Their little club of two, to which I am only sometimes invited. Sometimes, I am spurned and sent to the kitchen to do something other than ‘disturbing’ their inner circle.

They talk, they laugh, he lets Cam love him. The exact way she wants to love people – without boundary. He loves her straight back. In that way, that way where she gets to trust him. Lean on him.

A conversation he doesn’t know about happened yesterday. Someone very close to Cam and I remarked on their mutual open love for each other and smiled. How she ran off into the garden with Shmooshy when she got home from her dad. The person who remarked on their little inner circle of Cam-Shmoo-ness? Twas the one person on the planet who loves his daughter the most. Yep, her very own dad.

That was possibly one of the most powerful things he has ever done or said. Considering that I’ve known him since I was a foetus (yes, really), for him to turn around and tell me that…that it makes him smile to know that our daughter has another safe soul to come home to…

Not even if he had handed me a winning lottery ticket, could my heart have sung any higher.

My soul at rest watching the Cam-Shmoo duo playing Angry Birds together. And in my heart, I feel full circle. 360 kick-flipped, full circle.

In a world beleaguered by lies, deception and backstabbing, I have a circle of love that is founded on trust and littered with glitter.

All I am is gratitude.  Thank you my love. Big big up to the sky.

i found this

whilst tumbling and stumbling through a good friend and midnight-texting-and-talking-confidante‘s tumblr…

it made me think of Cam, who once said:

“mom. i love you so much it makes my heart feel hot”


“mom. if you are very quiet and listen, you can hear my heart love”

i still think we should let the four year olds of the world run the planet. they’d sort it out way better than us adults.

friday’s randoms

setting new precedents…

Some time this holiday i’m going to reflect on my resolution for 2009.

Remember it? It was “patience”.

and in 2009, i think i learnt how to be patient.

//that doesn’t stop me getting excitable, though. if there’s one thing we know about me, it’s that i get excitable. shurrup. you love me for it//

as for 2010, i’m not copping the usual “survive it” resolution.

i’ve got one better. it’s still forming, mind. have some patience, will you? 😛

anyway, today, I’m raising a toast to Angel and Glugster. The greatest love story. The love story that has had me crying, yelling and air-punching.

Happy Anniversary my darling friends. May every blessing meet your every sunrise.

And..in other news..

Last night, Gatesface and I caught up on the old dog ‘n bone. Sheena, I miss you fuckbitch. And i love how I still know your every ‘movement’ BWAHAHAH.

Cam is having her Christmas play today. So, I’ll be there.

Shortly after that, I’ll be seeing my boyfriend.

I just heard the collective swoon.

I liked that.

Do it again.



Discipline. It’s that quintessential life principle that gets drummed into us from day bloody one.

I need you to know this before I continue, I hate rules. I loathe being told “no, you can’t do that”. So, when it comes to discipline, I battle. But, as life has grown me up and made me think about things over and over again, I’ve developed and stick to my own set of rules. And yes, stick to them like flies to that you-know-what paper, I do.

For that, I blame my parents. They weren’t ever particular sticklers for the conventional “be a good girl, keep your mouth shut, do as you’re told” rulings. In fact, their lives weren’t even remotely good examples of “keeping their mouths shut”. For that, I am eternally thankful, even when it makes me unpopular. I don’t have the ability to keep my mouth shut when something irks me, annoys me or is shown to me as an injustice. Above all of that, I can’t stand people who beat around the bush. Either be direct, stick your neck out, say what you mean to say, and we’ll deal with it. People who try to pussy-foot around an issue, generally don’t get my respect or my abiding.

This is one good reason why SheBee and I can live together. Neither of us are pussy-footers. Some people call us fullashit, but we call a spade, a spade.

When I was growing up, my folks used their voices. Alot. I cannot think of a time when they weren’t talking. Heh. My mom also had a very unique way of telling us when we were in the shit.

If I’d been a bit of a naughty shit the day or night before…Mom would simply make me a beetroot sandwich for school lunch. Now, beetroot sandwiches are actually great freshly made. But, leave them in your lunchbox for the four hours between leaving home and lunch break and, well, by the time you whip them out to eat them… all you have is a pink, soggy mess. That was generally enough to let me know I’d been a bit of a shit. Trust me, having your school friends look at you askew because you’ve got soggy pink bread for lunch, makes you feel distinctly UNcool and it works pretty darn well.

I digress…

When it comes to discipline, when it comes to rules, when it comes to the “no, you can’t” and “yes, you can” debate for Cam…I’m not all that conventional.

I’m not a smacker. I have a simple rule on this, if she smacks someone, I’ll smack her hand. Undoubtedly, I’ll kiss it better and give her a love afterwards but, I will never smack my child in anger. I can’t do it. It’s just not me. And that’s not me being weak, that’s me knowing that that’s how I want to raise my child.

When it comes to enforcing a rule though. I’m a shouter.

Now, in our house, our rules are not conventional. The primary rule in our house is bedtime. And I will shout about it, if I have to. Generally though, I win before I have to shout. I’m a negotiator, true, and I believe that gentle reminders for about half an hour before bedtime make things easier.. “after this Gummi Bears, it’s bedtime, okay?” generally garner a very cute “okay” response and there’s not much hassle beyond there. Face it, No kid likes to be told it’s time to go to bed, fuck, I hated being told it. But, it has to happen. And it does. Most of the time.

Oi, nobody’s perfect and anyone who says they are is simply another one of those things I cannot stand – a liar. =)

So, in our house and our lives, we don’t have the “eat at the table; children should be seen and not heard; no, you can’t wear a ballgown to school; dessert is only for after dinner” rules. We have good ones. Cameron is a stickler for please and thank you and is learning, very well, how to share. We don’t care about drawing on the walls, as long as it’s crayon. We don’t care about paint, as long as it’s on the sheet and not on the carpet and yes, we can throw stuff in a bowl and make a big mess and pretend to bake. Yes, on the floor. No, I don’t care if it makes a mess.

Someone pretty random in my life that I went to school with, Wendy, taught me a critical life lesson about child-raising many, many years ago. She, in passing, whilst we were sitting at a soccer game (don’t ask questions just accept, people…) said to me: “having three kids is hard. But I just don’t worry about anything that a shower or a good cloth can fix”.

I can never thank her enough for saying that. I am anal about cleaning the house. But, when it comes to Cam’s mess, I let her have her mess.

And, funnily enough, it’s Cam who says “Mommy, I want to clean” or “Mommy, I want to wash the dishes”. She knows that mess means cleaning up afterwards. Most of the time. Again, Nobody’s perfect, and anyone who says they are is, you guessed it, a liar.

So, yeah, Rules. Mine aren’t normal. But, yes, I’m a shouter. A big one.  I am not scared to raise my voice to make my point when trying to cajole a three year old away from a tantrum.

So, if you ever see a short lady walking down the street holding the hand of a little girl wearing wellington boots and a fairy princess dress whilst they sing and eat ice cream BEFORE dinner, that’s us.

Living our lives our way, thanks very much.