Why maths is handy when making important decisions

This morning was the annual Sydney Markets Cherry Auction. Because my family are fruit wholesalers - and we sell cherries - I am almost always in attendance.

This has never been a problem in the past. It was one day that I had to get up early and drag my butt out of bed and into Sydney Markets. In fact, before I had Missy Moo, I used to do that six.days.a.week. For those of you familiar with Sydney traffic, particularly the M4, you'll understand what a feat that is.

Courtesy of a newborn who hated car trips and the aforementioned Sydney traffic - we only got half way to the markets last year before I turned my car around and took my screaming baby home. Last year, the first box of cherries sold for $110,000. Yes, you read that right, $110,000!

And I missed it. Whoops! So the pressure was on for me to make an appearance this year.

After I snoozed my alarm twice this morning at 5am, I calculated how many hours sleep I'd had (5) versus how many hours I'd have to work at my paid employment today (7) taking into consideration the following factors:

• I could spend some time with the hubster if I went in.
• Missy Moo is booked in to attend daycare today - meaning if I choose to stay home I can let her sleep in as long as she likes and NOT have to wake her up at 7am like every.other.day.
• There is good coffee at the markets.
• Peak hour traffic into Sydney bites the big one.
• Missy Moo could wear her gorgeous Cherry dress I bought for her months ago and look really cute.
• I'd have to drive over an hour and Missy Moo usually throws a tanty for car trips exceeding 20 minutes.

In the end my sum looked like this

5(hours sleep)/7(hours of work)-6(for loosing my sleep-in)+7(for good coffee)-100(for peak hour traffic)+4(for the cute dress)-20(for taking Missy Moo on a car trip longer than 20 minutes) but when I added into the equation spending a bit more time with the hubster, it made it all worth it and we trekked our butts in there to watch the box of cherries get sold for $65,000.

And I drank some nice coffee.

Also, this morning when I woke up, I felt like blogging - and I haven't felt like that in a while... a long while. So I figured if I was going to bore you with something, it might as well have been about the Cherry Auction.

Did you hear about the Cherry Auction today?

The Black Sack

I have a black sack.

The Devine Mrs M said to me 'only a mum can know how wonderful a black sack is.' She might be right.

This is my 5th pregnancy. I'm only 5 weeks pregnant. But it feels good.

I'm exhausted, I'm sick, I'm feeling all kinds of pregnant.

This include jealous.

I wasn't jealous today while my friends sipped wine and beer as we celebrated the hubster and my ability to survive our first year of parenting without any major parental failures.

But I am jealous as I sit here and the hubster and the SIL are sitting out on the porch, smoking some flavoured tobacco via the hubbly bubbly (and no, that is not code for anything illegal, it really is just flavoured tobacco) and relaxing. Because I don't want to be out there in the second hand smoke, not while pregnant.

So I've been sitting here fart-arsing reading blogs and playing on facebook, thinking they'll drag their arses come back inside again soon, so I can be included in on the conversation, but it has been near an hour and I'm tired so I think I'll go to bed and just be happy that I have a black sack that keeps me inside, away from the second hand smoke.

But it does pose this question, have you ever placed restrictions on your partner while you've been pregnant? I'm not about to go outside and tell him to get his butt back inside, but I'd kinda like too! What have you requested your partner change/miss out on while you are/were pregnant?

Ladies and Gents, I need your opinions!

Hi Guys,

To top off a fabulous month filled with hand, foot and mouth, conjunctivitis, the loss of my wonderful cleaning ladies, some kidney problems and some breathing problems (yes, we've had a rough month!) some poor person ran up the back of my stationary car (luckily bubs and I weren't in there, but the poor hubster was and now has a nasty case of whip lash) and my car is ruined.

It's fine, it's just a material item and nobody was badly injured BUT I do need to replace the little miss's car seat and I was looking for your input, which car seats do you recommend.

We have been using the Safe and Sound Premier Retractor seat so I don't know whether to get the same model or get one that will last her longer.

She's currently 2 weeks off her 1st Birthday (yay! we made it!) and 9kg. She is tall though.

So which seats have you used and had good experiences with? Or bad experiences too?

Thanks for all your help!

Kicking Butt With Attitude

A positive attitude can go a long way. And I've really needed one over the last two weeks. I thought things were bad a week and a half ago, and then my husband caught Hand, Foot and Mouth from my daughter and my fabulous cleaning ladies told me they had to sell part of their area (the part that I'm in!) because there was just too much work to do!

HFM really sucks for an adult
The Hubster couldn't open jars,
it hurt to wear shoes and it was not pretty.
Luckily he's super awesome and
took it all in his stride.
Love you super awesome hubster!

I'll now have a man cleaning my house. Score for feminism but it kind of weirds me out. I don't know why really. In theory, I shouldn't care. In theory, I should be fine with a person of either gender cleaning my house because it shouldn't really matter. But I do secretly wonder if he'll do as good a job. On the up side, my cleaning ladies have asked if they can still come round for a cuppa to catch up on the goss and hang out with me and Missy Moo, so at least I won't be missing out on our regular bitch gossip sessions!

Everybody keeps asking me how I am, and I know it's because they care, but I had my whinge right here on this blog and then I got on with the, you know, getting on with it. It's part of what I love about The Land of Blog - I bitch vent express emotions, get support via comment love and then feel like Super Woman, able to conquer all the sewerage bucketing down.

Blog Land also frequently reminds me of Real World Problems. While my problems are real in my world, really, they are minuscule compared to what others are suffering. I wasn't in a hospital with my child, away from my the rest of my family like Daisy, I wasn't fighting for the right to marry the person I love like people who are gay (on a side note, if straight people really hate gay people so much, maybe they should stop having them - how many gay people need to be born before you realise God meant them to be that way?), I wasn't struggling to keep a farm afloat like so many farmers and I certainly wasn't battling any eating disorder, mental illness, post traumatic stress or sexual assault*.

I was just me, having a crap week and asking for a virtual hug.

Thank you for my many virtual hugs. I feel very blessed.

So I guess the point of this rant post is to say, be happy. Know that we are so very blessed. Sometimes crap things happen. Usually all at once. But we will survive.

We have love, and food, and a roof over our heads.

And we have the support of our online buddies. The most awesome of awesome people.

Kick butt with a positive attitude.

Because YOU ROCK!

UPDATE: My daughter had her next round of tests this morning and it looks like she won't need surgery *queue tears of relief*. She will need to stay on antibiotics for a while (what are antibiotics compared to surgery? A walk in the park is what!) so hip hip hooray!

*the list is so long, I could go on and on and on (yes, even more than I did) so if I didn't include your challenge, it doesn't mean I wasn't thinking it, I just thought you'd want to get to the end of this post.

When it rains, it pours down sewerage

I think it's pretty fair to say that not many people like bad news. In fact, the only people I can think that would like bad news are those who will benefit from others misfortune.

Yesterday we were given bad news.

My daughter has what's called a duplex left kidney. Basically she has two urethra's from her left kidney (you are only meant to have one) and one of those urethras is refluxing urine from her bladder back into her kidney.

This, we already knew.

She has been on antibiotics every day since she was 3 months old to help prevent an infection (she had a pretty bad one when she was 3 months old). Yesterday, we went to see the kidney specialist because her left kidney isn't functioning 100%. We weren't expecting much. When she was first diagnosed, we were told that often these things repair themselves and it's not a big concern.

So it came as a surprise when we were told she needed more invasive testing and surgery to repair the blockage was on the cards.

Hold on, rewind please. What did you just say?

Meanwhile, my daughter is wriggling about in my arms, unsettled with two rosy red cheeks from a week on unrelenting hard core teething. More tests.

So I'm exhausted after several sleepless nights, being handed bad news on an expensive platter and I think, it's okay, we can deal with this. We have to deal with this. It's better to get to the bottom of this then to cross our fingers and hope she doesn't get another infection.

So we go home. We process. I cry from sheer frustration and then we go to bed.

I wake up to the hubster calling me, it's 8:15am. My little human alarm clock hasn't woken me up. I lay there thinking maybe she's catching up on all the sleep she's missed out on the past few days and nights. And then I realise, something is wrong.

I enter her room and wake, yes, wake her up. I give her a cuddle and notice there's something wrong with her hand.

It's covered in pimples.

So are her legs.

I ring the fully booked out doctors surgery to make an appointment so the Good Doctor can confirm my suspicions, it's Hand, Foot and Mouth.

Crap.

When it rains, it really pours down sewerage!

Stolen from here

You need to be fingerprinted to read this post

I am 27 years old, I'm not old yet!

We've still got it!
Stolen from here

My parents complain they are old. They are not old yet.

My grandparents (who are either in their 80's or nearing them) tell me that they are old, I simply tell them they are not old, just older than they were last year.

I don't believe in old.

But on Saturday Night, I felt old.*

The Hubster and I were attending some friends Housewarming/Birthday Party where we got talking to some of the younger guests. These guys were in their early to mid 20's. Now the Hubster and I might act like an old married couple most of the time, but we liked to think we could still get down and party like everyone else, every now and then when the stars align and we find a babysitter.

We soon learned we no longer had our finger on the pulse.

Did you know...
You need to be fingerprinted to get into a lot of clubs these days
Your license is also scanned
Clubs in Western Sydney are charging $30 cover charges for the honour of waiting in line for eternity, spending up to half an hour getting fingerprinted, scanned, poked and prodded before being allowed entry to the club where you can then spend another eternity waiting in line at the bar where one round of drinks costs you half your weekly pay cheque.
People still do this anyway
And it's not just clubs, some pubs are doing it too

One of the ladies (who was closer to 40 than 30) who joined in the conversation said she had to sweet talk the security guard to let her in because she'd forgotten her license and he wouldn't let anyone in without their license being scanned. SHE WAS GOING INTO A PUB PEOPLE!

My daughter is 10 months old. Surely the 18 months I've been away from the 'going out' scene hasn't aged me so greatly here I was blaming it on my daughter, it appears it's society's fault!


Now I used to party better than most. It took me 5 years to get my degree and I made the most of all those years living on a uni campus and drinking my nights away. Hangovers were for the weak and meble. We drank until our livers begged us to stop and then we had another drink.

Sunnyvale Wine,
$10.99 a carton!
Image from here

We managed to turn anything into a drinking game. We spent our hard earned cash on Sunnyvale Dry White mixed with some solo or drunk in a Goon Sunrise. Many a night ended because the sun was rising and we had to sober up and get to class in a number of hours.

We witnessed the occasional bar fight, every now and then one of our party would be asked to leave because they were a little too intoxicated, so, like responsible adults, we'd take our stumbling friend home, make sure there was someone to keep an eye on them and head back out into the great night. We were conscious of drink spiking, we stuck together and we didn't make trouble.

And yet, just a few years later, people are being fingerprinted to get into clubs and pubs.

What happened in those few short years? Did you know about the hoops you need to jump through to purchase and drink anything in a licensed venue?

Don't get me wrong, obviously these cautions are needed, so I'm not having a digg at them, I'm confused about HOW we got to a place where these systems are required and I'm feeling really bloody old and out of the loop for my lack of knowledge regarding them!

*This had nothing to do with the fact that we left the party at 9pm,  before the jello shots came out, taking care of a 10 month old while in the throes of a hangover sucks, period.

Have you found yourself doing the 'back in my day' speech and felt old too?

Gimme Gimme Gimme, Airline Advice Please!

The beautiful Mrs B is going to have a baby at the end of this month/the beginning of next month. As she now lives in Perth, I have to travel a little bit further than our standard one or two motorways so I can soak up the glorious newborn smell. And spend some time with my future son-in-law (Missy Moo and Mrs B's first born, Captain Destructive, have been betrothed since she was in the womb).

Mr Hat has given the green light to our cross country adventure on one condition, that he doesn't have to go, which suits me just fine thank you very much. One less person to steal the baby off me.

Apparently he's even been looking up flights, but he suggested I ask all of you lovely ladies if you had any advice on which airline I should take?

Gorgeous pic pinched
from here

Do I pay that bit more and go Qantas or book one of the cheapies on Jet Star? I already know the difference between service as a travelling adult, but how does this translate when I'm with a *eeek* one year old all by myself?

I know Perth are pretty strict on fruit and veg entering the state but does this go for other foods/snacks?

Any tips on what I can buy her for her soon to be newest son? Keeping in mind she already has everything she needs and thanks to a super awesome Mr B, pretty much everything in the want list too.

I got floored

Back when it was just the Mister and me, there was a lot less mess. Or maybe I just didn't notice it as much because I didn't have a 10 month old baby crawling around picking up everything and putting it in their mouth.

I don't mind picking up toys and putting them away fifteen million six hundred thousand and forty-two times a day, no worries. Nor do I mind the extra dishes to clean, nor the extra clothes to wash and hang out, no problem.

But feeling the need to vacuum the floor every damn day*, I'm over it!

Maybe I'm just frustrated because we are going through that stage where we like to drop things on the floor so Mummy can pick them up, and this can get kinda messy with toast and biscuits and pikelets and those fruit stick things which get awfully sticky after being subject to a mouth full of saliva.

Or maybe I just really hate vacuuming. Yeah, I think it's that one.

And then I go to my paid job and have to vacuum there as well. Woe is me!

On a brighter note, maybe I can pay Mr Hat to vacuum every day this week with all of the wonderful mulla that's coming my way from working 6 FREAKIN' DAYS STRAIGHT! Or maybe I should just shut my mouth and be grateful the house and baby weren't in a worse state of repair than when I'm the primary home maker. Thank you Mr Hat, the kitchen was sparkling.

Okay so I know he's not vacuuming but I really liked the image!
Image Credit found here

*This may not mean that the floor actually gets vacuumed every day, just that, you know, I feel like it needs to be vacuumed.

What chore do you loathe doing?

Somewhere Over the BS

I’ve lost the will to fight. Or the urge, I can’t decide which.

There have been times this year, last year, three years ago, that shit has hit the fan, but I’ve just left it there to stick.

No longer bothered willing to defend my name, whether guilty or innocent, I’ve just left it there to slowly drip down as people continue to talk and I continue to stay quiet. Because I’m not there anymore, I’ve walked away from their crap.

If you can’t confront me about it, I won’t tell you my side of the story. So feel free to listen to the Drama Queen who wants to shout out his or her disdain from the rooftops, because I’m not going to bother to shout over anyone.

I just don’t care enough.

And if you can’t be bothered to ask me for my side of the story, if you’d rather get involved with the drama and the bitching, I’d rather not be involved with you.

My girlfriend, the stunning Mrs B and I have a saying…

People are Stupid.

You’ve just been lumped into this category. Enjoy.

Have you ever just had enough of people’s crap? Ever just get so over it you couldn’t be bothered to defend your honour?

The Awesome Post

Lately I've been in a bit of a funk, a two month long bad mood. My housework has been neglected until my OCD kicks in for much longer periods of time than normal, I've barely shopped online except for these and these and four pairs of these which I picked up less than half price at an online sale. I haven't even been trolling ebay for needless stuff.

And then I read this post by the lovely Kirrily of Sunny Side Up. I realised I'd been wasting so much energy being in a bad mood. For months now, I've wanted to pack up and move. I've been craving a fresh start but my husbands job is here, and it's a family business, so we're a little more committed then we would be to another job.

Feeling like I'm trapped was eating me up and spitting me out again. I've watched my close friends close old chapters and start new ones in their lives. I've been jealous. Envious. That Green Eyed Monster really is a son of a bitch pain in the backside.

But what have I done about my life? Not a lot. In some areas, there has been no lack of trying, there are things that are out of my control and I have to accept that, but generally, I've allowed my funk to take over and have done little to stop it.

I've been so blinded by my bad mood I forgot that I have choices too. They may not always be choices that I like, but I still have choices.

Missy Moo goes to daycare on Fridays. I usually spend the day reading blogs running around doing all those jobs that are easier to do when child free. But this Friday, I'm going to sit down and plan for the future so I have a light to guide me through this fog.

The funk stops here. I'm going to take a page out of Barney's book (if you're viewing this via email subscription or in a reader, you'll have to pop on over to my blog to see this AWESOME clip)

What do you do to get out of a funk?

When you don't have to but you kinda really do

My daughter was Baptised last Sunday. It was beautiful.
She was so well behaved for the entire ceremony I kept wondering who was this tame little girl and what did she do with my loud dadda screeching hand clapping aye aye aye aying babbling daughter.

We kept the ceremony and celebration afterwards to our siblings, parents, grandparents and Missy Moo's Godparents, because, well, that  made us a party of 30 and that's enough people to feed thank you very much.

As soon as we got back to our place, my FIL was found to be in possession of my daughter and an hour later, still had not released the child to another family member, much to the disgust unhappiness of many. Mr Hat finally took Missy Moo so she could play with the other kids "She's not interested in playing with them" could be heard from the FIL.

Ah huh.

Anyway, as she was left to play with the other kids for a couple of hours, by the time everyone sat down to eat, we fed the guest of honour and put her to bed where she slept peacefully for a full two hours while kids ran up and down the hall screaming. I had to go in there and check she was still alive I couldn't believe she was sleeping through all of the commotion!

And then our guests left.

And she was still sleeping.

And nobody else had had much of a cuddle.

So the other day I was complaining to a girlfriend that I had to chauffeur my daughter around to dish out cuddle debts not paid on Sunday, and she said, 'you know you don't have to do that'. To which I replied 'you know in theory it looks like I have a choice, but the consequences of them not seeing Missy Moo are quite painful, so I really kinda do'.

Image credit here

Don't get me wrong, I DO have a choice, and I'm simply choosing the lesser of two evils here. I don't have to, but I really kinda do have to spend time taking her to see her fans so they can dote on her and look at her with the biased loving eyes of another relative. Because they seem to be addicted to her. And when an addict doesn't get their fix, havoc prevails!

How have you dealt with a child 'in demand'? Any tips?
I've been hinting to them all that if they want their fix they have to come to her kingdom, but we always end up in the car, visiting them again. I love that they adore her so much but I often feel like I'm just there to bring the baby!

The Pregnancy Bug

It seems to me, that at this very moment in time, I know A LOT of pregnant people.

But I think I'm only noticing that there are a lot of pregnant people because I want to be pregnant, and I'm not.

And then I look at my daughter, and I think, if I never had another child I would still be the happiest woman alive because I have her.

But still, this month will be the sixth month of trying and I'm getting a little depressed disheartened.

And I know, six months is not a long time. I know about the IVF and the years of trying without luck and I know six months is but a blip compared to so many.

But that blip is my heart breaking every darn month when the test is negative and I spend 3 days convincing myself I don't need to do another test, only to do another 'just to be sure' and break my heart all over again.

And then I grieve. For the life I had planned that is changing more and more each month. Doesn't my body know I'm a control freak and I don't like all this unknown?

Four pregnancies. One baby. I want to be pregnant again but then I wonder, will a forth miscarriage break me? Maybe I'm not pregnant because I'm not ready to loose another?

The disappointment I feel at my body is only second to the disappointment I feel with myself. I should have started taking the vitamins sooner, not had that glass of wine with dinner. Do I do these things so I can blame myself when I don't fall pregnant, or when I loose another baby?

And then I look at her again and realise I've got nothing to be upset about. Because even if we can't do it again (even if we can), I've got my little girl. My favourite person in the whole wide world (with Mr Hat of course). She makes it all okay with a smile, a laugh, a tantrum that makes me sigh and say to Mr Hat, 'do we really want another one?'

I'm not done yet. I want more children. I don't want to stop until I feel done. So there must be more coming. They'll just arrive when they're ready. Certainly not on my schedule. And in the mean time, I'll soak up every second with the brat, my gorgeous girl, and remind myself how much I hated being pregnant and how little sleep you get with a newborn around!

How did/do you know how many kids you want/wanted?

I'm not really into self promotion much but if you do get a second, can you please pop over here to Kleenex Mum's "So you think you can blog" competition and give me a like? Thanks a bunch in advance! And have a great weekend guys! I've got Missy Moo's Baptism this weekend so wish me luck! x

Dear 16 year old me

Please watch and share...



Thanks for sharing Lucy.

Wordless Wednesday - Cheese Heaven

Mmmm, where's the wine..

Just a Mum

When I was pregnant I couldn't imagine not returning to work. I was certain I would need more stimulation than being 'just a mum' would provide. So it really caught me by surprise when I found myself not wanting to go back to work.

You see after becoming a mum I realised there is no such thing as 'just a mum'.

I am a cook, a cleaner, a maid. I'm the Queen of the Calendar, the Goddess of the Washing, the Princess of Puke Cleaning. I am the sewing machine maid, the driveway sweeping saviour, the lawn mowing maiden. I organise, I plan, I execute with precision. I budget, I juggle, I perform with such attention to detail that bad surprises almost never occur. I assemble, I scrub, I search for the perfect item, all while adding to the never ending to do list in my head and mentally ticking off what I've already completed.

And I love. I love with a passion that is so fierce it could light up the whole world.
And I feel. When my child is hurt, I can guarantee that I am hurting more. My heart breaks, and unlike my baby, who will soon forget her pain, it stays with me, forever.

Since becoming 'just a mum', I have completely organised our home, I spend several hours each day reading articles on The Punch, Crikey and Mamamia, along with an ever growing number of mummy blogs. I learnt how to sew, paint, put furniture together, and assemble kids toys (you do need a rocket science degree to figure those out).

Since becoming 'just a mum' I have spent time with ageing family instead of wishing I could but being too busy to, I have spent time with my husband that doesn't involve venting about my stressful day at the office but enjoying his company. Since becoming 'just a mum' I have renegotiated he interest rate on our home loan after writing to the CEO of our bank and posting it on this blog.

There is no such things a 'just a mum' or 'just a dad'. Not in this home. So next time someone asks me what I do for a living, I'll be sure to tell them I'm the Managing Director of a small company specialising in tonnes of fun,  devoted love and bucket loads of laughter.

Oh, and because I'm just like mostly everybody else, I did end up finding paid employment again but this time as a part-time pharmacy assistant. Life is expensive and one income isn't quite enough to keep us plodding along!

How do you feel about the phrase 'just a mum'? If you're a SAHM, how do you respond when someone asks you what you do?

Walking the Walk

As a new Mum, I received more advice than I could filter on such limited sleep. I listened, I picked and chose what I would consider and I discarded some that I thought unsuitable for our situation.

My daughter was not a good sleeper. She was a sleep fighter. She'd often lull her father and I into a false sense of security and then BAM, just as we thought we had won, she let us know the fight was not over.

Being first time parents, when asked how our little bundle of joy was sleeping, we forgot to lie or thought people could tell we were lying anyway just from looking at us.

The most common 'advice' people gave to us was to let the baby 'just cry it out'.

I was determined to try everything else first before resorting to this tactic. Luckily, Missy Moo is like her mother and found that a firm routine was all she needed to provide her with a sense of security and allow her to sleep.

But Missy Moo is not silly, she knows when she can pull the wool over someone's eyes, particularly if those eyes are the adoring eyes of her grandparents.

Let me paint a picture for you, it is of my father in law. Shaved head, goatee, intimidating, stern look on face, not exactly brimming with warm and fuzzies. As a father of four, he dispensed parenting advice to his son, the advice being, 'just let her cry it out son'.

Fast forward 8 months and he and his wife have taken Missy Moo for the afternoon, which includes 1 nap. Missy Moo is put down, she fusses a little, has a bit of a cry, and my father in law sits there in his chair, agitated. This is the man that has to have the television volume so loud I feel like I have to yell to have a conversation, when I'm in the next room. And yet he can hear his grand daughter fussing.

"Go and get her, stop her crying" he barks at his wife, unable to handle his grand daughter whinging. Let me be clear, there was no yelling, no screaming, no loud wails of desperation coming from my daughter, just Missy Moo, testing her grand parents limits.

Missy Moo 1, grandparents 0.

I'm really looking forward to the piles of advice I receive when I have baby number two, I think my new tactic will be "great idea, how about YOU come over and implement this strategy".

Don't talk the talk if you can't walk the walk peoples!

It must be said however, that it does melt my heart watching my FIL turn into a soft teddy bear when my daughter is around, she is really lucky to be so loved by so many. Plus, it's kind of cute that my FIL can't handle my daughter being upset, even if it did result in Missy Moo being cuddled to sleep that day which meant she spent the next two days protesting nap time because she wanted to be cuddled to sleep for every sleep thereafter!

What advice (parenting or otherwise) have you received that made you cringe?

Wordless Wednesday - Fun with Friends

Toddlers & Tiaras

There has been a bit of talk lately about the Children's Beauty Pageant that is heading to Australia. Most of the talk has been quite negative.

I have a deep respect for my daughter. And a desire to ensure my little girl gets to BE a little girl, for as long as she can be. You can be a grown up for the rest of your life. You can only be a kid and get away with acting like one for so long.

When she gets to those teenage years where she wants to start wearing make-up and choosing her attire, I hope I will be successful in teaching her to emphasise her best features without getting her skank on dressing inappropriately.

When I saw this video I had to laugh, and share it with you.
Just another reason why I love Tom Hanks, and Ron Howard!

What do you think about Beauty Pageants?

Wordless Wednesday - Happy Little Vegemite

Advice Required, please help me to help a friend!

I love lovers, almost as much as I love babies.
And I reeaally love babies. I'd have 12 if I could have them without being pregnant.

Mmmm, I love the smell of a sweet sweet baby...
Image Credit here

Anyway, I digress, I love lovers. They make my heart skip a beat, I get all gooey and warm and fuzzy when I see a couple really in love. Maybe it's because Mr Hat is such a top bloke who still gives me butterflies and treats me like his Queen. He would, in fact, be the perfect man if his wife were not such a hormonal, moody witch.

But being the gooey lovey dovey couple that prefer to stay in and have dinner with friends than go out and about around town, we are not so good at helping single friends to meet other single folk so they can join the Gooey Lovey Dovey (GLD) Club.

I am referring to friends who are looking for partners, not those who are happy being single.

I currently have three friends who are looking for love, and I feel at a loss to help them. I feel too old to 'hit' the clubbing scene and to be honest, I am ready for bed by 10pm most nights anyway. The problem is, ALL of our friends are in the same position! We have one friend who is in a newby relationship so he's been going out 'on the prowl' with one friend but I feel like we all need to step up to the plate and accompany our friends to the places they like to go to meet people. Oh, and these friends of mine all know each other but are not interested in hanging out together, they belong to different 'groups' and seem to have conflicting personalities (and they each challenge me in different ways which I appreciate!)

I don't want my single friends to feel as though they are being pitied because that is not what this is about. They are all awesome people who've been unlucky in love. They just haven't met their 'forever' partners yet, and I'm much happier that they are single than settled with partners just because they are scared to be alone. 

So here's my question, what have you done to help out a single sister or brother in the dating world? How do you help your single friends to meet other single people? Would you recommend online dating? One of my friends has tried it and only meet unsavoury characters who were only interested in getting her between the sheets. Are there any 'safer' sites you recommend?