The Hardest Day of Parenting, Yet!

Tough love....who is it harder for?

Since she arrived on the 23rd of April, Lucy and I have been joined at the hip (well, at the breast, mostly). She became my new sidekick, my new accessory if you will (a very cute one too!) being dragged around to this and that. I was absolutely smitten with her and wanted to show her off at any opportunity I could. And very quickly I realised if I fed her and changed her, she would generally sleep in the pram so it was coffees and magazines for me. Aaaaaah, fresh air! God knows after I spent the latter part of my pregnancy housebound, I had a lot of living to be done!

Greg was home for the first week and then only worked 3 days a week for the next 6 weeks, so he was around alot too. We enjoyed taking her downtown for coffees, going on little family picnics, and heading around to our friends places where she would be cuddled until her heart was content. But once Greg went back to work he was surprised by how often I was still getting out. I'd go to mothers groups, movies, shopping, visits, and for walks around the park. I didn't realise until after the fact that I had hated being so trapped inside.

So for 10 months now, it's been Lucy and I, a little team of Granger girls. As she is breastfed and didn't care for the bottle until just recently I couldn't really go anywhere without her. And she has been a real mummy's girl as well, despite Greg's willingness and want to settle her and do his half of the parenting work, she has mostly preferred me.

Until a few weeks ago! When all of a sudden my highly esteemed place in Lucy's heart as number one shifted and we saw her do a big swing towards Greg's side of the table. And I was waiting for it, but didn't realise it would come so soon. I knew there would eventually be a time when mum got boring and daddy (who is at work for 8 hours a day) is the most wonderful thing in the world. Now, don't get all reassuring on me, I know how much my daughter loves and adores me, and that when she is sad or upset I am the one she turns to. I am simply saying that Greg has started to really come into her affections the way he has hoped for so long now.

You should see her little face light up when she sees the door of his shed lift as he reverses his car in. She looks at me, and then back out the window. She can hear him open the back door and she starts crawling towards the laundry door expectantly. And when he opens that door, oh my gosh, it is like all her Christmas's have come at once. She squeals in delight! Jumps up and down on her little knees and giggles at him. And all he has done is smile. The most beautiful, special, and intimate moments of my heart, right there for all to see.

Now Lucy has been more than we could have hoped for in a daughter, and we are so thankful everyday that she is a delight to us. Lately she has been sleeping terribly (by lately, I mean for a few months now) and it has reached a head this week. With no more than 2 hours in a row most nights, she wakes and wants to feed each time. After seeking several professionals for advice, I decided she wasn't feeding from hunger, but for comfort. And I also saw that without changing something, I was quickly heading down a path of destruction myself. Believe me, after crying without a pause for 2 hours on Friday night because my heavy sense of overwhelming stress and fatigue was too much too bear, Greg and I both realised we couldn't keep going how we were.

And it wasn't just for selfish reasons of 'hmmm, I'd like some more sleep'. But out of necessity because I wasn't actually surviving anymore. The Lauren that has coped remarkably well from day one was falling apart in a big tired mess. The same one who everyone had said had taken to motherhood like a duck to water, who took all things in her stride and who coped well with anything Lucy could throw at her. Well, this one and the same girl was crying out for help for the first time, and it was extremely tough to do. Admitting that in fact you didn't have it all together.

And there were so many telltale signs of my lack of togetherness. The house was a thousand times worse than normal (I mean, Greg and I struggle to keep it together on good days so I can see how that might have been looked over, but it was much worse!) and I couldn't get on top of any of it. I was in a shocking state of hairiness too, with my legs rivalling those of an 16 yr old boy and my eyebrows were as bad as those on Oscar the Grouch! Mono brow included. And I stopped going anywhere. It was too hard to do anything at all. And of course, as you know Lucy was sick two weeks ago, so that certainly didn't help things either. So something needed to change.

What is the worst thing you have ever done as a parent? Is it making up rules that you then hate sticking by? Accidentally hurting your child? Having to watch them get immunised? My worst moment by far was last night. Because last night, I cut her off. From me, and therefore from her beloved nighttime feeds for comfort. And in went Greg to mop up the mess. The first time she woke, man she was cranky. And Greg hardened his heart against her cries for me and patiently settled her as best he could, with love, cuddles, patting, shhhhhhing and anything else that worked. And after 45 minutes of crankiness and tears, she went back to sleep.

And I stood in the shower crying. Because as her mother, it has always been my role to stop the crying. She has always turned to me to fix her. I have always been the one to bring her comfort, to know she is safe, to know she is loved. And last night for that 45 minutes, I am sure she thought I abandoned her. I could hear her accusations in her screams for me. Where the hell are you Mum!!!?

And as predicted and expected, 2 hours later, she woke again. And off Greg went, patient and kind, into her room to disappoint her yet again. But she understood after only 10 minutes this time that Greg was all she would get tonight. And 2 hours later, she woke to him and was settled within a few minutes. And so on went our two hour sleeps until I finally fed her when dawn came at 6am, and she slept again until 8am. So predictable. I was so grateful that she understood quickly that it was daddy who would come, and that there was no point begging him for food...he couldn't offer even if he wanted to.

And so we continue tonight, I'm hoping it may be a little easier again, and that she may sleep a longer between getting up. Because soon she will hopefully realise there is no point to waking up during the night, there is nothing for her.

But until she sleeps, I won't sleep. Even though Greg is getting up to her, I am lying there...guilty as all hell and praying she sleeps quickly without fuss. Praying she knows without a doubt that her mummy loves her so much. Praying that she understands that her mummy needs to look after herself because unless I do, I will be less capable to look after her.

 Thankfully she doesn't hold a grudge.

Ciao for Now,
LG, Life's Good!

The Controversial Wearing of Pants!

Who wears the pants!?

Relationships are tricky things at times. You have two people who are hoping to head down the same path towards their mutual future...but at times they have differing ideas of how to get there! And even when you are the most compatible couple in the world, you still get on each others nerves from time to time.

I remember my mother gave me some excellent advice when we got engaged...'there will be days when you just love each other so much that you will want to burst. There will be days when you want to kill each other too. But mostly, there will be days that are mediocre, when you are just two people travelling alongside each other with the same goals in mind.' And in our relationship I have found that to be true.

Greg and I are best friends who share our secrets together, we tell each other things we would never share with anyone else. We see the best sides of each other on our good days and the worst of each other on our bad days. We know when the other is cranky, or just tired, when there is a real issue or simply it's just that time of the month. And at times we can't get enough of each other, madly in love and joking around within our own little bubble of happiness. But other times we misunderstand each other, the tone we use or the words we say, like we hardly know each other at all.

I was talking with friends on the weekend about the old wearing of pants business (and I promised I'd write a blog on it, you're welcome!). You know, its a term that seems to under mind the masculinity of the man in the relationship. Under the thumb? Wears his balls on her necklace etc? It was claimed that I was the wearer of pants in our relationship. But was does it mean? That they have viewed me in my role as Greg's wife to be too strong? Or have they viewed him as too weak? Because doesn't it mean that the balance is wrong if the girl is wearing the pants? Isn't it a bit insulting to hear that?

What I am surprised at is why this tiny statement should matter at all to me. Ooooh, God forbid something thinks I am wearing the pants! Who cares!? Why do I give a damn how they see our relationship from their view point? I know they love us both and are supportive of us as a couple and as a family. It was a passing joke if anything. But perhaps I do see what they see.

What they might see is that Greg doesn't do much without checking in with me first. He might prefer to spend Saturday night with the family at home rather than heading down to the pub, but I also might have blown off the girls to do the same. They might see me asking Greg to not go fishing for an afternoon so he can spend some time with us instead. So they see Greg doing things to please me, to keep his wife happy. Happy wife, happy life?

It's like wearing the pants means that he should continue to do whatever he chooses, whenever he chooses and never consider anyone else, continue on living a life like he had before he married or became a parent. Wearing the pants means he doesn't consider others when making decisions, and what he says goes. Wearing the pants means that he shouldn't be questioned, that he should be obeyed. Hmmmm.

Does wearing the pants mean still going away for weeks with the boys? Does wearing the pants mean still doing all the hobbies you enjoy? Does wearing the pants mean staying out late with the boys when you'd like to? 

So I asked our friends to show me a relationship in which the man wore the pants....they couldn't think of one. So does it actually exist in reality? This alpha man who wears the pants? Or is it just a way to tease our men about being considerate, caring and communicative husbands (which is actually what they should be!).

Because perhaps once a guy falls in love and chooses to consider another person in everything they do, it actually makes him become the man he was intended to be. Maybe choosing to put someone else first in life is honourable, and will make him a much better partner for the long haul. I have seen men who try and hold all control in a relationship, it often ends in the women feeling so downtrodden that they must break free and walk away.

Although, I know I have seen cases when either the guy or girl in a relationship over time resembles nothing of their former self. No longer partaking in anything for them. No longer caring what they think for themselves, only thinking of the other. That is the extreme case that I am sure this saying started with. The man who can no longer socialise with his friends, who no longer does any hobbies, who no longer sees anyone. He is the man I think they initially thought of when saying she wears the pants.

But don't think the girl doesn't change herself to fit either. I can't tell you how many times I have chosen Greg over others, how often I have dragged my feet to events that interest him, how I made the choice to stop participating in shows for the moment because that is time I'd rather spend with him. How I have to run my ideas past him about spending money on major things, how I have to be more giving with my time so he can do his hobbies. What I buy when I do the groceries is based on what Greg likes to eat. And I love doing all these things because I love him and want to please him, as he does me.

So in my mind Greg wears the pants. And maybe in his mind I wear the pants. Because we both feel that our control has been relinquished somewhat to each other...that we no longer make choices only for ourselves because we care what the other wants as well. And we don't resent this at all. We have welcomed it as it changes and grows each year we are together. 

A relationship is a partnership. Where both people should be caring of the other. I consider us to be equal partners in our relationship, considering the other before we commit to anything and ensuring that we do guard our time together as a couple, and as a family, as precious and necessary.

And this old line about who wears the pants? I don't think it's relevant anymore.

Ciao for Now,
LG, Life's Good!

Work Schmirk!

Who wants to work for a living?

If you had asked me while I was still in high school where I would be in 10 years, I doubt I would have said working as a Public Servant. Yes, I would have hoped to be married and with children, perhaps settled in a house too. Tick, tick, tick. But what did I want to do as a vocation? Had I high hopes for my career? I think I had high hopes to win lotto and never have to work!

Originally, I was dreaming of the performing arts. I thought perhaps I would start with some modelling to get my face on the side of a bus, then perhaps move to a little Home and Away, and after that some Playschool. And then with my screen experience until my belt, I'd continue on to the stage - performing leading roles in Sydney and beating Marina Prior and Lisa McCune at the bit for the best shows in town. I had even told some buddies at school that when I made it to the Logies (of which of course I'd be nominated for a Silver), I would take them as my dates.

So what happened? How did this girl of lights and glamour end up 40kgs overweight, still living in my hometown, and in a job for money rather than love? What happened to the ambition, the self belief, the dreams of fame and fortune? I'll tell you what happened...opportunity walked up and tapped me on the shoulder, with the temptations of security and stability. And my life has been this way ever since!

During senior high school years, I worked as a nanny for a childcare company. I worked for the same family for 2 years, every day after school I'd drive to their school and pick them up, take them home, play, do homework, and get ready for dinner so that their parents could spend quality time with them upon their arrival home around 6pm. I became part of their family, and I loved them. But when I finished school, I needed a little more work than just the afternoons, so working with the same company, I took last minute work. Someone would call me the day before with the details of my job the next day.

It was working well for me until one day I had a strange case. I turned up at the house to look after 1yr old twins whilst the mother worked from home and would assist me when required. Upon my arrival I saw the mother was quite the hippy. As the day progressed, I grew to like the babies, and the mother wasn't around too much so it was okay...she really was a bit of an odd ball. Just before I was due to finish up, I was asked to help her bathe the bubs. No problems! She said she'd go in and get the bath ready, and could I please get the first baby ready and bring him in. Okay, that's cool. Away she goes, and off I go in different directions to get the baby out of his clothes and nappy, ready for his bath time. I walk the little man into the bathroom only to find her IN THE BATH NUDE, and she cares not that I am a stranger, her employee for the day, a girl, or anything else. Perhaps I had her pegged wrong...maybe not hippy, but more exhibitionist? Lesbian? Nudist?! Certainly no prude.

Well, this was awkward. What made it worse was that she asked me to test the water with my elbow to double check the temperature. WHILE SHE WAS IN THE BATH! Honestly, it was the strangest job I have ever had! I tell this story all the time because her house is on a street we often drive along. Poor Greg. 'Oh Greg, you know who lives in that house!?' 'The Naked Lady?' 'Oh. Yes.'

Anyway, I'm off track. It is slightly relevant because I was working this nanny job at the time my sister called me with an excellent opportunity. She had been at a BBQ with a friend who was in charge of setting up a project, and they required 100 staff by Monday! And they would pay me triple what I was getting now (to look at naked hippys). And it could lead to more permanent roles in the public service.....and so began my career.

I have enjoyed a lot of my career, and have certainly been satisfied as I won new positions and moved up the pay scale, but it isn't what I had in mind when I was younger. But you know what? It enables me to have the life I want after hours. I work to live, not live to work. I work during business hours so that I can enjoy my life more at home, having the lifestyle that I love (which includes a lot of holidays!). And it works well. I have built up some qualifications in my area of expertise and I am respected amongst my peers. I have developed wonderful friendships along the way and many wonderful things have come from my working in the public service.

But this satisfaction was all before I realised there was an even greater job out there. One that would bring me so much reward, one that I was desperate to achieve great things in, one that would change my outlook on life and leave me looking forward to the next day so much I could burst with excitement! I'm talking about Lucy. The most wonderful baby in the world! Although, at the moment, I don't have to wait all night to see what the next day will bring, she insists on seeing me every 2 hours just to say hi! Those of you who are parents will understand what I say when I am talking about such a new sense of purpose in life. And those of you who aren't yet parents but wish to be, you can certainly try your hardest to imagine and prepare yourself for such wonder, but before I met Lucy I can tell you I just couldn't comprehend it the way I do now. And being a primary carer can be a tough job but I find it mostly just a delight. I am the happiest I have even been, and I think I might be working harder than I ever have...there is no down time!

But in April (or maybe as soon as mid/late March) I am due back at work and will begin a new phase of trying to focus on something during the day so I can get it done, do my hours and get home to be with Lucy again! I will transition back into work doing part time hours initially, but moving to full time soon enough. I will miss my little one so much, she is my new best friend! We do everything together, and aren't used to being apart. And I think we have reached that point in life when I have almost become more reliant upon her than she is on me. So while she is off having an awesome time at daycare, meeting new little buddies and learning all sorts of things, I will be at my desk trying to imagine what she is up to. Trying to focus on something that I am getting paid to do.

I'm not looking forward to it, but will try my best to be positive. After all, once I am back to work full time again, I will qualify for my next Mat Leave. Wink Wink.

Ciao for Now,
LG, Life's Good!

Over The Yo Yo Effect!

The magical answer....

How many New Years resolutions have you had that started with 'I will try to be healthier this year'? Whether it be to lose weight, to reach a fitness goal, or to eat more real, nutritious foods. I feel like that has been my first point of call for resolutions every year since I was 13. This year will be different. This year, I will change my life. Next year, I won't be sitting here wishing the same thing over and over again. And each year so far, I have found myself wishing the same thing because for some reason it didn't happen.

Now, I told you previously that I underwent hypnosis to help me live a healthy life without having to fight myself along the way? Not to lose weight, but to eat well and to exercise (and clearly the weight will follow). How's that going for me? Well, I think I thought it was some kind of magical answer, that I no longer had to try and be conscious of eating well and exercising regularly. And I have stopped focusing on my end goals and what I will feel and look like when I arrive at that golden BMI range. Because I have stopped giving myself time to look after me.

Over this past fortnight things have been incredibly hectic! Poor little Lucy had her first fever which gave us quite the scare - especially when it dropped to 33.4! And obviously not much sleep is had by anyone when the baby isn't well, so we were all running on empty. Add to that Lucy's norm is to wake every 2 hours at the moment even when she is well and you have a little family of exhausted individuals! My saving grace has been my wonderful family and friends who have offered to take Lucy for an hour or two so we could sleep, or clean or do whatever it is that we wanted to do. Admittedly, we didn't take up any of those offers...but knowing that they are there is half the gift. And if we truly needed to, we would. My other saving grace has been eating/drinking high energy foods with no nutritional content. Booo! And as a result, for the first time in quite a while, the scales went UP! Dang! Not surprising though, considering not a great deal of exercise was happening...more likely I was found lying on the floor with Lucy, her playing, me unable to muster any strength or energy to move.

So previously, my feelings would be along the lines of 'well, now I have stuffed it all, might as well give up!', but what I am thinking now is I am glad I have noticed the change early enough to stop it. It is completely within my control and I don't have to sit by and watch my body re stack on weight that doesn't belong here anymore. Be gone evil double chin! Your banished love handles! You don't belong on this body anymore!

Man, I wish that I had stopped and taken notice when I had put on weight in teenage years and then again once I was married. It is so much harder to take it off than it is to put it on!!! Believe me, you are looking at a Yo Yo dieter from way back, getting in on all the fads I possibly could! I've tried Weight Watchers, Cohen's Lifestyle program, Tony Ferguson, the Atkins Diet and Lite'n'Easy, plus I'm sure many more. And you know I have had considerable success with some of those. But my life is full of socialising at meal times and I have found time and time again that I can't maintain a diet as such...I end up resenting it and everyone around me.

 With Ali, at my healthiest I have been in years - NYE 2005/2006

So by chance I stumbled across the most amazing answer in the whole universe, a secret that I seemed to have missed seeing this whole time. Something so miraculous that I can't believe everyone doesn't know it!!! It's that old story of eating real, nutritious, whole foods and being active. You know what they crap on about on the TV all the time, the signs up in your doctors waiting room, and just normal common sense knowledge? WOW! It actually works! I feel like a real idiot for trying so many different things when the answer was here the whole time.

So I am pumped to go to my second Zumba class tonight and get active in a big way! Get that tomato head going! And I am going shopping this morning for groceries when Lucy wakes up - so I can fill my fridge with excellent options, rather than quick fixes. Because stuff returning to a higher weight than I am right now. Screw that! No way. I have released this weight to never return, and I will not accept it back in my life.

You know, the day before I had Lucy, I weighed in at 23kgs heavier than what I am today. And before I got pregnant, I was 2kgs heavier than I am today. By the time I am pregnant next, I must be within my healthy BMI range. Which means I am to release a further 40 kgs! Yes, I do have that much to say goodbye to. And I want to be honest with you. Because being honest to approximately 60 people out there provides a great transparency for me, and I can't trick all of you into thinking I am doing well if I am not.

With Amy and Kat, at my heaviest January 2009

So I'm focuses again. And I can tell you the Lauren in my mind that I see at the end of 2012 is the best Lauren there ever was (physically). She is confident, active, graceful, quick, and she loves life! Oh yes, she loves life! And she will give herself the best chance of having a healthy, strong and enjoyable pregnancy so that she isn't stuck within these 4 walls for 5 months again.

If you too are on this journey to a healthier life, tell me. Give me the inspiration to know I have you by my side. Share your goals with me, so we can encourage each other. And make sure it stops now, don't continue this unhealthy lifestyle you may have developed. I know we all have valid reasons for falling into such traps, but there is very little justification for staying there. You actually have control of your life, so take it by the balls and GO!

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Makeover Me!

First impressions last....

I always try to judge people on their inner qualities rather than their outer image, although I do like to appreciate the beautiful things in life. I like to think that you can be a beautiful person without necessarily being physically attractive. And I also know from experience that a person can look elegant and refined, but the moment they open their big mouth, their ugliness takes overs and it becomes obvious that they are a complete mole! I try and get to know people and appreciate their character and opinions, their attitudes and beliefs.

But lets be honest...first impressions are mostly based on what you see. When you meet someone for the first time, you will very quickly decide if you would like to continue the conversation, or if you signal to your Wing Man/Wing Girl to come and rescue you. You know at a party, there is that one person who seems to attract attention for all the right reasons. And there is also that one person you spend the night avoiding, whether it be subconsciously or not. 

And I feel that what men do to make a first impression is completely different to what women do. Oh, and don't get me wrong...I'm not talking about picking up here. I'm talking about meeting friend's partners, meeting new friends, work colleagues etc. Now I like the men in my life to make me laugh, because I walk away from meeting them thinking, aren't they funny? And I love to laugh. If they can get a belly laugh out of me, we will be friends forever. And I also like them to be of the non-sleazy variety: I don't mind flirting, but I'd like it to be respectful of my husband who is standing just over there. And of course I love a man who tells me I'm looking lovely when I am (thank you Steve, Jase and Gaz), but who doesn't throw it out there when I'm not just as part of conversation. A man who asks questions and tries to get to know you always wins in my book, and those who I share any interest with will continue to rise in appreciation with each newly discovered likeness. I steer clear of tossers, sleazes, and sweaty men.

But girls are completely different. I am attracted to girls (for friendship purposes) who wear colours to bring out their natural beauty. I like girls who look like they are having fun with lots of laughs and a mischieveous twinkle in their eyes! I like girls who care about building relationships and being honest with each other. I like girls that are approachable and fun to be around. I admire girls who take extra care to dress appropriately for the event, whatever it may be, and I prefer those who have natural looking makeup to those who cake it on. I tend to steer clear of those girls who sneer at others, who appear to be bitching with their friends about others in the room, and who generally look like trash.

But all of this within a split second of meeting a person. Because that first impression will last a long time. We all know that the good looking people in the world actually have more opportunities in life...proven fact. So if you are an unattractive person reading this blog, my apologies go to you and your family for the tough times ahead.

But don't they say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover? Well, chances are you will anyway to some extent. Because you just can't get to know everyone deeply and intimately before you choose whether you'd like them around or not.

I take too little time on my appearance. A daily routine? Whats that! Although I see what I like in other girls, I very rarely meet that match myself. I hate shopping...overweight girls my age get the awesome pleasure of dressing like your mum because there is hardly anything out there for my size. And most of the clothes are made in such a way that they actually make me look bigger by hiding my waistline and making me more frumpy. So I don't shop. And as a result my clothes are daggy, old and re-used all the time. And I hardly take any time for myself, so even though I have lovely coloured and cut hair...most days it goes up in a ponytail because it is so unruly that it requires blow drying and straightening to be worn down. And because it is so thick, that takes 45mins. Who has that kind of time. If you are lucky, I might have some mascara on.

What I would prefer of myself is a well dressed Lauren. Who wears her hair down more often than not, who takes a moment to pop a little something on her face to accentuate her beautiful features (eyes, cheekbones, lips) so they stand out. I'd like to be able to walk into a room confidently knowing I look great, rather than looking around the room wishing I had taken some time to freshen up my look instead of sleeping that extra 30 mins.

I want to take pride in my appearances. To be a person who cares enough to treat myself right. So many mums around the world say things like, I come last etc. But I'd like Lucy to grow up with a mum who shows her that is important to look after yourself. To spend time making yourself presentable to the world. That you should have a pleasurable image as well as nature. And she will learn that in the real world, she will be making first impressions which are a culmination of her image, personality, temperament and character.

I'm dreaming of a stylist, a makeup tutor, some money, and of shops that sell outfits that compliment my curves rather than try to hide them. Because while I am getting fitter all the time and making efforts to lead a healthier lifestyle...I'm not there yet. And I want to stop that rolling ball of disgrace each day that starts with 'well, I have nothing to wear so there is no point making any effort with the rest of me'.

So I am going to start a self makeover. Buy some clothes that are nice (surely there must be some out there!) and treat them lovingly. Wash my makeup off each night (if I have bothered to put any on that day!). Wear my hair out instead of up. And generally improve my outside image to better match my inner beauty.

UH OH! Panda eyes, PJ's and Product in hair from yesterday! 

Looks like somebody needs a little TLC! 

Because I'm worth it. (Hair shake)

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

We're Going On A (Real Live) Bear Hunt (Watch)!

Um...we have a baby...will it be safe?!

Everyone thought we were crazy, travelling with a 5 month old baby. And not just travelling, but we were heading to the other side of the world....CANADA! 'Poor little thing getting dragged by her parents all the way over there, just to fulfil some selfish plans of theirs, how inconsiderate of them to want to take such a big trip with a baby!!! She will never remember any of it!' Pft! There were a handful of supporters, saying encouraging things like 'Oh, if you are going to do a trip like that, this is the perfect time for it. Before she can walk, crawl or roll, while she is free to fly! It will be much harder to go when she is older.'

Two of our best friends are living in Canada and were halfway through their 4 year stay. We were desperately missing them and had vowed before they left that we would visit them sometime during that 4 years. Yet all of a sudden we were having a baby. When Greg suggested we go anyway once the baby was born I was initially skeptical, then committed to the idea! As long as the baby was settled enough, we would go. So we waited to see what the luck of the draw would bring us and were delighted when we met Lucy May Granger - a sweet little placid girl who could be fixed by either changing, feeding or sleeping. Hooray! After consultation with our friends regarding dates and if indeed their invitation to stay could also include the baby, we bought our tickets without much more thought. And to the great surprise of many we planned a five week trip to Canada, travelling the Rockies, and visiting Ottawa, Niagara Falls, Edmonton, Calgary, Vancouver Island and Whistler.

Now, if any of you know my husband, he loves his outdoors and even more so his wildlife. So he was extremely keen to check out any Canadian animals we could find, moose, elk, whitetailed deer, squirrels, etc etc etc. And me? Well, of course I was looking forward to seeing deer...but I was more excited/anxious to see a BEAR! Now, our friend's parents had been to Canada only a few months earlier and had seen about 5 or 6 bears just by driving around the rockies, so we were expecting big things as far as bear sightings were concerned. And we looked for them everywhere we went. In fact, we actually went driving around the small towns we stayed in at dusk trying to seek them out! 'Wildlife watch'.

And I was on the edge of my seat the whole time. Because what if we actually did come across a bear? A real, huge, scary big bear!? What if it was by the side of the road? Would we stop at a respectful distance, or would we drive straight past it, hoping to God that it wouldn't jump out in front of our car (they are like Kangaroos over there, except they cause much worse damage!).

On our Wildlife Watch drives we indeed spotted so many magnificant beasts, elk were coming out our ears. We really wanted to see a moose and a bear, but we just kept spotting massive elk bucks. We could get so close to them too - Greg took the below photo from maybe only 10m away! And they can be dangerous too - as can Kangeroos. See those antlers? They have a good use for idiot tourists annoying them too much! Let me show you a pic of how gorgeous they are, and you can rightfully judge us for our lack of respect by the end of the first week! 'Oh great! Another elk buck. Where are the moose? Where are the bears!?'

 Boring!

So as we neared the end of our rockies tour (which was at the beginning of our trip), we heard from a tour guide that he lived in Canada for 4 years before he first sighted a bear and our disappointment was heavy. We forgot about seeing the bears. Well, when I say we forgot, perhaps I mean we gave up on actually seeing a bear. They were always in my mind though, I didn't forget them for one second. Anytime we stepped out of the car, I was at the ready to protect the bite-sized Lucy at all costs. And there were constant and very real warnings everywhere about the bears too. We saw a sign that stated 'to go beyond this point you MUST have 4 or more people in a group'! My mind was full of bear related questions. If the bears den got covered over by an avalanche while the bear was hybernating, would the bear be able to breathe? And do bears mate for life and carry on as a family or do they just find a new partner each year? Do they hybernate together? Were bears like snakes in Australia (meaning that snakes are common, but rarely are actually seen). Much to Gregs amusement, then frustration, I voiced all these questions (and many many more!) out loud, to which I got very little answers! 

And then it happened! It was our 3rd last day in Canada. The end of a very long trip during which we had not even spotted a bear from a distance. And we spoke to man who told us very matter of factly that if we wanted to see bears, just go to this place at an inlet from the ocean and they would be there, filling up on the salmon swimming upstream in preparation for their winter hybernation! As if it were that easy!!! And we almost didn't take that 45 minute drive to the location mentioned...but thankfully we took a risk and did so. And we saw our very first Black Bear as we drove down to the hatchery alongside this inlet. I was beside myself. Greg was amazed! We were so happy! We had been reassured by the hatchery staff that because there would be so much food to keep the bears attention that they wouldn't be bothered by us at all, that we could actually get quite close to them and view them from just the other side of the river. And that it was safe with Lucy too. 

Now, it did run through our minds that perhaps we would be in the news the following day...those dickhead arrogant Austalian tourists (AND stupid first time parents!) who thought they could get close to one of the most dangerous wild animals in the world and live to tell the tale. Those poor people who got mauled and their baby taken too! So Greg thought he'd check it out. You should have seen the looks on our faces. We were excited and also terrified, elated and nervous all at once. I told him I loved him....just in case. And then some locals arrived, climbed out of their car nonchallantly and walked close to where the bears would be. So Greg followed and then signalled for me to come too - I left Lucy in the car initially, then took her out once we established that the bears didn't really care that we were within attacking distance! 

And although it sounds like the most dangerous thing in the world, it was actually okay. And the most amazing experience of our entire Canadian trip. To see those bears, so huge and magestic, swatting massive salmon right out of the water onto the banks just like a John West commercial was the most awe inspiring moment. Like we were now privy to a secret world that no zoo could ever show you. There were no fences. Nothing between them and us. It was completely exhillerating...and honestly the most scared I have ever been in my life. Our hearts were beating so fast, our eyes darting around to make sure those giants didn't have us surrounded at any point in time. And we were blessed to see a mother and her cub, that would have been born around Lucy's birthday too...like we were living parralel existences. 

Mumma and cub

We were so glad we listened to that man and took a chance by getting out of our car, although without the locals who turned up and acted as our protectors and tour guides, there is no way we would have got Lucy out of the car. We saw seven bears including the mumma and cub, some large daddy bears, other smaller bears. All bigger than us though. And you couldn't wipe the grins off our faces for days to come.

Big Papa!

Occasionally, I have nightmares that this bear turns towards us and attacks. I suppose we didn't walk away from that encounter completely unscarred. But who else can say they have witnessed such amazing scenes in nature? 

And as if Canada was laughing at our disbelief of the bears, the following day at Whistler we saw another bear trundle across the slopes of Whistler mountain, within veiwing distance from our room balcony. We would have been so excited just to see that! Yet because of the day before, we were now the nonchallant. Meh! Another bear. We almost touched the ones on Vancouver Island. This Whistler bear has nothing on them! 

Ciao for now, 

LG, Life's Good!

 

Everyone is a little OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)

It just has to be THIS way!

I used to fancy myself completely flexible, interchangeable and certainly non-committal. I was the one who didn't need things to be done in any certain order, nor did I require specific processes or methods to be followed when completing tasks. I marvelled at those pedantic folk who had their own little reasons for needing things 'just so'. It was beyond me how anyone could possibly be that organised to do it the same way each time. I was incredulous to realise that others went one step more to be so observant that they would notice if someone did that task (whatever the task was) in the non-preferred method. And then I was absolutely baffled when they cared enough to point out that the other person could be doing it a little better by doing it their way.

Why so surprised? Because I can't be arsed! I couldn't care how Greg hangs the washing, I am simply grateful that he does. And I don't really care which way we go to get to a location, because as long as we get there, I couldn't give a rats! And I wouldn't bother to explain how I would prefer it, even if I did have a preference because its too hard to explain my logic. Basically, I'm a lazy doer, lazy observer and lazy conversationalist.

But those who care, man am I impressed by them! They really care about the stuff that just doesn't actually make a difference in the world. Does it really make a difference the order in which you get dressed everyday, as long as you end up in all your clothes? And does it really calm you down to know you have switched the light on, then off again, and then on again before sitting down? Now I know there are those out there who actually struggle with this as a real mental illness. Please forgive me for making light of your situation in such a blaze fashion...I am more aiming my commentary at those who are at the lower end of the scale, and I hope it by pondering this phenomenon I am not offending you.

Because I come across those who have their preferences, I am in awe of their attention to detail and their commitment to the cause, whatever it may be. And I have discovered some very funny little traits of my dear friends and family over the years. Some are as simple as pressing the car remote lock several times as they walk off just to ensure they have definitely locked their vehicle. Then there are the normal household ones, like how someone prefers their veggies to be cooked, which timer to use (microwave or stove) or what channel the TV should be left on before they go to bed so they don't have to change it in the morning. And then there are the very amusing ones....like making sure the lip of your disposable cup lid is directly opposite the seam of the paper cup...EVERY TIME! And completely nuding up to do number twos, EVERY TIME! You know who you are, and I want you to know this is my favourite OCD tendency of all.

They say everyone is on the OCD scale somewhere, we all have a little something we do.  But I didn't think I had anything - until this afternoon! I have finally discovered my thing! And it isn't anything big or complicated. It is as simple as making sure when I put the cutlery into the dishwasher basket, that each little section has a knife, fork and spoon in it, until I run out of cutlery. Because once, two spoons tucked together (they were spooning!) and the inside of their spooning cuddle didn't come out clean. So now, no spoon can be with another. And as a result the forks and knives much suffer in silence and solitude too! So there you have it - I do have something that has to be done just this way.

And I actually feel a little saddened that I too fit into the norm. I had hoped to be in the outside of the scale, that perhaps I was that one person who didn't have OCD in me at all. I mean, there is a lot to be said for finding the most efficient way to do something. But I just usually forget how I did it last time, so no process or particular activity prevails. But here I am on the boring end of the spectrum with my dishwasher particulars. I kind of wished I had a few more interesting little things. I'm sure I will discover more and more over time, and I'll keep you updated.

Let me know if you have any OCD traits - however embarrassing or boring they might be.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Hobby Audition #1 - ZUMBA!

It will be the fastest 45 minutes of exercise you ever do........!

I think I have been a quitter for much of my life. As a kid/teenager I took piano lessons, jazz ballet (off and on), clarinet lessons, joined a marching band, did singing lessons, swimming club and started up several other hobbies I thought I'd like but didn't. Like going to the gym. But that's for another day. Anyway, I gave up a lot of these activities because I didn't want to put the hours of practise in that was required of me. I'd rather play with the kids in my street, read a book, watch TV, anything but do my practise. I also had this approach to homework. Although, whenever I completed something that I put some effort into, I felt a great sense of reward and often achieved pretty good results.

My quitting habit has carried through into my grown up life, and can be seen in many different lights. I can't tell you how many appointments, coffee dates, dinner plans and/or social events I have quit (cancelled, not turned up to, couldn't find the energy to get to) over the years. And please, for those reading this who I may have cancelled on once or 500 times during our friendship, take note: it is not you, it's me. I simply can't get out of the house some days. I don't know whether its because I mentally don't have the strength, or if physically I am fatigued, but sometimes it is all too hard.

And don't even get me started on all the crash diets, exercise programs, gym memberships etc etc etc.

So, immediately after I posted my blog last week, I regretted telling you all that I was planning to try Zumba! After I posted that blog, I thought to myself "well, now you can't get out of it!". Because honestly, the old me would have made any excuse in the book to not go. I couldn't go because of Lucy. I couldn't go because Greg needed to work late. Because I was tired and hadn't slept a wink in the past week. Because I didn't have appropriate clothes. And so on.

But the new me was honest. I told you what I wanted to do. And I was actually looking forward to it! This is one of the more obvious results of my hypnosis for a healthy lifestyle. The peace in my head once I decide to do something is bliss. The excuses don't run thick and fast anymore. And I actually look forward to my new choice, rather than shy away from it.

So all day yesterday I was busting with anticipation... what would it be like? Now, as I mentioned previously, my sister in law KJ is the instructor, so I couldn't slack off! It wasn't just some random class where I knew nobody. I had to do my best! In my excitement, I turned up too early and had to sit in my car for 25 minutes waiting for everyone else to arrive! Oops!

And you know what? For someone who always just assumed they had lost more grace and coordination with each kilogram gained, I owned it! I couldn't believe how quickly and easily I could take up the steps. In fact I was delighted that as I moved, my love of dance came flooding back. And I just listened to the music and got my groove on. I felt hell sexy, shaking my hips and stepping it out with shimmys and grapevines! And the best part of the whole thing!? There were no mirrors to show me what I really looked like, so in my mind I was the perfect reflection of coordination and skill that KJ displayed. I WILL be going every week, it is so enjoyable to just forget everything else, focus on the body and getting it moving in ways it hasn't for ages.

And I am just so proud of myself. Since KJ started up her Zumba classes early last year I have always said I'd like to go but haven't. And I had quite valid reasons (being pregnant, not being able to walk etc). But since I had Lucy and got my strength back, I have never been quite brave enough to just go. So I want to thank my blog readers. It isn't that anyone actually suggested Zumba. But I feel that by writing about my challenge in finding something for me to enjoy, I have been able to really remember what I enjoy doing and how I could use that today. It wasn't until writing this blog that I remembered I used to enjoy dancing. I had forgotten all about my ability to move, the rhythm in my bones, the beat of the music that makes me groove. And the fact that you guys are still reading along just encourages me further to be more and more honest with you about my struggles and my achievements.

So if there is something that you want to give a go, but haven't had the balls to do so yet JUST DO IT! I hope you can understand that overcoming your fears provides so much satisfaction, so much joy and pride that it is well worth it. Even if you don't enjoy the very thing you want to try, just giving it a go will do you the world of good.

Yesterday on some daytime TV show I heard a man talking about self-esteem. He said that people become smaller or bigger in their own eyes depending on how they live life. And if you do a few things each day that you would want your 'better-self' to do, you will grow in your own eyes to become more and more the man/woman you want to be. If you wished you were a cleaner person, doing the vacuuming will help you to respect yourself more. It is a small task, yet you will like what you have done, and you will be a cleaner person that day. (I need to vacuum today!) If you want to be fitter, going for a walk will increase your image of yourself becoming a healthy person. And if you want to be brave, trying the very thing you have been putting off will allow you to believe in yourself and know that you have given something new (and scary) a go. You will probably end up happy, inspired and excited to go again!

So tell me what it is you have in the back of your mind, be brave enough to name it publicly. Then go and do it. Use the public admission as inspiration, and come back to report what you have achieved! You can do it!!! 

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Sleep Deprivation...Ah, That Old Chestnut

It's a form of torture...this sleep deprivation!

I worked shift work from 19 to 22 years old, mostly working the night shift (11pm - 7am) with the same group of people every week. We worked about 5 nights a week, including weekends. And I loved it. But over time I came to realise that it was taking a toll...on my body, my mind and more importantly, on my social life! I remember specifically when I had to leave one of Greg's birthday parties at 10.30pm and it sucked knowing that everyone was kicking on without me. But I had some good friends on the night shift, and we enjoyed chatting the nights away.

I used to be amazed that I made it home safely for another day, because by the time 7am rolled around I was so tired, my body just switched into automatic and all of a sudden I was home...having not noticed any of the drive to get there. I distinctly remember one particular birthday of Greg's when I was absolutely, beyond ridiculously, exhausted. I had volunteered to undergo the Bronzed Medallion course for a camp I was going on in the summer, so I had just completed 2 full days of swimming, swimming and more swimming to prove my physical worth. So you know that feeling that you get of tiredness, hunger and the need to crawl into bed for a lie down after a day at the pool? I had that times a THOUSAND! Oh, and did I mention that I had also completed a night shift between these 2 days? So all day Wednesday I was at the course, swimming my little heart out. I went home and slept for 3 hours, ate dinner and headed off to work for the night. I got home at 7.30am, ate breakfast and went and swam my little heart out for all of Thursday, which was a much more vigorous day, with testing of endurance included in the program. And would you believe it was Greg's birthday too?

So after I finished on Thursday, I went around to Greg's house to spend the evening with him. I fell asleep on the lounge within minutes. He woke me when it was time to leave for dinner. We were trying out a new place in town, and when my chicken schnitzel came out half raw, it was all I could do to not burst into tears. Poor Greg. Happy Birthday my love...here, have a wrecked, emotional mess.

But I must thank my years of night shifts for I feel it has put me in good stead to be able to sleep whenever I need to, regardless of the time of day, and cope relatively well when sleep is lacking. Which is handy for our current situation (although, can you call your daughter your 'situation?'). Now it must be said that Lucy is a fantastic baby. We have been very lucky with her, she is a girl of simple needs. Until recently it was a 3 step process to fixing her. If she was cranky we either feed her, change her nappy, or put her to sleep. And in the beginning, she slept through at 5 weeks old and continued to do so for the next 3 months!!! AMAZING!

Yet no matter how much preparation you can have and no matter how conditioned you think you are, new parents must all feel the same way at some point in time. Just completely buggered! Lucy hasn't slept through the night for a very long time now, and her nights range from 2 to 5 get ups. Which isn't great for her, or me. But we just keep trucking..

It had me thinking as I settled her in the rocking chair for what felt like the hundredth time last night/this morning. I used to be one of those people who didn't know how I would be with a baby, because I really needed my sleep to function. How quickly the body adjusts, especially when you are actually needed by someone who depends on you. I am certainly more irritable, snappy, emotional and closer to tears than normal, but I am still standing each day. I am surviving, with very little effort on my own behalf to do so, somehow you just have what you need to get through.

We all know that new parents are amongst those with little sleep. But I think I was worse off when shift working. Had me wondering what other types of situations could compare. Chronic pain, insomnia, illness, caring for another, anxiety and so many others. And then I thought about how it effects different people. For me, all emotions are magnified and tears are never far away (happy or sad). Greg experiences headaches. Lucy gets cranky.

I'm interested to hear how you respond to lack of sleep, for whatever the reason. It will keep me sane in the middle of the night to think you how you would respond if you were me.

So what'll it be? Remote in the microwave? Can't remember why you went downtown? Do you throw plates? Chop neighbours flowers for your vase? Spill it all, and give me some amusement in my time of need.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good

Shake Your Body!!!

So you want to get moving?!

Getting back to the original reason for creating this blog - to find a hobby. Now, it doesn't escape me that in creating a blog to find a hobby, a have found a hobby in blogging itself! Creative writing has never really been something I've thought to explore, but have always enjoyed stretching my legs with by writing emails to friends, being creative at work trying to convince bosses to approve all sorts of things, even writing references for colleagues. A friend at a former job called it my 'witchcraft'!

I'm quite taken by my blog. I have enjoyed jotting down whatever pops into my head on the day, without any forethought or planning, I just let my fingers do the talking. And I am so humbled and delighted that you are reading it! I would get satisfaction from just writing, but to know people are reading, well that brings me great joy! So thanks for reading along, I hope you keep up your daily read during the working week.

But I still wish to continue finding another hobby - one that gets me up and moving. The blog kind of has me house bound for an hour a day, an enjoyable hour none the less, but an hour just the same. I'd like something that encourages movement. So I recommence my search today by googling the meaning of hobby, and this is what Wikipedia tells me: A hobby is a regular activity or interest that is undertaken for pleasure, typically done during ones leisure time.

Hmmmmm, must create some leisure time. I hear you laughing out there, husbands of stay at home wives! Leisure time hey!? What do you do all day if not enjoy your leisure time!? ;) I know, we are the lucky ones. However, between all Lucy requirements, play times and just general protection of the crawling baby, plus the occasional housework task here and there, and now my hour each weekday on my blog, I couldn't really name an assigned time that would be devoted as my own leisure time.

When I began reading this description of hobby (before I got to the leisure part) I thought perhaps I could classified Lucy as my hobby? Most days it is most pleasurable to be at her beckoned call, feeding, bathing, playing and supervising her. Or maybe housework? But then I counted the housework out....that would require 'regular' activity. I need some kind of chart or something to tell me where I am up to, and then some kind of energy drink to get me motivated to do it. So no, neither of those things could classify as hobbies. I enjoy reading in my leisure time, certainly not as often as I used to before Lucy came along, but still it's there. But it's not what I want in a hobby either.

So I have decided to be brave and jump into something I have wanted to do for quite some time...but have had all the excuses in the book to allow me to avoid it. I can't cause I'm pregnant. I can't because I can't leave Lucy at dinner time. I can't because because because because becaaaaaause! But too bad all you haters in my head, I'm doing it anyway!

It's ZUMBA!!! My sister in law is a certified Zumba instructor, now also doing aerobics and body sculpt classes. So I am going to give Zumba a go, once a week, for a month and see how I like it! OLE! That will certainly get me moving! Hopefully the rhythm in these bones still hears that beat, and does me proud. (I have listed her details below for any that are interested in attending her classes.)

So I wonder if my dance background (can you call it that if you did 3 years of Jazz Ballet when you where in primary school?) will help me pick it up quickly. I wonder if my face will be bright red within minutes. I wonder what to wear. I wonder if anyone I know will be there. I wonder how sore I will be the next day. I wonder if I will want to go back or have to drag myself back. Shut up negative thoughts! I'm doing this whether you like it or not, and I'm damn well going to love every second of my LEISURE TIME!  So there!

Let me know if you have given Zumba a go, and what your thoughts were on this dance fitness craze!!! I can't wait to tell you how I go!

KJ's Weekly Fitness Classes
Monday 5.45-6.30pm AEROBICS! 
Monday 6.30-7.15pm BODY SCULPT!
Tuesday 5.45-6.30pm ZUMBA!!! 
Letchworth Community Centre - enquiries 0416478507
Classes are $10 each but go to 2 or more classes in a week and pay just $15!

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good

I'd Never Trade Child Birth.....

A Woman's Great Fear

When my friend told me that giving birth to her first child was the most profoundly wonderful and empowering moment in her whole entire life, I laughed in her face, called her a sicko, and told her she was nuts. I had many friends who had given birth, I had heard the horror stories of pain like you have never experienced, babies with giant heads getting stuck and scars downstairs that never heal. Don't mention the possibility of doing a poo right there on the delivery table! That's right boys, it happens in most cases! I told her that only when my need for children overshadowed my fear of child birth, would I consider getting pregnant.

And then it happened. One day, I was late. And instead of the normal panic that I felt, a little bud of excitement was present. And when it turned out that my calculations were incorrect and Aunt Flo arrived the following evening, I cried (with both PMS and with disappointment). This is how I discovered I was finally ready!

But being ready, and realising at a later date that I was indeed pregnant, were two completely different feelings! I was over the moon excited, and slightly startled to think that now it (the baby) was in there, it definitely had to come out. Oh my! And so began the 9months of growing fear that most first time mothers feel... as that fateful day draws closer and closer.

3months before my big day arrived, my friend had her baby. I visited her the following day and she was still slightly shell shocked. But she told me that it was 'completely do-able', just that last part was tough. So I was encouraged. But that bravery left me as the day drew closer and closer and my pelvis became worse and worse. You see, I was unable to walk for the final 4months of my pregnancy, due to ligament, bone and alignment issues that were increasingly worse as time progressed. So in my mind, all I could envision was a tough labour, followed by emergency surgery because my body had literally split open and I needed to be sown back together. It was hard for me to imagine a positive experience.

But imagine my surprise when that is exactly what I got! I had been in chronic pain for some time due to my pelvis, so my threshold was already primed for intense pain. Greg and I were amused that between contractions, I was just the same old Lauren, but during contractions, I looked more and more like the ladies in the movies: groaning, throwing my head around, moving around trying to find a comfortable position.

When it was time to leave for the hospital, I was mortified to see our neighbours out the front of their house. I had been vomiting all morning, and between contractions I practically had to run down the stairs to make it before I either threw up or the next one started. Greg was amazing through the whole thing. He had two jobs - make sure I was drinking and going to the loo, and keep telling me what I great job I'm doing. He excelled at both!

I spent time in the bath at the hospital, which felt like heaven to me. Like a massive big heat pack had been placed all over my body! Aaaaah! And all of a sudden we were at the business end, things were extremely tough and then it was time to push. I had a funny moment when my midwife inspected me and said 'alright Lauren, this is going to happen very soon!', and just for clarification I said 'what is?'. She and Greg both looked at each other, slightly startled and she said in her kindest voice 'ah, you're going to have a baby Lauren, that's why you are in hospital!'. Thanks Captain Obvious! I know that! I just wanted to ensure she didn't mean okay, now you are going to get another contraction quite soon, or okay, you are going to have you baby quite soon, at least by midnight!!! (It was 4.30pm!) Low and behold, with some pushing, yelling, gas and effort, I did what I had spent the past 9 months worrying about.

And I did it all to the soundtrack of the girl in the next room, doing the same thing. She'd scream, I'd scream louder. She'd grunt, I'd grunt harder. She'd yell in frustration, I'd yell in fierce competition! And imagine my annoyance when I heard the cry of her tiny little person as they entered the world - and as I rode yet another hardcore contraction, hanging on for dear life. Finally with absolutely no restraint or control, I punched out our tiny person into the world with such force that the midwife had to throw her arm down on the bed to ensure the baby didn't slide right off the end and onto the floor! Oops!

It was, by far, the worst pain I have ever endured. I remember thinking in the bath that I felt sorry for our child, as they wouldn't have any siblings...surely I couldn't do this again! Was it hell? No, not for me. I got into my zone and focused and welcomed each contraction, knowing that it was one less I had to deal with. And Greg was amazing, staying calm and positive the whole time, believing in my capabilities.

Was it as bad as what they say? Probably. But would I do it again? In a heart beat. Because I would never trade that moment in time, knowing that I had just achieved the greatest thing I ever would. I had delivered our baby girl into the world, healthy, screaming and bright. I had done my job, my world was okay, and I could still walk. I love that day, more than any other day in my life. I cannot believe I could do such a thing and live to see the other side.

Would I want to punish my husband by sending him through the same if I could. No. I wouldn't trade that moment for the world. Not the kicking, the sleepless nights, the indigestion, the chronic pain, or the 4months of not walking. I would keep it all, to have that incredible moment to feel that I was the most powerful person I had ever met. To realised my potential as a woman at the most basic level.

  The most precious moments in the world

All the pain in the world couldn't take that away from me. Strong. Fierce. Capable. Focused. Amazing.

Ciao for now,

LG, Life's Good!

Blood Runs Thicker Than Water... Or Does It?

Who is in your tribe?

The Great Big Pa Father. Sounds like some kind of warrior name, doesn't it? Perhaps a mythical, magical beast of epic proportions. Perhaps even a name for the big guy up in the sky? Well, it's none of those things. It's my Grandpa. When Ben met him (my cousins son, aged 2) met him, they explained that Grandpa was his great grandfather, Ben declared him to be the Great Big Pa Father, and it has stuck ever since. I suppose in a way, he is the Booth tribal leader. The Great Big Pa Father (GBPF) lives on the central coast, so we don't get to see him often but my dad brought him down to QBN for a week and it was such a wonderful time! It got me thinking of how important family is, but also I wondered why.

Does it strike anyone else as strange that you are to automatically be devoted and loyal to a group of people because you have something in common with them, whether it be a health history or a name. That somehow, knowing that you come from the same bloodline makes you connected in more than just the physical sense? That because you share a common ancestor you are now assigned to a group of people for the rest of your life? Or in the case of adoption, is it simply the power of the same name?

Society tells us to be loyal to our family members above and beyond anyone else, that blood runs thicker than water. But here I am pondering if they deserve such loyalties from me. Have they always given me the same loyalty in return? Have they always loved, supported and cared for me throughout my life? And have they done this is any way that is different from my close friends, who I consider to be as good as family?

And what happens if you don't actually like your family members? Must you still be loyal if they are actually a bunch of tosses? Should you still love them and continue to be there for them, even if they abuse you, mentally, emotionally or physically?

I can be quite harsh and my perspective often swings into a black and white mode. I have 'broken up' with friends previously because I found them to be a negative force in my life. In my opinion, life is already hard enough without surrounding yourself with people who bring you down. So I moved on and left them behind. It wasn't a matter of a grudge, or forgiveness, simply that I could no longer be around them without being affected negatively by them. Probably one of the more selfish things I have ever done, but I felt like I already have to deal with enough BS without their dramas too. I have been lucky that I have never felt this way about a family member.... I'm not sure if that ultimate loyalty would prevail.

But haven't we all heard of the gay son being kicked out of home? And the racist parents disowning their daughter because she married an Pakistani man? And the child celebrity divorcing their parents so they can live however they wish? So this family loyalty can be switched off, at the right price?

I wonder what you price would be? Your husband cheating on you with your sister? Your mother using your name to obtain credit cards? Your father having another child with the girl he is dating, a girl younger than you? A family inheritance fight? Differing ways we deal with grief? A father running over his child in the driveway?

I recommend, perhaps controversially, to judge each and every person in your life based on their own merit, to ensure that you are being loyal to the right people. That the people you surround yourself with are a constant source of support and love to you, but make sure that you are offering this in return. Because like I said earlier, life is hard enough without your own tribe pulling you down.

Now I am blessed with a very close knit group of extremely compassionate, generous, loving, supportive friends who are worthy of my love and I would give them just as much loyalty as my own sister or brother. I also married into a wonderful family, whose love and acceptance I have been grateful for, and returned, since day one. I have their loyalty and they have mine.

Oh, and do I think that my own family have a little something special? Yes I do. I come from a wonderful tribe of talented, driven, happy, openly loving, supportive and insightful individuals. But I believe it is due to their own credit that they deserve all my respect, love and loyalty, not simply because we share genetics or a name. I am proud to belong to them, and proud to have them belong to me.

Here are some of my tribe last week, all getting together to say hi to the Great Big Pa Father. 

Lucy and I, my sis-in-law KJ, Dad (Lucy's Pa), my cousin Rose and her neice Olivia, my sister Jane, my cousin Vonnie (Olivia's mum), the Great Big Pa Father and my brother Mick, xoxox

I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on this one, write a comment if a thought strikes you...and I also welcome any comments that argue a different perspective. 

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Yes Man (Yes Chick?)

Just take a leap of faith!

You know how everyone remembers where they were on 9/11? Or when you first heard the news of Princess Di's death? Well I also remember distinctly the very moment when, out of boredom at work, I checked the news.com.au website and saw the first report of Steve Irwin's death! Now this was big news... he was a national hero/terror and everyone had something to say about it. Greg was a big fan of Steve's so when I heard the news, I called to break it to him. We still can't talk about it to this day.

For Christmas the following year, Greg got the Steve Irwin book, written by his wife Terri Irwin. She spoke of her husband as an adventurer, someone who constantly challenged her to step out of her comfort zone. I thought about this book recently because Terri says that she made a conscious choice right at the beginning of her relationship with Steve to always just say yes. By saying yes, she found she would experience the most amazing moments, laughs, excitement and joy! She could have said no, and experience an early night in bed instead but by taking each opportunity offered to her, her life took on a whole new meaning.

This attitude came into play for me a few years ago, when I travelled with Greg and 4 of our closest friends to New Zealand for (almost) 10 days. Now, Greg and I are last minute packers. When we got married, and we were to leave for our 4 week honeymoon on Monday evening, we packed on Monday afternoon. When we go to the coast for the weekend, we pack ten minutes before we leave. Granted since Lucy arrived we have to take a little longer to ensure we haven't forgotten anything for her, but it is still in the same crazy last minute style of pandemonium.

As I was madly packing toiletries 2 hours before we were supposed to leave (driving to Sydney that night and flying out first thing the following day) I realised that we only had shampoo and conditioner in big 1 litre bottles. Clearly I wasn't going to be lugging them across to NZ, so I had a genius thought! Just transfer some into these smaller bottles. First bottle, no worries. Second bottle, a little hard to get the lid off. Hmmmm, what to do! Oh! Here are some scissors, I will simply use them to just lever the lid off and OOOUCH! Aw shit! I stabbed myself right into my pointer finger on my left hand! Crapola!

I quickly wrapped a towel around it and went to find Greg for a little help. I showed him the damage and we assessed it with interest.

G: Oh, what have you done!?
L: Surely it will be okay with a band aid? It's only a tiny cut.
G: Oh, I don't know....Well, I suppose I have done worse at work over the years.
L: It doesn't hurt that bad, I'll maybe just clean it and chuck a band aid on and we can pretend it never happened?
G(skeptically): Well, okay....as long as you can bend it properly it should be fine....
L: OH GOD! I can't bend it! Oh my!!! And what is that little white worm thingy!?! Eeeeeew!

So I instructed Greg strictly to keep packing(!) and promptly drove myself up to the Emergency Room. I was fortunate...no one else was there! So straight in I went. The doctor took a look at my no longer bending finger and announced I would require surgery. 'Oh, well can I have it in 2 weeks? I am going to NZ tomorrow!' No! Apparently it was urgent and needed to be done in the next few days.

So Greg cancelled flights with doctors certificates, and we promised our friends we'd still be there as soon as we could be. And thanks to amazing action at the Canberra Hospital due to the wonderful doctor at QBN Emergency, I was operated on the following day. I felt amazing when I woke up - with some juice and a sandwich, they sent me home with some excellent pain killers and anti-inflammatories. Greg watched me like a hawk, waiting for me to flag, but I didn't. I remained sure that we should drive to Sydney that night and fly the following morning. So he booked the flights, we drive to Sydney, flew out the next morning and met our friends in NZ for our (now) 9 day holiday of a lifetime!

 Old Swannie - my cast that always created conversation

And I decided from the beginning that I wouldn't let it ruin my holiday at all. So if people were going out, I was there (not drinking, hardcore painmeds gave me my buzz). The only thing I opted not to do was the bunji jumping that 3 of my friends did. But even when I was tired, and my hand hurt, and I could have easily gone to bed, I partied on with my buddies, danced up a storm at World Bar and just loving life. We all have so many memories from that trip, and the pics are amazing...all with my funny looking 'swanlike' cast featuring. I thought of Terri Irwin, not missing out on anything because she simply said yes. So I did too, and have never regretted it for a second.

 

 As we arrived on our first night, our best friends were delighted to see my amusing cast shape, 

and wished they had one too.

I have a wicked scar on my finger now, and even after the surgery and many months of physio...it still doesn't bend. My little tribute to the incorrect use of scissors will be with me forever.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Old Habits Died Easy!

When I was your age....

When I was a kid, my siblings and I would play all the normal kiddie games.  Rollerskates were my favourite activity, followed by shooting netballs with Jane in the driveway and using the swing set as pretend high bars in my efforts to become the next Nadia.

I played netball for years and years - starting when I was in kindy and retiring when I was 16. I loved it. But it was netball that caused my fear of hurting myself to blossom. Every weekend up at the courts, some poor girl would be carried off to the first aid sector, with a sprained ankle, dislocated knee or jarred fingers. Of course, I had my own set of injuries from netball, as did my sister. And in the end I decided that the risk was too high. I no longer wanted to play something that could see me injured. I wish that I had just realised that sometimes when you push your body hard, it occasionally gets hurt but that is okay cause you recover and just keep going.

I'm too scared to play netball anymore.

I also excelled at swimming carnivals. Mum signed Jane and I up for swimming club on Wednesday nights - but we only went a few times, it was apparently too cold. But despite not training, I still did very well at backstroke...doing well at my school level, then zone level, then I got to go to regionals! I loved swimming too! Perhaps I could have been the next Steph Rice with a little practice?

I did Jazz Ballet as a child, and continued that off and on through my primary school years - until I grew boobs.....and was the only one in my whole class who had them. I remember in year 6, performing a dance routine with the other girls in my troupe for the whole school. And I distinctly remember being absolutely mortified at how obvious my new boobs were in my white leotard, especially amongst the other flat chested girls. I'm pretty sure I know who those little randy year 6 boys were staring at during that dance.

As an early teenage, I was highly aware of the two expanding lumps on my chest, and people constantly brought them to my attention. The was one guy at school a couple of years above me, who would always comment loudly if I ever was stupid enough to walk past him, saying horrid things like 'see that chick? Look at the size of her boobs! I wonder if she lets anyone touch them?' Yes, I can just hear you all saying 'Oh Lauren, pay him no heed. He is clearly a wanker who will probably end up in gaol'. But does that make the 13yr old Lauren feel any more confident when she walks passed? No. And what about the time I flogged a Mars Bar from Karabar Shops on my way home from a friends, and I got busted? The man approached me at the corner of the building, I thought I had gotten away with it! He suggested that if I let him touch my boobs he wouldn't dob me in. I threw the Mars in his face, told him my dad was a cop and he'd better watch himself, and ran most of the way home...in tears. Stupid boobs! Why must they be such a burden to young girls?

So I found a solution to reducing this unwanted attention. Don't wear tight fitting clothes. Don't go to Karabar. Don't walk past that dickhead at school if it could be helped. And make yourself unattractive in other ways so they don't even take a second look.

Have you ever seen an undercut? On a girl? The word sexy runs screaming from the room and in saunters the descriptions 'butch' and 'tough'. Add black hair, gothic makeup, baggy ill fitting clothes and an attitude of 'don't even think about talking to me' and my transformation was complete. How little did I realise at the time that trying to hide my boobs amongst a growing waistline was actually also increasing them in size too! Oops!

I no longer played netball. I didn't swim. I didn't dance. I stopped all my activities for reasons mostly surrounding my insecurities about my developing body, turning me into a beautiful, curvy young woman. I wish now that I had the confidence back them to realise that dickheads will come and go in your life but there is no need to give them such power over your life, changing hobbies and images to prevent attention.

Talking over the weekend, my friends and I realised the importance of teaching our children about respect. Self respect, and respect for others. It is most important to teach our young boys to respect women. And to teach our young girls to respect themselves. Yes, and to respect boys too. My parents tried their best to teach us these important qualities, but I was still a struggling teenager. Imagine how much harder it would have been without such loving parents.

Fathers, be the type of man that you want your daughter to marry, because she will look up to you and see your relationship with your spouse to be how she should be treated. Make sure you are a man who treats your partner with love, respect, loyalty, kindness and support.

Mothers, be the most self respecting woman you can be, so that your children see a strong, compassionate, healthy, loving and engaging woman that they will look up to. Your daughters will watch you and see how you are treated, how you treat yourself. And your sons will note how you allow yourself to be treated by others and will learn to treat you like that.

Live the life you want for your children... for they will watch and learn.

With the girls in music class...maybe if I slump you won't see my chest? 

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

The Imperfect Person

Pick you battles!

I have long believed that I am mostly aware of my faults. Very rarely does it come as a surprise to me if I am criticised....I might even agree. What? I am pretty emotional. Correct. I talk to much at work. Correct. I eat too much. Correct. I judge others quite harshly. Correct. I am forgetful and vague. Correct. I expect a lot of others (perhaps too much) and am disappointed when I they don't meet my expectations. Correct. And there are many more.

But what happens when you aren't aware of your faults? Should they be brought to your attention? Not everyone can hear them as willingly as some, and others in fact can be quite hurt by accusations of imperfection. Does it actually help to point out a fault that you have noticed in someone else? What are they going to do about it? Stop being that person with those faults? Try to change? Perhaps they can alter their behaviours to fix your problem. Or perhaps it is simply who they are and nothing can be done.

So here is the real question.....is it actually fair to bring to light these imperfections you have found so carefully with your Inspector Gadget looking glass, brushing over a fine-toothed comb over their behaviour because it simply isn't meeting your standards and expectations? Is it rude perhaps? Or is it simply letting them a need hasn't been met in your relationship - whether it be your spouse, mother, father, sister, brother, child or friend. What happens when you tell them that you have identified a problem (and it's them!) and nothing changes. Why don't they change dammit!!?! Because they shouldn't have to? Maybe it is that they actually can't. 

We are so busy looking at everyone else's flaws and seeing all the reasons that they aren't holding up their side of the bargain that we waste precious time waiting for them to change the very person they are. And I am not talking about which way the toilet paper is hanging or if you squeeze the toothpaste from the top or bottom. And soon your eyes may fill with so much pent up frustration and anger that you no longer see anything else.

So should you continue in a relationship waiting for them to change and becoming more and more upset when they can't? Or should you stop the relationship then and there, deciding that if your needs can't be met and you can no longer see the good in them that its better to forget it completely?

I'm pretty sure there is a whole other option - what about the option to readjust your own perspective? How about realising that you will never find a perfect partner or friend. And that actually, they might be annoyed at your faults at times too. Have a think about it. Have they changed? In most circumstances, probably not. They are still the same person you found yourself liking in the first place. Its you that has changed. Suddenly you no longer see them as perfect. Damn shame that. Because just yesterday, weren't they the ants pants? What happened?

I'll tell you what happened. Movies, TV, Books (I'm looking at you self-help section) and our limited understanding of other relationships around us, thinking that our friends and family members have it all sorted. That somehow, suddenly, we are missing something very important. It's our society. We are all so focused on what we don't have (keeping up with the Joneses) that we can't be happy and satisfied with what we do have.

Surely you can't go into a relationship expecting someone to change for you. If they don't have the same ideals, values and goals as you do, you can expect them to morph into your image of them. You have two choices. Man up and choose to leave if you can't bear it any longer. Or accept them for who they always have been. I'm not saying to stay sweet and just shut up if you have a problem....I am saying that you have chosen this person for many reasons, keep them in mind too. And pick your battles. Don't let everyday become a drag when there is so much joy, fun and love to be found in each other.  

A friend once told me that you can't expect someone to change for you....but equally you can't expect them to stay the same for your whole life either.

God knows I've changed, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. But thankfully, I am still loved.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!