According to my space calculator, this is the destination point - we have arrived. Celebrated by having a big party (that discipline was not mentioned at once) and writing this blog post.
Strangely, I do not feel much different from my old self. Possibly that's because I haven't actually changed. I've heard it said that you can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig... I gather that's a metaphor as I can't understand why anyone would bother putting lipstick on a pig in order to establish that lipstick does not in fact change the species of the pig whatsoever. However, this lipstick-wearing pig has picked up a couple of non-pig-type habits that are hopefully going to stick around.
The dog is generally much better fed, but the plant does have a bit of a hang-dog "knew it was too good to last" expression. Teeth are good, face is great, bed is made as always. Still haven't written to the sponsor child, though. Heck, I haven't even managed to write a blog for the last week.
On reflection, I think the biggest thing I've learned about discipline is motivation. You can talk all you like, but unless the desire to act or change is coming from a deeply held belief, then it's going to be really hard to sustain. I can kid myself that I want to be more disciplined in certain areas, but really, if I'm struggling to even remember them, it's pretty hard to get tough enough to change them.
So - as of tomorrow, I'm going to stop putting lipstick on the pig, and let the chips fall as they may. And you know what? If it turns out that I'm still a pig after all, then that's okay. Thanks for digging in with me. Stay tuned for whatever the next weird thing I decide to do is, because I like the company. :)
M xx
Friday, 29 June 2012
Friday, 22 June 2012
Day 53
One week to go!
Apparently it's bad that I'm counting down, as it means I'm going to switch instantly back to my slovenly ways... Obviously my brain is so advanced that it needs longer than sixty days to wire neurons together to form a new pathway. Or I am hard-wired to be 'efficient' (read: only doing bare minimum needed to survive).
Making the bed still has not lost the shine.
Back at the beginning of my journey, when I was wrestling with the ins and outs of the 'beauty routine' - in my case known as the 'slightly less ugly' routine - I had decided that if my skin still wasn't playing ball at the end of the dig, I was gonna open a can of Proactiv on it. Not long after, I received a very lovely and encouraging email from on of my (tens of) blog stalkers, who shall be code named 'Maid Marion' for his/her own protection from Nigerian scammers and other trolls. Maid Marion was delightful enough to suggest a much nicer, Aussie made natural skin-care company for me to try, and very generously gave me a gift voucher for some of their products. To say I was chuffed would be an understatement.
Anyway, in today's mail I received this very fantastic skincare startup from Maid Marion and ishiki-skin (see www.ishiki-skin.com) so I gave it a test drive tonight.
I can honestly say I'm not being paid very much at all to use my blog as a platform to spruik stuff... the paid endorsements just dont seem to be rolling in yet. I'm no cheating black golfer in a tick cap, after all. But I will state on the record that these products are the best, most yummy, most gorgeous things I have ever brought into contact with my face - including the sweet-smelling cheek of my newly born first child. Unreal. You have to try them. Seriously, I can't stop stroking my own forehead.
If the only thing at all that benefits me out of this whole sixty days of crazy is that I got to try these (for free! Thanks, Maid Marion!) then I will call it early: it was worth it.
Run away pimples. The sixty days have spelled out your doom.
M xx
Apparently it's bad that I'm counting down, as it means I'm going to switch instantly back to my slovenly ways... Obviously my brain is so advanced that it needs longer than sixty days to wire neurons together to form a new pathway. Or I am hard-wired to be 'efficient' (read: only doing bare minimum needed to survive).
Making the bed still has not lost the shine.
Back at the beginning of my journey, when I was wrestling with the ins and outs of the 'beauty routine' - in my case known as the 'slightly less ugly' routine - I had decided that if my skin still wasn't playing ball at the end of the dig, I was gonna open a can of Proactiv on it. Not long after, I received a very lovely and encouraging email from on of my (tens of) blog stalkers, who shall be code named 'Maid Marion' for his/her own protection from Nigerian scammers and other trolls. Maid Marion was delightful enough to suggest a much nicer, Aussie made natural skin-care company for me to try, and very generously gave me a gift voucher for some of their products. To say I was chuffed would be an understatement.
Anyway, in today's mail I received this very fantastic skincare startup from Maid Marion and ishiki-skin (see www.ishiki-skin.com) so I gave it a test drive tonight.
I can honestly say I'm not being paid very much at all to use my blog as a platform to spruik stuff... the paid endorsements just dont seem to be rolling in yet. I'm no cheating black golfer in a tick cap, after all. But I will state on the record that these products are the best, most yummy, most gorgeous things I have ever brought into contact with my face - including the sweet-smelling cheek of my newly born first child. Unreal. You have to try them. Seriously, I can't stop stroking my own forehead.
If the only thing at all that benefits me out of this whole sixty days of crazy is that I got to try these (for free! Thanks, Maid Marion!) then I will call it early: it was worth it.
Run away pimples. The sixty days have spelled out your doom.
M xx
Thursday, 21 June 2012
Day 52
Every now and then the stars align, and you find a t-shirt with something written on it that perfectly expresses how you feel about something.
Today, my stars lined up all the way to Jay Jays at Orange, where I found this superb little number on a ten dollar rack. Normally I would find myself pretty well diametrically opposed to anything written on a JayJays t-shirt, but not this one. This one is awesome.
For those who can't read past the spectacularly grungy filter on the photo, it says "If you ain't being hated, you ain't doing it right."
This pretty much sums up my view on parenting, and the discipline factor. Chances are, your kids won't much appreciate your long term view of their character. They don't give a rats that you want them to learn delayed gratification. Your kids are the centre of their own marvelous universe, and you are most likely the Death Star that stuffs up gravity from bringing everything they want to them. Sometimes, at least.
My dad (see previous posts for his infinite wisdom on child rearing and other topics) had a famous saying when I was growing up. He used to say, whenever we were whingeing about whatever evil decision head made against our wishes, "I'm not your friend, I'm your parent." Supremely irritating at the time, but I now realise the excellence of the principle. If Dad had tried to be our friend (first and foremost) when we were kids, he would have made the popular decisions that lead to anarchy, and we would most likely have ended up intolerable brats. I'm making the gross assumption that my grown-up sisters and I are at least a little easier to tolerate now than that.
Since becoming a mum, I've endured little displays of the same sort of thing from my kids, which will no doubt only get worse. I have to tell myself, when my kids try to manipulate me with words like "I don't love you anymore" and "You're not my friend", that this means I'm tough enough as a parent to cut it - I have backbone. I've said many times when thinking about how I'll parent my teenagers, that if they don't hate me at least once a week, then I'm not doing my job.
Of course, being hated is not necessarily the sole indicator of success, and the game is not to make your kids hate you for fun... It's just a sign that you aren't a total marshmallow.
Since buying the shirt, I've been thinking that maybe it applies to life beyond just parenting. If you go through your whole life, never holding an opinion strong enough to be disagreed with, if you never clash with anyone, if you are such an A-class approval addict that all you ever get is reassurance and constant encouragement, even from people who don't share any of your principles... Shouldn't that ring alarm bells? I don't want people to hate me, but I'd rather that than just be some nothing piece of fluff that never me anyone think twice. Lately, I've even found myself wanting to be offensive, to people who I think need offending, anyway. Putting yourself in the line of fire might mean you cop it from a few haters, but there's courage there, and I think that counts for something. 'Rejoice, you who are persecuted...'
Baiters gonna bait, haters gonna hate, potaters gonna potate.
M xx
Today, my stars lined up all the way to Jay Jays at Orange, where I found this superb little number on a ten dollar rack. Normally I would find myself pretty well diametrically opposed to anything written on a JayJays t-shirt, but not this one. This one is awesome.
For those who can't read past the spectacularly grungy filter on the photo, it says "If you ain't being hated, you ain't doing it right."
This pretty much sums up my view on parenting, and the discipline factor. Chances are, your kids won't much appreciate your long term view of their character. They don't give a rats that you want them to learn delayed gratification. Your kids are the centre of their own marvelous universe, and you are most likely the Death Star that stuffs up gravity from bringing everything they want to them. Sometimes, at least.
My dad (see previous posts for his infinite wisdom on child rearing and other topics) had a famous saying when I was growing up. He used to say, whenever we were whingeing about whatever evil decision head made against our wishes, "I'm not your friend, I'm your parent." Supremely irritating at the time, but I now realise the excellence of the principle. If Dad had tried to be our friend (first and foremost) when we were kids, he would have made the popular decisions that lead to anarchy, and we would most likely have ended up intolerable brats. I'm making the gross assumption that my grown-up sisters and I are at least a little easier to tolerate now than that.
Since becoming a mum, I've endured little displays of the same sort of thing from my kids, which will no doubt only get worse. I have to tell myself, when my kids try to manipulate me with words like "I don't love you anymore" and "You're not my friend", that this means I'm tough enough as a parent to cut it - I have backbone. I've said many times when thinking about how I'll parent my teenagers, that if they don't hate me at least once a week, then I'm not doing my job.
Of course, being hated is not necessarily the sole indicator of success, and the game is not to make your kids hate you for fun... It's just a sign that you aren't a total marshmallow.
Since buying the shirt, I've been thinking that maybe it applies to life beyond just parenting. If you go through your whole life, never holding an opinion strong enough to be disagreed with, if you never clash with anyone, if you are such an A-class approval addict that all you ever get is reassurance and constant encouragement, even from people who don't share any of your principles... Shouldn't that ring alarm bells? I don't want people to hate me, but I'd rather that than just be some nothing piece of fluff that never me anyone think twice. Lately, I've even found myself wanting to be offensive, to people who I think need offending, anyway. Putting yourself in the line of fire might mean you cop it from a few haters, but there's courage there, and I think that counts for something. 'Rejoice, you who are persecuted...'
Baiters gonna bait, haters gonna hate, potaters gonna potate.
M xx
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Day 51
The War on Indiscipline rages on...
Serious casualties sustained when smallest (human) member of family succumbed to strange and unfortunate virus involving fevers, copious boogers, and making noises like a seal on heat. Sleep rations are now at a minimum, and all senior members of the brigade have been doing extra night shifts. Morale among the troops is quite thin on the ground.
A few minor losses attributed to the onset of temporary insanity, produced by an attack of self-pity gas. Concentrated, but with long lasting broad-spectrum effects including chocolate binges and retail therapy. All units have now been mobilised for in excess of fifty days, and as such
Despite some strong territorial gains and inroads made in to areas known to be Laziness strongholds, the last week has seen these patches come under heavy fire, and, combined with the demands on the troops this week, sheer exhaustion has made holding this ground virtually impossible. Mass-scale retreat into better known territory seems inevitable before Friday. Dental hygiene has seen active combat for most of the past few days, and a major tactical re-think is now required.
The Officers' Mess seems to have been the target of some sort of explosive device, and a team will be sent in for the clean-up operation as soon as they can be spared.
Reserves of energy for Operation DiggingIn are at an all time low, and with them, the anticipation that this will become a peace-keeping mission in merely nine days time. As winter takes hold in the region, our troops look set to be on the offensive for longer than planned, and serious discussion about how worthwhile the operation has been will no doubt leak into media circles before long.
It is hoped that a significant turn-around in the situation will be seen in the next few days.
Over and out.
Serious casualties sustained when smallest (human) member of family succumbed to strange and unfortunate virus involving fevers, copious boogers, and making noises like a seal on heat. Sleep rations are now at a minimum, and all senior members of the brigade have been doing extra night shifts. Morale among the troops is quite thin on the ground.
A few minor losses attributed to the onset of temporary insanity, produced by an attack of self-pity gas. Concentrated, but with long lasting broad-spectrum effects including chocolate binges and retail therapy. All units have now been mobilised for in excess of fifty days, and as suchDespite some strong territorial gains and inroads made in to areas known to be Laziness strongholds, the last week has seen these patches come under heavy fire, and, combined with the demands on the troops this week, sheer exhaustion has made holding this ground virtually impossible. Mass-scale retreat into better known territory seems inevitable before Friday. Dental hygiene has seen active combat for most of the past few days, and a major tactical re-think is now required.
The Officers' Mess seems to have been the target of some sort of explosive device, and a team will be sent in for the clean-up operation as soon as they can be spared.
Reserves of energy for Operation DiggingIn are at an all time low, and with them, the anticipation that this will become a peace-keeping mission in merely nine days time. As winter takes hold in the region, our troops look set to be on the offensive for longer than planned, and serious discussion about how worthwhile the operation has been will no doubt leak into media circles before long.
It is hoped that a significant turn-around in the situation will be seen in the next few days.
Over and out.
Saturday, 16 June 2012
Day 47
Hey, mums. Ever wondered why your kids don't like you? Tired of the constant tantrums, head butting and angry behaviour? Well, after much research, I have compiled this helpful cheat sheet to help us parents get it right, 100% of the time.
You see, I have discovered that the problem with our kids is pretty much always the answers we give to their questions. So, with this helpful guide, give the right answer every time and have happy, charming little angels. No more incorrect responses. No more upset reactions. It will change your life.
Question 1: Mum, can I have a chocolate biscuit?
Answer: Yes, darling, of course. In fact, have two - and in future, don't feel like you need to ask. Here, let me move them to a lower shelf in the pantry for you, so that you don't have to drag a chair over and climb up.
Question 2: Mum, can I buy this? *holding up item in shop*
Answer: Of course not, sweetie, you don't have enough money. I will stop browsing this shop immediately and buy it for you... and remind me to start putting fifties in your piggy bank.
Question 3: Mum, how come he gets one and I don't? It's not fair.
Answer: You're so right, and I live to see the injustices of your life brought toppling down. So, to make up for this hideous mistake of the universe, I am taking it off him... and giving you a brand new one. If he cries, I will send him away to live with another family.
Question 4: Mum, what can I have to eat while dinner is cooking?
Answer: Ice-cream. Don't worry about a bowl, here's a spoon, eat out of the carton. There's only two litres left, you may as well finish it off. I'll buy more tomorrow.
Question 5: Mum, can we change the channel? I hate this news.
Answer: Me too. I was just thinking how much I wanted to watch Yo Gabba Gabba. Here, I'll pass you the remote.
Question 6: Mum, do I have to go to bed now? I'm not tired.
Answer: Fine, honey. How about we sit on the couch and I will read you stories of your choice until you feel sleepy. Then I will carry you into my bed, so if you wake in the night and need any more stories to get back to sleep, I am right there for you. Or I could sing, if you prefer singing.
Question 7: Mum, I'm bored. Can we go to the park and then McDonalds?
Answer: Okay, but sweetie, are you sure you wouldn't like to go to McDonalds first? Then you could have a little snack, just however much of your Happy Meal you want to eat, and then you could play at the park for as long as you like. It's not like I have anything else I need to get done today. After you get bored there, we could go back to McDonalds for ice-cream. I don't mind - whatever you choose.
Question 8: Mum, can I play games on your phone?
Answer: Sure, baby. Let me just divert all the calls so you don't get interrupted, I can always use a pay phone if I need to call anyone. Oh, and I'm so sorry I only have 84% battery, I accidentally used it as a phone this morning and forgot to plug it back in for you. Did you want to buy any new games? I'll just put my password in... there. Go crazy.
Question 9: Mum, can I have lollies for breakfast?
Answer: No problem, darling. You better skip brushing your teeth afterwards, though, it might ruin the lovely taste in your mouth. I'll just pack you some extra junk food in your lunch box, in case you find that the lollies haven't filled you up very well.
Question 10: Mum, I can't find my *insert important toy here*.
Answer: Oh honey, I'm so sorry that you are having to go through this. I'm stopping whatever I happen to be doing right now, and I'm going to put off my trip to the toilet so that I can find it as soon as possible for you. Don't you worry about looking for it - just stay right there and take your mind off it by watching the cartoon show that has caught your attention. I'm on the hunt. In fact, I'm calling all my girlfriends to come over and hunt, too. I'm sure I was the last person to play with it, anyway. If it doesn't show up within five minutes, we'll just pop down to the shops and buy you a new one. The electricity bill can wait, this month. Hell, I'll buy two of them, so we can keep one safe in the cupboard in case this happens again. Do you think I should get in touch with the police, just in case somebody stole it?
Now, mums. Study this sheet carefully, and I guarantee the results. You will be the BEST mum, ever.
M xx
Friday, 15 June 2012
Day 46
If you're looking for something to be impressed about, try this link: World's Youngest Black Belt in Karate.
I, for one, am impressed.
I mean, I'm pretty impressed that my own five-year-old knows how to set up a Wii console from start to finish, which is awesome because now when he asks me "Mum, can I play the Wii?" my sole contribution to the process is to say "Yep." Likewise with the x-box, and I am soooo grateful to not have to spend a half hour fiddling around in order to set the thing up to play a game that more or less involves holding down a single button for three minutes. I'm bursting with pride.
But when it comes to a five-year-old busting chops like a tiny ninja on speed, now THAT is impressive.
Best quote: “Getting a black belt is tough and normally takes five years." No kidding, honey. But I guess you didn't have five years to spare, seeing as you spent two of those learning to walk and pooping in your nappy. Craaa-zzzy.
Unlike Little Miss Ninja, I don't have a black-belt or equivalent in anything. Makes me wonder what I've wasted my 29 years doing, exactly. I am what some affectionately like to call - a "jack of all trades". Except maybe cooking. And playing Call of Duty. (Obviously I have not been chosen to answer the Call.)
There's stacks of things I can do with moderate competence. My "jack list" includes: sewing, teaching, parenting, computer fixing, riding (both horse and horse power), painting, guitar playing, and other assorted tasks. I've put enough effort in to be able to master the basics, but then I go no further. Why is that? What is the fundamental difference between a five year old who has the discipline to train karate for 2.5 hours a day (To what end?? What is the point??! It seems a lot of effort to go to just to avoid being bullied at school...) and me, who struggles to remember to change the sheets once a week?
This discipline is a strange beast.
M xx
I, for one, am impressed.
I mean, I'm pretty impressed that my own five-year-old knows how to set up a Wii console from start to finish, which is awesome because now when he asks me "Mum, can I play the Wii?" my sole contribution to the process is to say "Yep." Likewise with the x-box, and I am soooo grateful to not have to spend a half hour fiddling around in order to set the thing up to play a game that more or less involves holding down a single button for three minutes. I'm bursting with pride.
But when it comes to a five-year-old busting chops like a tiny ninja on speed, now THAT is impressive.
Best quote: “Getting a black belt is tough and normally takes five years." No kidding, honey. But I guess you didn't have five years to spare, seeing as you spent two of those learning to walk and pooping in your nappy. Craaa-zzzy.
Unlike Little Miss Ninja, I don't have a black-belt or equivalent in anything. Makes me wonder what I've wasted my 29 years doing, exactly. I am what some affectionately like to call - a "jack of all trades". Except maybe cooking. And playing Call of Duty. (Obviously I have not been chosen to answer the Call.)
There's stacks of things I can do with moderate competence. My "jack list" includes: sewing, teaching, parenting, computer fixing, riding (both horse and horse power), painting, guitar playing, and other assorted tasks. I've put enough effort in to be able to master the basics, but then I go no further. Why is that? What is the fundamental difference between a five year old who has the discipline to train karate for 2.5 hours a day (To what end?? What is the point??! It seems a lot of effort to go to just to avoid being bullied at school...) and me, who struggles to remember to change the sheets once a week?
This discipline is a strange beast.
M xx
Thursday, 14 June 2012
Day 45
Prepare for a drop in quality!
Blog blog blog... This is me writing a blog. Megsy said she needed a guest blogger for todays blog, so sorry guys i'm it.
Kind of crazy having a blank canvas. I've nearly always got something to springboard off, someone else's thought, a bible passage, a message I heard recently, but this is just blank, no agenda, so many options!
It's hard to not just commentate your life, but that is what Facebook/twitter is for, this is supposed to be a dump for your thoughts...
What happens when u genuinely don't have that many of your own original thoughts...
I can't remember the guys name that worked at the u.s. patents office about a hundred years ago who said, "everything that can be invented has now already been invented" 100 odd years later and boy was he wrong! we now have the Transforma Ladder and The Renovator, 2 amazing things we could not life a day without.
But honestly I feel a bit like this guy. I sometimes think I am mentally disabled in some way with this stuff, like I missed something developmentally in the creativity imagination stakes. For years I have been a builder of others ideas rather than a created of my own. It's not all bad, don't get me wrong I honestly believe it is this one thing that makes me a good leader of teams. It would be a lame and unoriginal project if i was left to my own devices.
Somewhat luckily I have done a great job in life surrounding myself with creative and visionary people. When I say surrounding, my family are full of them, my dad is exceptional, and in have leant on him heavily for the past 30 years. But about 10 years ago showing wisdom well beyond my 20yrs of age, I married the Queen!!!
Obviously readers of this blog are well aware of a few of her talents, she truly is one of the most brilliant minds alive. Her natural ability to take the complex and incomprehensible and turn it into simple and accessible for the average human is in my opinion rarely equalled and massively under-appreciated. She has more vision in her pre-cup-of-tea shuffles to the kitchen in the morning than I do in the average week!
Anyway I've managed to waste 5 mins of your time already talking about very little, so id best be going. At least you will look forward to Meg being back on deck tomorrow!!!
P.s. one little piece of commentary: The youth project I created for Central West Care was on the front page of the paper today!
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