Day 390

WE ARE AT NATIONALS. DONE THE WHOLE PARTNER STUNT AND GROUP STUNT THING THIS MORNING. LOADS OF NERVES AND WADS OF EXCITEMENT. HUGE COMP. THE KIDS ARE PERFORMING BEAUTIFULLY THOUGH. MY TAHLIA'S TEAM DID AN AWESOME JOB. SO RELIEVED FOR THEM.  HOPEFULLY ALL THE NERVES AND SHOCK WILL BE GONE BY TOMORROW'S POMS AND CHEER ROUTINES. JUST HANGING AROUND NOW FOR OUR SQUAD PRACTICE SESSION. WAITING. WAITING. WAITING.

Day 389

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness; it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity; it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness; it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us...." 


Thank you Mr Dickens.  Oh how I hated that book.  At the age of 15 I never did get past that first paragraph but as I re-read it now it actually makes all the sense in the world.  Age can do that to you.  A pleasant by-product of being deep fried.  


Now let's switch from Charles Dicky Bird to Hugh John Lofting, and I am here to tell you I feel a whole lot like Mr Lofting's two headed Llama.  Dr Doolittle may have found the push-me-pull-me appealing but I am finding the head battle a little confusing.  In true push-me-pull-me style I am relating to Charles' opening paragraph more than I should be. 


What the hell am I talking about? Nationals of course.  Come on .... get with the program people.


Here I am as a cheer coach taking twenty two 11 and 12 year olds to the Australian Cheerleading Championships this weekend and I am wondering what the hell I have gotten myself into.  The best decision or the worst decision?  Wise or foolish? Well, given it is CHEERleading I've gotta go with best of times and the age of wisdom, but my emotions are in turmoil.  


I feel excited, yet anxious, joyous, yet fearful, hopeful, yet nervous, proud, yet doubtful.  Come on.  Let's just cut to the chase shall we. I'm freakin' shittin' myself.  These kids have never performed these routines at comp before and we're expecting them to get it perfect at nationals?  What were we thinking?!!!  It took them six months to perfect their original state comp routines and we've thrown these new ones at them to learn and perfect in only 6 weeks (well, 3 weeks for pomsj). Shit, shit, shit!!! Can someone get me a paper bag .... I need a paper bag .... am sitting on haunches rocking in corner ... breathe .... breathe .... breathe ....


I wonder how the poor girls are feeling?


I can tell you how they are feeling.  They have nothing but pure excitement and adrenalin running through their veins.  They have complete and utter belief in themselves.  They have complete and utter belief in their coaches.  They have no doubt that they are the best that they can be.  And why are they feeling this way?  Because that's how they bloody should be feeling.  That's what we've been telling them.  That's just the way it is and I need to shake my fear, shake my nerves, shake my doubt and take a great big dose of my own advice.  Plus a teaspoon of rescue remedy and an enormous dose of Nervatona. 


This weekend is about to be one of the most memorable weekends of our lives.  The weekend we made it to the Australian Championships.  The weekend where we get to say that we're one of the best primary school cheer teams in all of the country.  We don't have to be the best there is, just the best that we can be.  No matter what the result we are there!!  That makes us winners already.


Yep, a huge dose of my own advice.


Righteo then. Now that that's sorted I've got an 8 hour drive to Melbourne to make.


And a bit of dancing around the lounge room to do before I go.  Woot Woot.


We are going to Nationals! We are going to Nationals!! Cha cha cha cha cha CHA.


You won't be hearing much from me over the next few days. Just the occasional bit of news SHOUTED via my Nokia.  


Have a great weekend everyone, and enjoy your blog flogging.

Day 388

Ok, so maybe they're not chin hairs, they're just stray eyebrows.  Either way, we need to take control of the situation.  So today I'm off to the beautician for my tinting, waxing and plucking.  The usual.  Dye some eyebrows in, and take some eyebrows out.  Dye some lashes in, and take some chin hairs out.  And down at the "stirruped end" (refer to yesterday's post) we just take some of the bastards out.  Notice I said "some".  Not doing this bald Brazilian rubbish.

Day 387

Huh. You know you've been blogging too long when your "annual appointment" comes up and you can refer to your blog post of the previous year.  

Yesterday was my annual trip to the gyno. Not something to look forward to, but necessary. This year's experience was quite a bit different to last year's though. 

For a start, he didn't mention my tattoo which is the normal topic of conversation.  

And this time he kinda spent a really long time doing what he had to do.  

Plus he even answered two mobile phone calls while he was "down there" which was a bit disconcerting. (Watching him have a conversation with a random at the stirruped end of the bed and all that. Glad video calls aren't the norm yet.) 

Oh, and this year it was all on TV!!  Yep, I got to see what he could see via a little camera on those big metal thingimy doobs that allow him access.  I'm not sure if that was weird or amazing.  A journey through my "hoo-hoo" into my "which-what". Can't say I've ever been on that adventure before ....  I even got to see a bit of the "do-dad" I had put in earlier this year.

As usual, this year we had to do a special test while he was prodding around.  I don't think I have mentioned this before but I have a special test done for a more obscure form of cervical cancer as I am classed as "daughter of DES".  Nothing major. Just precautionary.  When Mum was pregnant with me she took a very short course of medication (DES) to prevent miscarriage which is now linked with this cancer in daughters of DES recipients that can't be detected in a normal smear.  Anyway, I had that done.  All good.

But what makes this year really different than previous years is that this year he took a biopsy.  He found something a little odd.  I saw its oddness on the TV.  Yeah, it looked a bit funny.  I suggested it was probably just one of my tonsils.  He was probing pretty high.  Yep, he agreed.  Probably just my tonsil.  He told me not to worry.  So I'm not.  Results will be back next week.  

So there you have it.  Another "annual appointment" done and dusted.   

Another glorious by-product of being Deep Fried Fruit.

 

Day 386

I'm going for the plain Jane approach to my day.  I am drinking from a plain white coffee mug, I am wearing a plain grey top, plain black pants, plain black boots, and my hair is in a plain ol' pony tail.  Not sure why I am being plain old me without any bells and whistles.  Just seems like the right day for it.

The definition of Plain Jane is basically a woman who is dull, colourless and boring.  Apparently the first Plain Jane was Jane Eyre. I don't really remember the story of Jane Eyre.  Was she dull, colourless and boring?  She's far too well known to be a Plain Jane.  How can you be plain and famous.  No really, is it possible?  Because plain brings with it the idea of anonymity.

And why have I chosen today to be dull colourless and boring.  Does it have something to do with the man berries in my throat?  Perhaps it has something to do with my inflamed sinus?  Could have something to do with the lethargy.  Nah, none of that actually.  I quite simply feel like having a "blending into the background" kind of day.  That's all ....

So that's it.  That's me in a plain old nutshell today.  Blending.  Dull.  Boring. Ordinary.

Plain.

Day 385

You have got to be kidding me!!!

What have I done to deserve this prolonged unwellness?  (Is unwellness a word?)

I have woken up with swollen glands, continued nausea, total lethargy, and aches.

This is starting to suck ...

OK, then.  Suck it is.

SUCK IT UP PRINCESS!!!!

Too much to do this week to be laying about continually feeling the size of the testicles in my neck.  We've got Nationals to get ship shape for.

Bring it on .....

Day 384

Do you remember those old stories told by parents or grandparents.  They'd start with "when I was a kid" and usually included something like "I had to walk ten miles to school .... bare foot .... in the snow".

Well, I'm here to tell you it really isn't that bad. I'm not sure what all the fuss was about. I had a dream last night that I was walking bare foot .... in the snow .... up a mountain .... in the dark. And  I distinctly remember thinking the severity of those stories was bogus.  My feet weren't cold at all ....

Day 383

After I left you yesterday things got progressively worse.  The ghost of Jim kept bouncing around my gut and the dude on my head just wouldn't bugger off.  While it seemed evident I had a hangover I couldn't understand why it was so severe.  I hadn't drank that much, unless wearing Jim Beam pyjamas really does double the effect.  So anyway, I decided to take drastic action and I took to the effervescence.  When the ghost of Jim turns into a ball in your stomach there is only one thing to do. Burp like a bitch.  So I went to the fridge and took out the black doctor in the red ambulance and chugged that sucker down.  Coke has amazing medicinal qualities.  Then I went to the comfort of my bedroom and burped like the strapping young country lass you all know secretly lives inside me.  It worked a treat.  The ball of gas just took flight and the ghost of Jim went with it.  Hell, I even started burping the alphabet.  It was all very musical and quite delightful if the truth be know.  But then something happened.  Getting Demon Jim out seemed to unleash a new monster.   My final burp brought with it the unthinkable .... the after grog follow through. Yep, I threw up.  Shocking.  Now I really did feel like shit.  And instead of getting better, it got worse.  Luckily I had Mum with me all day who took to the house cleaning and the washing while I wallowed in self pity.  There was a point where Mum and I decided that it wasn't a hangover at all, and that perhaps it was a virus.  You know how when you are hungover, all you want to do is eat? Blotting paper my dad calls it.  Something to soak up the liquid within. Well, I didn't want to eat at all.  The nausea was getting worse and worse and eating was the furthest thing from my mind.  I even went and bought a steak sandwich which is usually a cure all, but nope, I could only manage 3 bites.  Anyway, as I said there was a point where we decided I had a virus. At what point was that? Um, right about the time Mum and I were driving home from having lunch at the school and my nausea hit again. Uncontrollable.  As I was the driver, this wasn't a good thing.  The vomiting began. Violent.  What does someone driving a car do when they start to chunder?  There is nothing you can do.  I threw up all over myself over and over and over again while keeping one eye on the road. It was HORRENDOUS.  I started to cry. I was screaming "help me" and Mum was doing her best to mop as I went.  We pulled over.  I was covered.  And that right there is the point in which we decided this was so much more than a hangover.  It had to be a bigger demon that Jim ...

The rest of the day was spent in bed with a bucket beside me.  And whether he actually caused it or not, Jim Beam is still a bastard ...

PS I am still feeling a bit under the weather.  Jim may well of put that man on my head, and dirty socks in my mouth, but I am really thinking he may not be the TOTAL bastard I thought he was.  We just went up to the shops and I was overcome with waves of nausea again. Plus I feel dizzy and weak. Not even a freshly cooked BBQ chook can shake me from my no-food-funk. I think there is something else lurking in the depths of my being that Jim may well have dislodged during the burping exorcism yesterday. What do you think? 

Day 382

A funny thing happened as I woke up this morning. I could have sworn someone was sitting on my head with their feet stuffed in my mouth.  Reality hit around 30 seconds later as I realised the heavy head and socks-in-mouth syndrome was actually a hangover.  I really must stop wearing my Jim Beam pyjamas to bed.  I might stop drinking the stuff while I'm at it .... it makes for a very dusty morning.

Anyway, I didn't have time to dwell on the unfairness of hangovers or the fact that I had self inflicted yet another headache on this weary body.  I had to drag my heavy head out of bed and get the day underway. 

Chaos ensued immediately.  It all began when we couldn't find clothes for the kids to wear to their 1800's day at school. They've got a Mary Mackillop sainthood celebration and while we knew in theory what they would be wearing, we couldn't quite find all the bits and bobs ... which put Mummy in a very foul mood.  The socks in the mouth thing can make you a tad cranky.  Then in the middle of it all, the computer doctor arrived (at 8.00am) to bring back my electronic appendage.  I think I was supposed to be listening to him as he ran through all the issues, but the person sitting under the towel on my head was making it hard to hear.  Shit. I've still got a towel on my head?  Haven't even done my hair yet.  Then the handyman arrived to finish painting my lounge room. Shit again.  I hadn't even thought about moving the lounges and coffee tables.  So while I was trying to tackle that, Derek was asking me if I'd done the admin work he needed me to do before he went to work. Nope, haven't done that.  So I started on that. But that went by the wayside when I realised I hadn't yet made the kids lunches and they were being picked up in 5 minutes.  FFS.  So I started on that. Then my Mum arrived. I swear to God I felt like I was in one of those Yellow Pages ads where all hell is breaking loose and every man and his dog is standing in the middle of the lounge room scratching their heads surrounded by chaos. Now let's add the parcel delivery person to the equation and me thundering down the stairs to sign for Derek's box of comics ....

At some point (I think it was when Mum very kindly started vacuuming around where the lounge had been in preparation for the painter) I marched back into my bedroom, climbed under the covers, and started my day again. I actually closed my eyes, faked sleep for a few minutes, took lots of deep breaths, opened them again, and started my day fresh.

Then I went into the bathroom, removed the towel, did my hair and make up, and walked back out to the fabulous folk who were working away at their little bits and pieces. Let's start again shall we! And that's what we did ... and it worked a treat ...

But there is one thing that I can't erase .... that little prick is still sitting on my head and my mouth is still full of dirty socks ... Jim Beam is an absolute bastard!!!


Tis Friday. Time to do some blog flogging ...

Day 381

Ok, that’s it. I’ve cracked it. I’ve got the shits big time. Remember how I was all negative last week because the dog died, the cleaner broke up with me, my client cancelled yada yada yada …. And then I got all positive and gave myself a right royal kick up the bum. Well the bum kicking worked a treat until today when I decided to make use of my robotic vacuum cleaner to kind of get this cleaning gig started and the bastard up and died on me. Why is everyone buggering off on me right now? Seriously. I want to know why the big “run a mile from Leanne” thing is going on. It can’t possibly have anything to do with the energy I am projecting can it? Not me. Not Leanne of the sunny disposition.

Oh, not so sunny right now? Hmmmm ….

Anyway, I’ve just cracked it big time. Roomba the prick has bailed on me at a moment of need. So with very stompy footsteps, a mild door slam and a great sense of purpose I took to the depths of the recycle bin and got knee deep in trash in order to find the community newspaper. I’ve had enough. I’m getting a bloody cleaner and that’s all there is to it.

Oh, and look, right next to “cleaner” is “concreter”. Might as well get the front yard landscaped while I’m at it ….

Day 380

It's Wednesday. That means room inspection day.

Yeah, this is Deep Fried Fruit. You haven't accidentally stumbled across a militant site. And no, I'm not a control freak ... really I'm not. I just like to have a bit of order ....

A few months ago when I was suffering pretty severely from the fuckity fuckits I re-instated the kids chores lists. We had them in place earlier in the year where the kids had to do things like put toys away, feed the dogs, hang up their towels, unpack their school bags etc ... standard stuff ... and they would get ticks on a chart each day and earn 20 cents per tick. Except for "helping Mummy without being asked" which earned them a dollar. It was working well ... for about a month .... and then it took a fair bit of maintenance. Anyway, it was enough to set the scene and establish a mindset for the kids to be more active around the home.

A few months ago while I was trying to juggle all my hats I realised that mornings were the most chaotic for me (which is why the whole exercise caper has gone by the way-side ... well that, and because I got all tired and lazy) so I recruited the kids to assist. They are now responsible for getting the house looking aesthetically ship-shape so that when we leave it in the morning I am comfortable in the knowledge that it will be pleasing to the eye on our return. So each morning they have a little ritual each: Tahlia's is to open all the curtains and blinds around the house, turn off all the lights, put all the cushions neatly along the lounge, and fold up the couch blankies from the night before. Darby's course of action is to check to see that all the toilets are flushed and the lids are down (middle of the night monsters tend to visit and leave yellow surprises in the loo), position all the photos nicely in the family room, clean up the coffee tables and put all the remotes in their holder. They both then take it in turns tending to Max the hip gyrating Lab. It's amazing how much this little bit of assistance enhances my spirit.

Anyway, they get paid $5 a week each, which is given to them on a Saturday, for helping me out daily. HOWEVER, they only get that money IF they have also passed bedroom inspection on Wednesday's and Saturday's. They earn ... but it can also be taken away. Yeah, I'm a sucky boss ...

I am trying my best to breed tidy wideys. To date it has eluded me ... there seems to be a gene in there somewhere (especially in my tweenie girl) that rejoices in bedroom bombs. So today is room inspection day. It's the day I can walk into their rooms without falling over toys or climbing over garment mountains. Today is the day I get to breathe easy because I know that I will get sparkly surprise.

Yep, today is Wednesday. Room inspection day. Have you passed yours?

Day 379

There's an interesting by-product which comes out of working at the school with other people's kids. You get to see the full spectrum of learning abilities. Now that I am in the year one classrooms I can see just where the curriculum is up to and what I could probably expect Darbs to be learning. I quickly realised that his reading and writing is not quite up to speed.

Mild panic.

Another interesting by-product to working at the school is that I have instant access to the teacher's and the learning support staff. So I had a chat to his teacher and, as we already knew, the Darbster has a little trouble staying on task. Well, to be honest, he is kind of known for wandering around the room and finding anything else to focus on other than his work. He also went through a period this year of being the class clown. Both were nipped in the bud early a few months back once we identified the issues. But this whole keeping on task is still a bit of a challenge. For example he was rarely finishing his work sheets ... which is interesting because he is very clever and can tell you all the answers. He has full comprehension and remembers facts and figures easily.

Now let's back track a bit further. In term one I sought the advice of an education consultant and between us we devised some "attention" exercises to help expand his attention span. We would sit down each night for half an hour and map out home learning into five minute blocks. He had to stay on task for the full five minutes (no fiddling, shuffling, toilet, drink) and he would get a sticker on his chart. At the end of the thirty minute session (and with six stickers) he could dive into the lucky dip barrel and pull out a prize (bubble gum, an eraser, a highlighter pen, a bouncy ball). After a term of that it seemed to work. But then the class clown arrived ....

Let me back track even further. Darby has battled with a few anxiety issues and kindergarten was a real challenge. He had low self esteem and had trouble integrating. An interesting conundrum for me as I am the positive psychology person who was completely baffled by the full confidence in one child, and complete lack in the other. That my dear friends is why I started writing the books. Anyway, he had anxieties. So this year he got through it a little easier, but with one minor glitch ... he found the best way to "fit in" was to be the class clown. So while we applauded that for a while (anything to make him feel good about himself) it quickly became evident that it was too disruptive. So again with the nipping in the bud. Lots of new strategies to keep him focused and to help him feel confident and safe.

Anyway, that brings us back to now. Anxieties are now minimal and the attention span is expanding. Big wins!! But still, he is a little off task and having trouble with his reading and writing. So as I said before I took advantage of the direct access and went to the learning support coordinator.

She is now on to it. She tested his reading and we are coming up with strategies to assist. She agreed he was very clever and had full comprehension. He is however having to work overtime on the whole reading caper. So she suggested I take our little man to a behavioural optometrist. Roger that. Never heard of a "behavioural" eye doctor. Didn't know eyes had behavioural problems. Anyway, off we went. And to cut this very looooooong story short, our boy is now wearing glasses. From the dyslexia etc side of things Darby seems to be doing ok. Nothing identified there. But from an eyesight point of view it seems his long distance vision (for white boards etc) is under stress which probably means he has less energy, focus and attention left to be on task with his up close work. Uh ha!! Makes sense. So he has just gone through his first week of being be-spectacled and it's working a treat.

So there you go. That's where things are up to with our little four eyed monster. And might I add he is loving it!! They are (by all account) dude glasses and he's very proud of them. It's not magically fixing the reading and writing bit, but it is having an instant impact on the other issues which means he may have more energy and more DESIRE to tackled the reading and writing.

Anyway, when it is all said and done we are very proud of the Darbster and the progress he is making at school. He's a kid with a HUGE heart and he's an absolute delight. Hopefully he'll now find things a little easier in the class room to ensure added comfort in his day.

Hope your day is full of delights and comforts too. Have a good one!

Day 378

Ok, enough with the yelling. I snaffled my husband's computer instead. My other appendage is due back at lunch time today.

I actually spent money on having a guy come to the house to fix my laptop so that this wouldn't happen. I didn't want to drop take my computer to the hospital. A bit of home therapy would do. But after spending 2 hours here the computer bloke ended up taking it with him anyway. So I kinda spent the money on a call out when we could have taken into a repair shop for half the price. My hubby is a tad shitty about that. Oh well. It happens ....

Soooo .... how's your mother's chooks?

Did your parents ever say that when you were a kid? It was a favourite expression of my Dad's. I guess it's kind of a favourite of mine too. Seems like a good thing to say when you've got nothin' else to say. I often say it to my bestie in PA "So, how's your mother's chooks?" She's used to it now, but in the beginning she was "what the?!" I had to try and explain, but quickly realised I couldn't. How do you explain a completely random bullshit phrase like "How's your mother's chooks?" Our chickens are fine, thankyou, and yours? We never had chickens. Not sure where the expression came from. I guess it was small talk from eons ago. I guess everyone had chooks so if yours weren't laying you might see if someone else's was. Perhaps. I actually asked Professor Google just now. He didn't know. Huh. I just found something to stuff Prof Goog. Fabulous. That makes for a good day.

Anywho, let's get on with the day. A day of working at the school, seeing a client, catching up with the computer surgeon, then an evening of Nationals cheer training. The rain (and snow) seems to have given us a break and I actually managed to get my towels and sheets in off the line yesterday. That was a huge bonus.

Need to run. Husband hovering. It seems his technical appendage is as important to him as mine is to me. And after all that chook talk, I'm feeling like eggs for breakfast. Apparently they don't cook themselves ....

Day 377

THERE HAS BEEN AN AMPUTATION. PART OF ME IS MISSING. I CAN FEEL THE TWITCH BUT THE LIMB IS NOT THERE. MY FINGERS WANT TO DO THEIR THING BUT THEY CAN'T. ITS GONE. I HAVE NO COMPUTER. MY LAPTOP IS IN HOSPITAL. RIDDLED WITH VIRUS. I DON'T MEAN TO YELL. HONESTLY. I KNOW IT SEEMS LIKE I AM SHOUTING AT YOU, BUT I DONT MEAN TO. IT'S MY PHONE. THE TRUSTY NOKIA N SERIES. WITH NO LAPTOP I AM CONFINED TO MY MOBILE. I DONT KNOW HOW TO TURN OFF THE CAPS LOCK WHEN IN MY BLOG SCREEN. AS THE REST OF MY FINGERS TWITCH IN ANTICIPATION AND FRUSTRATION, MY THUMBS ARE WORKING OVERTIME. MUST GET MY LAPTOP BACK. THE WORLD IS UPSIDE DOWN. MY BEING IS INCOMPLETE. AS A WRITER I AM AN AMPUTEE.

Day 376

It's snowing. Can you freakin' believe it? It's snowing!! It's the middle of spring and it's snowing. We don't get snow. This is not a snowing place. And here we are in the season of lambs, and flowers, and birds and blossoms, and it's snowing. Well, I think my Pennsylvanian friend would call it a flurry. Is that the technical term? There is snow falling to the ground which is melting immediately due to the rain.

And yes, my washing is still on the line ....

Happy Saturday everyone! I am off to take Darby to a birthday party, and then Derek and I are helping coordinate Tahlia's end of year calisthenics concert.

Ciao ciao ...

Day 375

Alright, I'll stop singing about loose wheels and get down to business. Yesterday's post was a tad negative. Yes, it happens. But today is a brand new day. I gave myself a pretty serious pep talk yesterday arvo. It went something like this:

So it's raining. We all know the sun is shining up there somewhere, you've just got to find it. The washing will dry eventually.

So you've got a headache. That's why God invented pain killers. Take an extra one just to be sure.

So you're cleaner quit. The vacuum is in the cupboard, use it. Besides, you own that robotic thing. Why the bitchin'?

So the dog died. That was last week. Move on.

Cheer Nationals are only two weeks away and you haven't finished the routine? You feel like the weight of the cheer world is resting on your shoulders? There is this wonderful thing called You Tube. Check it out. You might see something clever. And remember, a lack of resources is not the problem ... it's a lack of resourcefulness.

As for that sick husband, give him a cuddle, tell him you love him and then tell him to suck it up. He's a big strong boy.

If you've got tired kids then make them sleep! Take them to bed with you if you have to and cuddle them into unconsciousness. You might get some quality sleep yourself in the process.

As for that messy house refer to the vacuum suggestion above. Don't just look at it. Get up and bloody well do something about it. Start with your own pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom you slob.

When your client cancels whoop for joy because now you have a spare two hours you didn't have before to lay about and rest. Or to clean that messy house above ...

More hours working at school? Well, that might actually cover the cost of that cancelled client. Do the math. And stop your bloody complaining.

Your publisher is not missing in action. He is sitting up on 5th avenue NYC doing what he has to do. You're not his only client you know, and you're not even his most important. He will contact you when next steps are needed. Relax.

No food? Are you kidding me?? Talk to the people in Africa about there being no food. Perspective darling. And then take a little trip to the grocery store ... people do it everyday.

Chin hairs, muffin tops, saggy bums, and neck curtains are all a matter of the mind. Again with the whining!!!! Look lady, you are in control. Beauty is a mindset. Just change your thinking a bit and bloody well do something about it. Find those tweezers for a start ....

And as for feeling too tired to exercise, join the club. It will happen when you are ready for it to happen. In the meantime take advantage of the rain and cuddle up indoors. Your energy will return when your positive mindset does.

Are we done? Good. Now bloody well get on with it ...

While you're at it, might as well flog yo blog ...

Day 374

That dreaded migraine is still hanging around. My cleaner broke up with me. Nationals is only two weeks away and we have no poms routine. I finally got the towels and sheets washed and it decided to torrential rain for two days straight. My husband is sick. The dog died (you know that already). The kids are tired. The house is a mess. My client cancelled. The school has signed me on for more hours. My publisher is missing in action. There is no food in the house. My chin hairs have multiplied. My muffin top is growing. My arse is sagging. My neck curtains are flapping in the breeze. I am too exhausted to exercise. And I have bloggoblock.

You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille ....

If you came here for a pick me up, then you chose the wrong day!

Come back tomorrow.

And I might head back to Mildura to that country music festival .... I think I just wrote a song up there ...

Day 373

Don't you think it's rude when someone (hubby) buys you cute undies for your birthday and they are a size too big!!! The bastard.

It's even ruder when they actually fit.

Shit.

Day 372

So yesterday I was missing in action. Sorry about that. Had an incredibly bad migraine. Vomiting and everything. The lot. All better today though. Well, mostly. Can hardly open my eyes because of the fatigue and painkiller hangover.

So, the cheer comp went well with the school winning a place in everything we entered. Of course most of my pride comes from Tahlia's wins which was first in poms, third in cheer, first in group stunt and third in partner stunt. Yay Tahlia!!! Not that I'm bragging or anything ... I am just so impressed with the stunt groups she and her friends coordinated on their own. So clever. I am also very proud of all our school teams because of the work and dedication involved in getting all the routines to being the best that they can be. There were a lot of cheerful kids on Sunday!

We're off to Nationals in less that three weeks and I am incredibly nervous as our Nationals crew are learning all new routines for the event. Luckily all three coaches are working together on that one, so the onus isn't just on me.

I have an interesting conundrum. During this whole cheerleading caper I have been using the positive psychology principles with the kids to increase their confidence levels and self esteem. It has been working and shows in all aspects of their lives. I get emails from the parents all the time telling me what a positive impact cheer has had on their kids. But now look at the other side of the coin. With all this self belief the kids all feel like they are the best cheerleader they can be. And of course they are. But then when it comes time to decide who should represent the school in individual events, or smaller group events, or who should be out the front of a routine, everyone feels they are more than qualified to be there and can't understand why they can't be chosen. The reality is that people still miss out on certain things. Kids still have to stand at the back of routines. Some will not get a chance to star. They can't all make it to the grand final. Sigh. And this does my head in.

Let's take the Nationals team for example. Our dance coach needs people at the front of the routine who have a great ability to pick up choreography quickly, who have a good musical ear to count the beat, and then she coordinates that in height order. It's important to have our strongest people out the front so they can lead through the routine. Sounds logical. Except for when it's the same kids chosen over and over, and the kids at the back start to feel disillusioned. But how do you change that? Well, during the year for our regional and state comps we try to coordinate routines so everyone gets an opportunity to shine. But for Nationals, shouldn't we go there with the most competitive team possible?

I don't know the answer. I get confused. And while I am standing there confused I am trying to appease the kids who are in tears because they are up the back where they don't think anyone will see them. Sigh. It's all so hard. And when you have migraine it is doubly so ...

Anyway, today is a brand new day so best get on with it. Or do I? I am wondering if I shouldn't have another day in bed just to recover completely. It sounds very appealing ... it is what I would recommend to someone else .... but my bloody big work ethic keeps getting in the way ...

Too many conundrums ...

Day 371

MIA

Day 370

Our cheer philosophy: to bring joy to self and others.

That's what we're off to do!

Have a great Sunday everyone.

Day 369

It's going to be a very cheerful weekend.

We have our last State competition here tomorrow and I can't wait! I can't wait to see all the cheerleaders dressed in their gear, I can't wait to see their smiles and energy as they perform, I can't wait to cuddle and congratulate them as they come off the cheer floor, but most of all I can't wait until it's all over.

Sorry, but that's about the size of it.

I'm tired. I'm exhausted. I'm spent. I'm over it. I've got migraine. I'm losing my cheer spirit.

We've only got three coaches with 90 competitive cheerleaders. That's 3 coaches working with 5 teams, across 12 routines, doing choreography, admin, positive psychology, tumbling, stunting, strength training and dance. That's about five face-to-face hours a week each and another three working behind the scenes. In the whole scheme of things that's not a lot, but it is when it is done a volunteer basis and has to be done around work, business, family and household management.

Anyway, I'm not complaining. Really I'm not. I'm the one that brought cheerleading to the school, but if I am losing my cheer spirit a bit, then that has to be affecting the kids, and if they lose their cheer spirit, then what's the point? So it's time to find our cheer spirit again. It's time to find the joy. It's time to step back, recoup, re-energise and let that spirit break free.

Some of it returned last night I've got to say. In addition to cheer and poms routines, competitions also include parter stunts, group stunts, basket toss and individual events. Trying to work out who should represent the school out of 90 kids while remaining fair and inclusive is impossible. So we weren't going to enter these items. But the older two teams begged and begged and BEGGED and I figured, if they are so keen, then who am I to say no? So I suggested they get their own partner/group stunts together. They do all their own choreography. Get their own music. Then come to me with their plans on paper and I would give up some time to supervise as they rehearsed and we would then bring in an external judge for a "try-outs" session to determine who we should enter into Sunday's comp.

Wow. These kids were amazing! Their cheer spirit, their enthusiasm, dedication, choreography, innovation and skill blew me right out of the water. I am so proud. I didn't provide any input at all, even into my own daughter's stunting preparations. I just stood back, gave some coaching regarding safety and technique, and watched in awe. Anyway, last night was the big night where we had to choose 2 group stunts and two partner stunts to send to comp tomorrow. I wish I could have entered all of them. Honestly. But we could only do two of each. So we got our group stunts sorted (easy, there were only two entered in the end) and we got our partner stunts sorted. I am proud to announce that Tahlia and her partner will be representing our crew tomorrow. I am so happy for them, but also glad it was an external judge that made that decision. I mean, Tahlia and Phoebe did win their partner stunt last year at comp, but still, I don't want to be put in the position of choosing my own child over someone else's. And if the truth be known, it wasn't an easy decision. It was hard!!! The kids were all so very clever. In the end it came down to technique, form, consistency and general cheer attitude.

Anyway, that is a long story about spirit and digging deep to find mine again. This morning I will have more spirit as I pull my shoulders back, chest up, head up and plaster that smile on my face for three and a half hours of cheer practice as we make final adjustments for our comp tomorrow. And then, when this comp (and then Nationals) is all over, I will be sitting down to take stock and create a strategic plan for the cheerleading in general so that we can get more coaches on board and some across the board assistance with administration. If I am going to do this again next year I need to go back to my origins. I need to get back to basics. I need to go back to what brought me joy in the first place and try and side-step the bits that bring me stress and make we weary.

How's your spirit? Do you have something that used to bring you joy but has now become a chore? I would like to dedicate today to "bring back my spirit" day? Join me ..

Let me leave you with this little video of Tahlia and her partner performing last year's partner stunt routine. Just so you know what I am talking about .... they have improved 10 fold since then! I didn't realise just how much growth there has been until I watched this. Very cute.

PS Partner stunts are traditional male/female with a big strong bloke lifting his fair maiden, but at Primary School level we just let the kids do girl/girl as we are severely lacking in cheer dudes ....

Day 368

Before you start reading this post, do me a favour and press play on the video clip below and read as the song pumps out around you.

There is a guy in the US by the name of Eric Wahl who can do some pretty nifty stuff with a paintbrush. Actually, probably not so much with a paintbrush as with his hands and a canvass. Eric tells the story of how, as a 9 year old, he was told by a teacher that he wasn't very good at art. You see, he wouldn't follow the rules of art. He would colour outside the lines. That's wrong. Apparently. Anyway, he put his colour pencils away at the age of 9 and walked away from the activity that brought him joy.

Fast forward 25 years or so and Eric was a successful businessman on Wall Street. Fast forward to 11 September 2001 and this business man's life changed forever. When the twin towers came crashing down around him, so did Eric. He was physically and psychologically unable to cope with that event. He retreated to the four walls of his home and lost all sense of life. He hid. He lived with depression.

A friend told him to find something that brought him joy. His friend said to look into his childhood and find happiness. Eric remembered that art had made him happy until the day a teacher told him art was not his thing. So he walked into his garage and started to paint. But instead of painting within the rules, he decided to change the game. He was after all the kid who coloured outside the lines. What did he have to lose? Instead of building from light to dark on a white canvass, he decided to build from dark to light on a black canvass. He did the opposite of what he was taught and had his left and right brain working in dynamic tension with each other for creativity (right) and results (left).

Derek and I had the pleasure of watching Eric Wahl in action at a conference in Hawaii last year. Eric is now a motivational speaker using his art to work with people on innovation and transformational change. He is an artist and a visionary.

The moment Eric walked out on stage Derek and I were transfixed. He didn't speak. He had U2's "Beautiful Day" blasting through the speakers completely engulfing all of us in the auditorium. There were big screens up showing the film clip and as the music pumped through us he started to throw paint at a black canvass. Paint was just being slapped on willy nilly. He was using his hands and a paint brush. The whole time the music kept pumping. During the entire song he painted.

And then, with only seconds left of the song, and with one final flick of his paint brush, a canvass awash in random splatter became a picture and the crowd gasped.

I had tingles rush through my body.

WOW!!!

No one saw it coming ....

Genius. Pure genius.

This man is a genius. I will never forget how his art made me feel, and whenever I hear "Beautiful Day" I get that rush all over again. Eric Wahl draws with passion and abandon. The way he paints couldn't have been learned if he had gone to art school. He redefines what art is - experience, philosophy, emotion. He looks at the rules and finds ways to strategically break them which sets him apart from other artists.

Ask a class full of pre-schoolers "who can draw?". They will just about all put up their hands. Ask a class full of year 4 kids. Only half the class will say yes. Ask a year 10 class and you may only get one or two hands go up. Kids lose belief. They lose confidence. They are programed that art has to look a certain way. They are told that dogs can't be green, and that trees are not pink. They are told to build dark on light. They are encouraged to colour within the lines.

Every child is an artist, the challenge is how to maintain that as you grow up. We are capable of so much more than we are conditioned for.

We are all artists.

U2.

Day 367

These flowers arrived on our door step this morning. The card said "We would like to offer our sincere sympathy. Millie was a dear friend and was fortunate to live in your loving care, kind regards, Lesa and the staff Hall Vet Surgery."

As I was sending out gratitudes and humbles yesterday for the overwhelming support for DFF I was also battling a family "emergency". Millie, the white fluffy (and recently, the pink nude) died yesterday.

You can read about her original illness here and here.

Can you believe that she was really well the entire time we were on holidays. Millie spent time at a semi-rural retreat with Aunty Dee Dee and had the time of her life. Sure, she was little subdued. But she didn't have a single seizure. She didn't seem distressed in any way. She was happy.

We collected her on Tuesday night on the way home and she was pleased to see us. Tahlia tried some "dog clothes" on her that she had bought from "Desperate House Dogs" while in Adelaide. It was all very wonderful.

Then I awoke at 4.00am to her panting and wheezing and scratching about. I jumped out of bed to find her partially paralysed. Her eyes were glazed over. Her tongue was out of her mouth. She was struggling. She was in pain. She was dying.

We all sat with her until the vet opened and we were back on their door step. They tried one last treatment with her before she passed away on her own that afternoon. Millie had left us.

I sobbed. The kids were quiet. They had cried that morning and were prepared. I guess for me the sobbing came from the fact that I had to stay strong for the kids earlier in the day, and the fact that I was worried that Millie would die before Nanna saw her again. I sobbed. And I sobbed. And I sobbed. We brought her body home and buried her. We said our gratitudes and remembered her time with us.

And then it was time to call Nanna.

Nanna was inconsolable. It was the hardest phone call I recall ever having to make. We sobbed together. Nanna screamed. Nanna howled. Nanna kept saying "noooooo". It was hard. I wish I had been with her to hug her, but she lives 2 hours away. I should have made the drive. I was tired. It was all very hard. The phone call was not a good phone call.

I regret not taking Millie to see Nanna more often. I regret not taking more photos. I regret leaving the vets yesterday so that Millie died without us. I regret not cuddling her more. It's so easy to have regrets when death arrives.

But we also have a great deal of gratitude. Gratitude that Millie became Nanna's companion when Pop died. That Millie was sunshine in Nanna's life and gave her complete joy with every visit. That Millie fit in so well with our family. That Millie gave Tahlia a companion and another pet to love. That Millie was, for a short time, a valued and loved member of our family.

Rest in peace Millie.

And Nanna, I am sorry ...

Day 366

Well, here I am.

Due to an overwhelming influx of emails overnight (and a handful of comments on my posts below) I feel the need to keep blogging! I am quite humbled at the fact that emails came from around the world, across Facebook, via Twitter and even a text message asking me not to stop blogging. I didn't realise half of the people who contacted me even read DFF!! Wow.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. And in gratitude I will do my best to create something worth reading.

Day 365

Ok. I made it.

We've made it home from our trip, and I made it home on the blog.

We have walked in the door to our undamaged and unburgled home in Canberra.

And I have achieved a whole year of blogging on Deep Fried Fruit every single freaking day. Rain, hail or migraine. Whether happy, sad or suffering the fuckity fuckits. Whether fit and fabulous or fat and fatigued. Whether tanned, smooth and well groomed or white, saggy and hairy. Whether loving my husband and adoring my kids, or smacking my husband around the ears and letting off the Mummy Bomb at the children. A whole year of waking up at dawn with nadda in my brain and having to create readable dribble. A whole year of telling the world how wonderful 40 is and how you too can be somewhat fit and slightly fabulous even when you are bloody fatigued. A whole year ....

And here we are. At the end.

What do I do now?

Do I rejoice in my new found freedom or mourn for a long lost friend?

This blog has been my outlet. My constant. My friend. My connector. My network. My reason for jumping out of bed somedays, and for wanting to stay in it on others. My partner in crime. My sounding board. My listener. My soap box. My confidant. My wisdom. My gripe. My punching bag. My celebration. Mine.

How can I let that go?

I'm not sure I can ...

Day 364

Well, to be honest, I don't know how to feel. I don't feel great. But I don't necessarily feel sad either. I feel a bit void I guess.

Today is the anniversary of my 40th birthday. A year ago today I was feeling fit and fabulous (if not slightly fatigued) and was ready to take on the world in a big way. I was looking the best I had in years, feeling completely fresh and had some serious goals on the go. Here I am a year later with all that extra padding returned to my bones, feeling extremely exhausted and without a lot of gusto I've got to say. It must be that tail I'm now dragging around. Because I'm not turning 41 remember. No siree. I am still 40 ... but with a tail.

So what am I going to do about getting back to being fit and fabulous? Well for a start I might like to adjust my mindset. Stop walking around dragging my tail. I could actually stick my tail up in pride and even give it a little wag. I might not be looking as hot as I was this time last year, but there's lots to be proud of.

It really has been an awesome year. My big goal of course for my 40th year was to get published. That has been all consuming but the effort and the sacrifices created great results. No, I'm not quite published yet, but the mock-ups are being prepared in NYC as I speak and I should be signing off on a final over the next two weeks in readiness for my book on the shelves at Christmas. Woot woot!!!! And the other three books should follow closely behind next year. Can't complain about that ...

What else? Well, I did go trapeze flying, and climbed the highest mountain in Australia, and had a wonderful holiday in Noosa, and am currently travelling outback in our wonderful country. I never did go back to trapeze flying to be caught by a catcher like I said I would, nor did I make it to the USA like we'd planned. But they can be goals for my 40 + tail year. When I start selling my books and we have more time and money again.

I did take the cheerleaders to complete victory last year with them finishing up as the undisputed 2009 11 years and under ACT poms champions! And we are going to the Australian Nationals in a few weeks because of their growth and success in 2010. That's a big achievement. Oh, and of course I did become officially accredited as a level 2 cheer coach. Got to be happy with that.

And I guess my boobs are still reasonably situated (even if they do disappear under my arms when I lie down) and my arse isn't quite to my knees yet. The hail damage on my thighs is a new phenomenon and one I may be able to fix with a bit of firming exercise. Not sure what to do about the sagging face and crinkly neck, but I guess there are more lotions and potions I could try when I'm rich and famous. Perhaps that will magically firm up when I am feeling less fatigued. Nothing like exhaustion to age you.

I've got all my own teeth! And not a single filling. Now that's something to celebrate. And that muffin top I'm carting about with me on this holiday is probably all fluid. I'd say it's a bourbon and champagne muffin so I'll drain that in a week or so. (Remember those 3kg I mysteriously lost a few weeks back without even trying? Well they found me on this holiday and brought a few of their friends. The bastards.) Oh, and let's not forget that I am still happily married (most of the time) and that I have great kids who are healthy and happy. And a step-daughter who is doing fabulously well in the world of the grown up and is getting married next year. I still have my parents who are fit, healthy and happy, and one living grandparent. Yep. All good things.

Yes, I guess I can hold my tail up in pride as I carry that new appendage around. Being 40 was absolutely one of the best years of my life, mainly because I made the decision it was going to be that way. Now it is time to grab hold of 41 and do likewise!!

That said, I'm supposed to stop blogging now. This is to be the official end of Deep Fried Fruit. I made the decision to blog for a year. And I did that. Or did I? Hang on a minute! That title up there says Day 364 ... I've still got a day left. Hmph. I guess I'll see you tomorrow ....

In the meantime "HAPPY TAIL-DAY TO ME ......"

Day 363

We did it! The trip is now complete. Anything else is a bonus.

Last night we went to the Adelaide drive-in. And it didn't disappoint. The kids had the front seats while Derek and I sipped champagne in the back seat. The place was full of families, some in their cars, some sitting outside on fold-up chairs, some on mattresses in the back of station wagons (reversed in). Before the movie started there was a petting zoo set up at the snack bar and a game of ring toss. We loaded up on hamburgers, chips and Maltezers. It was a blast! Oh, and we watched the movie too of course. "Despicable Me". Definitely an experience to remember and well worth the cross country trip. I wish we had a drive-in back home. No seriously, I really wish we had a drive-in. So much fun!!

Oh, and the zoo was lovely too. We got to see Wang Wang and Funi! Here is a video of Wang Wang .....

We start our return leg today. I think we plan to get as far as Swan Hill.

Day 362

I type this as I sit in our room at the Crowne Plaza looking out over the city of Adelaide.

When we arrived a few days back we checked into a villa at the Adelaide Shores Resort. It was more like a cabin than a villa. Very comfortable and the grounds were great fun for the kids with lots of other families to hang with, a playground, jumping balloon, pool, games room. That was the kids portion of the holiday. We did that bit for them. But yesterday we packed up and ventured into the city, just for some diversity, and some grown up accommodation.

The moment we arrived in the city we marveled at how un-city like it seemed. The buildings aren't overly tall, the roads not terribly busy. We wondered where all the people were. So we checked in and went for a walk. It was time to hit that Rundle Mall that Adelaide is famous for. Tis not an indoor mall that burbs all over the world offer, but a paved street full of shops and mini-malls. Apparently. So we've been told.

So we went for a short walk and stepped into some open doors where our stomachs told us the food was. We were right. It was a very small food court. So small in fact that again we wondered where the people were. Are you sure this Adelaide place is a city? Not much to choose from. We circled the food court twice and finally made our choices. Our stomachs were satisfied. So again we walked. Through a different set of doors. We stepped outside, looked right. A hand full of people wandering around. Hmmm. Ghost town? We looked left ... HOLY SHIT .... our entire vision was a coloured wave ... a psychedelic python ... the ground was moving ... that's where all the people are. We'd been at the arse end of Rundle Mall. Clearly this place was a city after all. We entered the throng and got swept up in the carpet of people .... it certainly felt like a city now! Hold on to your handbags and your kids. Not sure how long it will be before we get spat out the other end ...

I reflect on that now because while it was momentary wonder and realisation for Derek and I, it seems it was a little overwhelming for our Darby. I was "encouraged" to wake up this morning with a 6 year old boy in my ear whose first words for my day were "Mummy, I'm scared to be in a city". Huh? I slowly left my cheer leading dream (it was a disaster of a routine anyway) and tried to focus on his voice. What mate? "I'm scared to be in this city. I'm afraid of those people. When are we leaving?" Really? Wow. This is a kid who has been in Sydney, Honolulu, New York, LA, and he's afraid of Adelaide? It made sense though. He did hold our hands very tight yesterday, and he wasn't himself. He actually said he felt sick and couldn't eat any dinner last night. He kept asking when we were going home. Derek and I decided he was home sick. Turns out he was .... with a little bit of crowd anxiety thrown in. I guess we've never noticed it before because during our other trips he's been quite a bit younger and he was probably carried through much of it, but now he is walking along in the crowd feeling vertically challenged and overwhelmed. Yes, well, I can understand the discomfort. Psychedelic pythons and moving carpets are a tad freaky ...

There's much I am marveling at in reference to the kids on this trip. Darby's growth spurt, his changing appearance, his skinny angular frame, and now his mind matter is just one area of contemplation. Tahlia's race towards teenager-dom is another. (That's a whole other posting.) Being on holidays and away from the routine gives me plenty of time to be mindful of just how short the period of kidnom really is. In the blink of an eye they'll be all grown up and keeping us at arms length. I want to treasure every moment between now and then ...

So with that said we've decided today is kids choice. They have chosen the zoo. Excellent. Adelaide Zoo, here we come ...

Day 361

Today I had another first. My first Ikea experience.

Yep, we didn't just travel all the way from Canberra to Adelaide to go to the drive in. We also came to buy Tahlia a desk for her birthday. Crazy? Maybe. Of course we could have gone to Sydney, but where is the fun in that? Nope. Adelaide just had to happen and Ikea was part of it. We wanted to join the flat pack revolution. Adelaide seemed like a great place to do it.

So we stood at the doors and waited for them to open. And waited. And waited. Keen? Yeah, just a little. Finally it was opening hour and we were in!! And the arrows carried us through a city of flat-pack, via kids gear, shelving, storage, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen .... through it all ... at which point I had mild panic ... as we moved deeper and deeper into the bowels of the store I wondered where the exits were ... was there an exit? Where were these arrows taking us? Was this trickery ... a trap ... another universe ... where would it end? Where were the windows?? I tried to turn and run against the arrows but I felt too naughty. I looked up at the security cameras. Would I get in trouble for back tracking? If I were to reverse did I have to walk backwards? We kept walking forwards. We just walked faster. Then we got separated. Where are my family? Around that bend? No. That one? No. Shit. Behind that facade? No. Should I scream? Dare I turn and walk back the way I came? No. Keep walking. Getting thirsty. Feeling weak. And then I found them. Standing next to the perfect desk. Everything about it was right. The size, the colour, the price, the configuration. Perfect. Only one minor problem. They were sold out. Shit. Bugger. Poo. Bum. Wee. Fuck. So we threw little tantrums and bolted through the rest of the store breathing only when we were safely back out in the carpark. We gasped for air. We staggered and fell. Gotta get away. Too intense ...

Back in the car and on our way out. No exit sign. Again that feeling of entrapment. Ikea has us captured. No way out of the car park. Around and around we go. You have got to be kidding me!! Walked away without a desk and now we'll die in the car park? Shit. Bugger. Poo. Bum. Wee. Fuck. Then a light bulb flashed in my brain. Tom Tom. I turned him on .... he mapped out our escape. We were free ....

Until next time ...

It was a bloody great desk. The Ikea safari will happen again. Next time we will come prepared. Walki talkies, food, water, night vision goggles, passports and wads of cash.

Next stop, Sydney ...