Looking for the best

Yesterday I was whining about how some days things just don't seem to work out they way you hoped or thought or planned. It was a bit of a grumble regarding how the last week has felt for me.

What I didn't get a chance to mention is that deep down as much as it frustrates me when things go wrong I know that nine point nine times out of ten it will work out for the best.

Of course sometimes that for the best is hard to see, but I do believe it is always there, you just have to stop grumbling and look for it.

As sucky as it was having to pay a ridiculous amount of money to have a new clutch put in and buy a new battery at least it is now done and out the way. There will be no more wondering about if or when these things will go wrong. Because let's face it at the end of the day it was inevitable that these things would go wrong. Car parts only have a certain life span. That's all there is too it. At least by reaching the end of their time here we were able to replace them with relative ease. Having the clutch seize and fail while at the top some sand dune in the middle of no where would have been a much bigger issue and a much more costlier exercise than what we had to deal with.

Same with the battery. It really is a case of alls well the ends well. We now have a super flash heavier than heavy duty battery that has a three year warranty.

However having said all of that there is that something that I didn't get to whinge about yesterday that I am struggling to find the sliver lining for.

Since arriving in Sunny Karratha I have made a concerted effort to up my activity levels. The fact that most of my shorts appeared to have shrunk made me think it was probably not a bad idea to move a little more (and drink a little less).

So the other evening I donned my favourite pair of running pants and hit the pavement. I managed to crank out my fastest 4km in I don't know how long. I was all kinds of impressed with myself and certain I would wake up in the morning a few kilos lighter.

At around the 3km mark in my run I noticed a slight burning sensation on my inner right thigh. Being the tough nut that I am I just kept on running. All the while said burning sensation intensified.

As I took myself off to the showers, upon my return home, those watching me would be forgiven for thinking I had released my inner cowgirl as I had suddenly developed a rather bow legged stance to ensure my aching loins were free from any friction.

Upon inspection of my upper leg I discovered that at the thickest point there was a patch where I was in fact missing quite a few layers of skin. Red raw began to take on a whole new meaning for me. Never before have I seen or had such a terrible case of chaffing.

Yes I know quite possible a case of too much information but since I am relatively certain I can currently name all the people that stop by to read what I have to say I have no qualms about over sharing.

The really horrifying part though came when I was folding up my beloved running tights only to discover a gapping hole in the seam.

Oh the horror.

Then as if things weren't mortifyingly bad enough.

In my wisdom I thought applying some tape to protect my damage skin was the best course of action, only I somehow managed to get my out of control pubic hair caught in it.

Yep. You wouldn't read about. Well I guess you would because you just did, I wouldn't though because I am positive that such drama could not happen to another living soul.

So please, what remedies do you have for chaffing? And how can I find the for the best out of this?

Things I Know that are making me go FFS

Taking a break from my recounts of #ouradventureofalifetime to share a few things I know that are making me go FFS at the moment.

Like rubbish bin trucks that go through caravan parks before for the crack of dawn - FFS.

Given that caravan parks are generally a place people on holidays go and all shouldn't they be a bit later on in the day when it comes to noisy rubbish removal? Not all residents are oldies that wake up with the birds you know.

Our current home looks remote and isolated
but remember lookscan be deceiving.

I know that the noise level of my current neighbours are well and truly doing my head in. Damo across the road sat up boozing with his mate till nearly 11pm the other night FFS. And the two old guys either side of us have taken to returning home from fishing at around nine. Their great big 4WD vehicles do not exactly quietly purr you know. Don't this people know the rubbish truck will be round in the morning? FFS

Yes that's right I am complaining about noise keeping me awake at ridiculously early times because suddenly my night owl tendencies have disappeared and come eight o'clock it is starting to feel way past my bed time FFS.

Which of course leaves little to no time to write or blog or do anything without children hanging off me because eight o'clock is only just after their bed time FFS.

Though my caravan park woes will temporarily be put on hold tonight as I am flying home for my six month check up on my blood clot. This is a combined FFS but not FFS.

I can feel all kinds of ridiculous anxieties building up about the whole thing FFS

Mind you I don't have to cook dinner for the ever hungry children. No FFS. Mind you the fact that they ALWAYS seem to be telling me they are hungry, even five minutes after they have just stuffed their face, is a total FFS. Apparently all this fresh air and sunshine has given them hollow legs FFS.

I know that given all the awesome I have been experiencing of late I should let a few little things make me go FFS but I just can't help it. It probably has to do with the fact that stupid Aunty Flow stopped in for a visit the other day. The same day we headed to the beach actually. FFS. Probably far too much information but I am not a fan of tampons in any shape or form but especially not super sized ones on the first day of a ridiculously heavy flow (thank you very much blood thinners) Beyond FFS.

Oh and while I am bitching and carrying on crap internet connections drive me batty FFS. No internet connection in the middle of no where I can deal with. A crap connection in a largish town is not cool at all FFS.

I know that I have probably stamped my feet and carried on enough for one day now. I feel slightly better for it as well so thanks for listening. Mind you the fact that when I get off here I have to go and tackle the washing and sort out Edna ready for moving day tomorrow makes me what to get back into  screaming FFS.

Sigh.

Joining in with Ann for TIK and Sarah for FFS

The passing of Sunday

Image from here

It's  just gone eight o'clock on Sunday morning. I can hear Mr Awesome telling the little one that it is too early in the morning for that. He is refering to her scratching her sister.

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It is now nearly five o'clock Sunday afternoon. My day has been little like I envisaged, but that is not exactly surprising or new.

Nearly five o'clock Sunday afternoon is not exactly prime blogging time. At nearly five o'clock Sunday afternoon children are hungry and over tired. Dinner and bed time can not come nearly fast enough, yet they still seem like an eternity away. Many deep breaths and extreme levels of self control are needed.

Yet here I am. Trying to make myself oblivious to it all and just doing what I want for once.

After a day of constant battles that saw no ground gained or winner crowned, in any of the many fights endured, doing something that is purely and solely for my benefit or pleasure seems like the only sane thing to do. All other options seem to be exasperated. Aside from that, I am just crying out to be heard. It is more than apparent that my offspring speak not the same language as I. At least here, in my own lunch box, I feel I can be heard.

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It is now nearly quarter past six. The children have been fed and the husband serviced. Part of me is busy beating myself up about not sitting and eating with the children, but there is this other part of me that is quickly putting that part in it's place. A child that refuses to sleep at night has prevented martial activities from taking place for far too long. An opportunity presented and I had to make the most of it.

Besides, what reluctant housewife wouldn't get excited about a husband putting clean sheets on the bed?

In many ways it feels wrong even insinuating that Mr Awesome and I partake in sexual activities. It is not like I think my reader is oblivious to such things, I just don't ever feel that it is my place to discuss such things. I am only too aware that some things need not be said. There are some discussions that need not be had.You can only imagine the angst that I feel discussing the birds and the bees concept with Miss 12. Made worse only by the fact that my discomfort brings out nothing but bluntness. 

Something tells me though, that "so did you know your vagina is going to bleed for days on end every month" is possibly not the ice breaker that I should go with. I just keep telling myself that when the time is right I will magically find the right words. I am nothing if not optimistic

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It is now just gone half past six. The biggest downside to daylight savings is the delay in darkness. Not that we have daylight saving time as such, the sun just seems to set so much later. With children being up for over twelve hours, bed time just can't seem to come soon enough.

Not that I want to wish their lives away. I just want today to be over.

I am a firm believer that tomorrow is always a new day, with a fresh start. After all what easier way is there to find peace with the mistakes of today, than with the hope of what tomorrow? I want the reminder of all the things I didn't do or get done today to be washed away with the start of a brand new day. Of course even this is sometimes easier said than done.

For now though its is just past 7pm. Bed time feels closer than imminent. Those few silent moments that parents treasure most are almost within grasp and I just can not wait.

Things I know about reality, holding on to it and having it slap you in the face

You would think that by now I would be organised enough to not be sitting here typing away first thing in the morning, but alas that is not the case. Yet again the parameters of time management exceed me and I am faced with doing something well after it should be done.

Not that there really are any hard and fast rules or regulations or whatever as to when I should and shouldn't blog, but since I pretty much know that every Friday I am going to share something I know, you would think I could have it sorted before Friday morning wouldn't you? But no, the reality is that rarely happens. And boy has this been a week for reality coming up and bitch slapping me across the face.

image found here

It all started with an innocent little tweet.

@aparentinglife Hi Rhianna! Saw your site, would you like to join our #BloggersChallenge?

— Proskins (@ProskinsLtd) July 1, 2013

Ah yes why of course I would +ProskinsLtd Australia I would very much like to join your #BloggersChallenge how very nice of you to ask.

For those of you unaware, Proskins are supposed to be super cool running pants that help get rid of or at least help get rid of cellulite. They are also incredibly expensive and not something my budget could ever stretch to. You can imagine my excitement. My feeling of validation and recognition.

Now imagine all of that coming crashing down when I am then sent a link with a form to fill out to determine whether or not my social reach is actually far enough to warrant me inclusion in what I am quickly discovering is a somewhat elitist challenge.

Needless to say within minutes of the form being returned I received a reply saying

Thanks but no thanks. You are in fact not nearly cool enough to be part of this exclusive challenge. We will however offer you the chance to purchase some merchandise with a 50% discount code and then be able to be a part of the challenge and blog 5 times a month about how great your now cellulite free thighs are.

To which I wanted to say a great big F you. But I didn't because I am all polite and stuff but man the thoughts I had... Let's just leave it with a thank you reality for the slap across the face. It was at least the third time this week it happened.

The first was when I received and email from Helium, one of the first places I started writing at all the way back in 2007. It was informing me that an article I wrote on calming babies was being deleted. Despite being ranked highly on the topic it was deemed as no longer suitable because I used first person references in it.

Whatever! I thought to myself. I don't actively write there any more what does it matter? When I couldn't find anything to write for IBOT I saw the deleted article as an easy way out. Sure some news site might no longer want first person based articles but it's my blog and I'll blog what I want.

Till I read it.

Let's just say it needed far more editing than I had time or inclination to give it right then and there. It will sit in the draft folder till then. I was beyond horrified to think that it had been up as long as what it was. No wonder that publisher has given me a call yet offering that book deal.

Reality was alive and well now and I was less than loving it I can tell you. Which was lucky because when I received another email from Helium telling me another article had been edited by someone else due to it's poor punctuation and whatever else I was nearly able to take it in my stride. Or rather I shrugged my shoulders and went of course it has been.

Sigh.

So of course it came as no surprise to hear I was not fortunate enough to be awarded a prize in a small competition that I thought no one else had entered.

Double Sigh.

I know that the reality is I didn't deserve to win that competition. I am sure those who did spent much longer on their post, had much great readership and therefore a much great reach and more effect on the campaign than what I did.

Just like I know that Proskins were justified in there lack of reach comments. Well kinda. While I may not reach the masses I like to think I do connect on a higher lever with those I do reach and that should count for something shouldn't it?

I know I don't understand why they couldn't see before tweeting me I came no where near their desired reach levels.

I know that Proskins have still benefited from their terrible marketing ploy that left my feelings slightly shredded because look how much free publicity they just gained. Or not since I have no influence according to them.

I know that I am not really complaining about any of this treatment. Just needed to get it off my chest more than anything.

I know that all good things come to those who wait and wait I will.

What do you know this week?

Why washing dishes in the rain is not always the best idea.

Normally this time on a Monday afternoon, the last place I would be allowed to be is here at the computer. Since this Monday afternoon happens to be a public holiday rules are allowed to be ben a little. Or a lot if the following day happens to be your second child's seventh birthday. As is the case in our happy little home.

Yes, that's right, tomorrow sees my Little Miss Six become Little Miss Seven. She's is beyond excited about the prospect as well. Apparently she is the last of the year two students to turn seven. In fact some have been seven for so long they are soon to be turning eight, with some students already having done so.

But I digress, the whole age of entry to schooling is a whole other post for another day. My thoughts are wide and varying on that. I can see why so many claim it's advantages but I am not necessarily sold it is what you should have to do if you'd rather not. And nor should you be made to feel like your decision is less valid than that of the norm. 

Again though, posts that are not really meant to be written today on account of there being something else I wanted to say. Which if I don't hurry up and get to will somehow slip out of my mind and be forgotten until who knows when. It appears as if my lack of concentration is on track to make new record highs.

I was again reminded today of just how absent minded I can be at times. 

How did that happen I hear you ask?

Well I finally brought in some dishes from the garden. They had been put there to be washed by the rain. Oh wait, most people probably don't do that. 

Doing the dishes in the bath!
I couldn't find any photos of dishes in the rain at my favourite photo site,
I did however come across this little beauty.
image from here

Let me explain a little more.

After being left in the fridge for far too long a rather funky fungi had taken hold. Said incredibly funky fungi had in fact taken such a great hold it was impossible to identify the origins of the food that the dishes once held. Rather than try and stomach cleaning this delightfully rank mess I opted for leaving it in the pouring rain.

Seemed like a rather eco friendly option to tell you the truth. The funky fungi was pretty manky and would have needed quite a lot of water to ever have any hope of ever coming clean. By placing them in the rain rather than attempting to face the fungi in my sink I was sure I was saving gallons of water.

Now it doesn't really matter when that, or even the last rains stopped by, let's just say it wasn't yesterday. What does matter is that today was the day that I finally had nothing else to do but get the dishes in from the garden that had been left there to be washed by the rain and think about whether they may or may not be fit for use again.

Actually I did have plenty of others things I could have been doing, which was probably why this suddenly became appealing as the most important thing to get off the normally ever expanding to-do list. Again though I start to digress...

Thankfully we have a dishwasher so I was still able to hold onto the hope that the dishes may actually live to see what it is like to hold more food rather than just funky fungi and rain water. Though really I wasn't holding onto much hope.

Before placing them in the dishwasher I thought perhaps that rinsing off some of the leaf matter that had replaced the funky fungi from the fridge. Placing my once favourite dishes (while wondering how they had been left to such a fate) in the laundry sink I turned the tap on and was instantly distracted by the cries of children.

After tending to the ills and assuring the wronged that all would be right, I then noticed my half finished attempt to clean my desk. Diligently I moved pile A to pile B and then halved it and created pile C. You know what it's like right?

From there I did a bit of this and did a bit of that. My main goal of the day was not to be drawn into the vortex of Candy Crush and instead remain as productive as possible. I felt that I was slowly steaming ahead, though in the back of my mind there was a niggling that there was something else I just needed to tend to.

Pausing from my paper reshuffling I scratched my head and pondered on the all the possible things I should possibly be doing. Drawing a blank I knew I needed to investigate further.

Heading to the laundry I decided that the washing was the best place to start. The washing/folding/putting away of clothes was such a constant that I was certain that had to be what was playing on my mind waiting to be done. 

Much to my delight the washing machine was gently whirring away doing it's thing. Which meant I was saved from the need to hang it out (just yet). What did not bring me joy though was the tapping running in the laundry sink rinsing of the funky fungi and grass residue. 

Go me right?

The irony of all the water wasted from something that originally stemmed from a stupid idea that hoped to actually save water is not lost on me. In many ways it just feels like the story of my life.

Have you had any bright ideas go terribly wrong lately?

I must confess some of my crazy thoughts

The other day I shared an insight into some of the crazy thoughts that have popped through my head. In all honestly I cringe at the thought of some of the things that I said in that post. Even as I sit here typing this I am gently rocking back and forth in my chair wondering whether this is something I should keep pushing on with.

You see I am slowing beginning to think that we all have equally crazy thoughts at times. Some may be slightly crazier than others and others may have them slightly more often than some. But at the end of the day we are all full of our own little cup of crazy.

Which to me makes it not so crazy and more like normal.

Which I think is why I am thinking that sharing a few more of my hide in the cupboard crazies is a good idea. To create a whole new normal not just for me, but my readers at large. Failing that let's just hope it is at the least in some way entertaining.

So in there interest of normalising crazy, particularly mine here I go.


Before arriving at the Digital Parents Conference I had a whole heap of expectations. One of which was that I would be inundated with people who couldn't wait to meet me. And to some extent there was and please if you are one of those people reading this I really was touched and it did meant the world to me.

However there honestly was a part of me that expected a little more. In some ways I envisaged a whole range of different people racing up to introduce themselves to me for one reason or another. And yes one of those reasons might have been to either offer me a book deal or sign me up as their number one writer for something or another.

Not surprisingly (when you have reality firmly gripped) I was not mobbed upon my nearly late arrival to the conference on day one. I was however greeted by the lovely Tina who engulfed me with one of the warmest welcome hugs I have ever felt. My first thought was "I think she might actually know who I am" which naturally made me feel all kinds of special.

However my special feeling quickly dissipated when others did not get so nearly excited upon my entrance. Which again is totally understandable for those who have a strong relationship with reality. Unlike myself at times.

For me the entire conference was spent on an internal roller coaster trying to determine where I fitted in, not just in the blogosphere but almost in the world at large. For as much as it felt great being around so many like minded souls I also felt incredibly isolated and alone at times. Which may or may not have been a pure result of my crazy thoughts (actually it is but like I want to admit that).

As I mentioned in my last post I let my crazy thoughts get so carried away I missed out on meeting the rather lovely Tiff. Only she wasn't the only one. Oh no, there is a whole long list. For the most part I am not beating myself up about it too much but there are few that I am just gutted I didn't manage find the balls to really talk to.

Top of that list is Robomum.

Another who requested my where abouts during the conference.

@aparentinglife Where ru ?
— RoboMum (@RoboMumBlog) March 20, 2013

Only by the time we actually managed to be in the same room at the same time there was barely enough time for a quick hello hug before we both had to rush off somewhere else.

At the time I was a bit relieved because by this stage I was on the verge of my mini meltdown, though I don't think I realised it at the time. My levels of overwhelm had soared to new heights by this stage. The thought of actually having to talk to anyone, regardless of whether I knew them or not, made my stomach turn a thousand different ways.

As I think about it now I really wish that I had pushed myself a little further. Robomum was on my list people I was hoping to connect with and I had the opportunity to and now feel like I threw it away. Not only that I have heard from numerous sources that she is as awesome in real life as she is on her blog.

Talk about rubbing salt into the wound.


The irony of the whole no one wants to talk to me despite me not being able to actually to anyone is not lost on me. Total crazy I know.

I Love Your Blog -As you blog through adversity #DPCON13

This week's inspiration for the blogs I love comes from experiences at DPCON13. In fact so much experience has come from these three blogs that I have actually had to break it all up into two posts.

One of the discussion panels at the conference was on blogging through adversity. It was moderated by Grace from withsomegrace.com who by the way, did so wonderfully.

The discussion created by these amazingly strong and resilient women is one that is both heart breaking and warming. There strength, determination and pure ability to just keep on keeping on is of endless inspiration to me.

On the panel was

Lori from  Random Ramblings of a SAHM (RRSAHM), 

Tiff from My Three Ring Circus, 

and

Rachel from Mummy Muddles. 

Three amazing women, each with their own heartbreaking story to tell. Each doing so with beauty, poise and an honest openness that touches my heart in the most deepest of ways.

My Three Ring Circus and RRSAHM were both blogs that were already on my totally love list prior to the conference. In fact there is actually a whole other post about them here. Mummy Muddles however was one I had not before read. Upon returning home and having a read through a few posts, it didn't take me long to decide that it was on the totally love list.

Actually just hearing Rachel read one of her posts later on that evening I knew I would love her blog.

The rawness of Rachel's pain and grief is very confronting, and I will be honest, I can't stop in there all the time, I am an emotional reader at the best of times. It is like I absorb the sadness and sometimes it can be hard to shake. Which I feel terrible saying because I am sure that is how Rachel must feel only she doesn't get the chance to click away or not go and read...Through all of this though Rachel's words are penned in such a beautiful way that it is a criminal for them not to be read. By everyone.

Have you got a blog you love to read? 

Join in the I Love Your Blog meme hosted by MTA

Things I Know About Not Making Sense

The first thing that I know this week is that life is just crazy and sometimes makes no sense whatsoever. Like none. Not even an iota. Hence why it is well past stupid o'clock on Saturday night and I am yet to go to bed, and this post which was started hours and hours ago is still waiting to be finished and published.

The next thing I know is actually more of an I don't know and by that I mean, I don't know how it suddenly got to Saturday early hours of Sunday morning, and I have barely managed to write, at all. Which I know doesn't sound much in the scheme of things but when writing is one of the few things that makes the world stop and make a little more sense to you, it is something you should try and do as often as possible. Like every day.

I know that already having a post written and scheduled is a pretty cool feeling. As is creating a funky new signature for blog posts. Just wait till you get to the end and check it out. Though I have just thought of a little change here and there.

*rushes off to make said changes*

I know that the little changes here and there that I just mentioned, turned out to be a major blog overhaul. Again, yes I know.

Truth be told I never really thought the new header (which is now the old header) was ever quite right.

I know that the new header, which will be released in the next week I think, is going to be awesome. Really seriously awesome. Seriously.

How do I know that with such certainty I hear you ask?

Because someone incredibly awesome helped me. I had mentioned to her earlier in the week how I wanted something different but didn't know what and she just went and made me a few suggestions. Told you she was awesome. I know I am blessed to have crossed paths with her.

I know this whole writers block think I have been through lately has really done my head in. Which possibly explains why I am in danger of seeing the sun rise if I don't go to bed. I am trying to make up for all the computer time I have missed out on of late in one foul swoop.

I know that I really wish I had of gotten around to organising my whole 35 by 35 thing post. Yesterday (Saturday) was 35 days till my 35th birthday. Which I am pretty excited about. Multiples of seven birthdays always get me excited. To me it signifies the changing cycles of life. Starting a new cycle in life is bound to be exciting.

I know that thinking of an awesome post idea involving 35 days of gifts for my readers to tie in with my 35th birthday, really would have been better to have thought about a month or so ago.

I know I am pleased to be joining in with the lovely Miss Cinders and all the things she knows

Breaking all the rules

That is what this post is doing. Breaking rules. Who's rules I am not really sure but without a doubt rules will be broken. Even starting this post with the intention of posting it later this afternoon is a rule breaker.

Daredevil that I am.

How is this such a rule breaking post? Well I have already posted once today and I am sure that I read once that posting once a day is all that is ever needed. I know I am not alone because the lovely Kate wrote the other day how she too intends to be a rule breaker. And let's face it, if it is good enough for Kate then it is good enough for me. Because we all know how many different types of awesome Kate is.
(btw I just broke another rule because the word because, is never really meant to start a sentence told you I was a dare devil)

Rules are such a funny thing.

For me they are a prime example of can't live with them and can't live without them. I get why we need rules, well I get why we need some rules. People are too stupid to adequately think for themselves. Or rather people are selfish and sometimes only think of themselves. Rules are meant to help even the playing field.

I struggle with rules in many different ways on a regular basis. This is both in terms of being a rule creator and enforcer as well as upholder.

Sigh.

In the early days of my blogging, I tried to create a whole heap of stupid rules that I was sure if I followed I would hit the blogging jackpot. My self imposed rules included post length and photos. Not to mention the obvious post every day but only once a day. Like a lot of my rules I never bothered following them for very long.

Life is just easier that way. It only makes sense to prefer the easy. For me life would be easier without rules to follow, till I am lost and need direction of course.

The main reason for this post was because I had it in my head that I wanted to see how often I could regularly post for. Turns out the answer is just shy of two weeks. Saturday saw me fail to get a post out.

Break a self imposed rule if you will.

Only every time I go to the blog and see that the month of January has a day without posting I get a little cross with myself. Mainly because I really thought that I would have been able to go a lot longer than not even two weeks. So in a bid to continue my momentum I am back posting.

After all it is only for one day and I am a rule breaker.

Tank Thursday

In a bid to get some feed back about this little old blog, I asked Mr Awesome if he had anything to share. In my wisdom, I thought that if anyone had some advice on how I could shake things up a bit it was him. After all who knows me better than him?

Let's just say that after the conversation that ensued I kinda wish I hadn't brought it up with him.

The essence of his critique was that I should loosen up a bit and just let go every now and then. Apparently, according to Mr Awesome's wisdom, I am too structured and formal. This applies to both my writing style and the type of posts that I published. I am also too opinionated and my posts feel more like a debate than fodder for a mummy blog.

His first recommendation was to get rid of being thankful on a Thursday. After all who wants to constantly read what you are thankful for? (His words not mine) I was going to point out that I hadn't actually done a thankful Thursday post since November but instead I decided to take all further comments he made with a grain of salt because clearly the regularity of his reading needs to be questioned.

Just as I was about to ask him what I should write about instead of being thankful, he pipped me at the post and said "Tank Thursday" would be a much better option.

"Tank Thursday???" I queried with a bemused look on my face as I sat on the edge of my seat waiting for his ingenious suggestion to be explained further.

"Yeah you know how in the footy last year there were teams accused of 'tanking' their game so they could get a better route to the finals? Do something like that on a Thursday instead of that thankful rubbish" he replied with a look on his face that looked like he had just made the greatest discovery ever.

"Hmmmm, I will take in on board" was about all that I could manage in response.

Mr Awesome then went on to explain that most other mummy bloggers covered topics very differently to me. They seemed to put their own spin on child rearing and it really wouldn't hurt for me to share a bit more about the raising the girls. He even went so far as to say that I should write more about any problems or uncertainties that I have and that way I could ask my readers for advice.

This was right before he started to lecture me on how I don't ask enough open ended questions and give my readers more of an opportunity to interact with me. Ending it with "you know like all the other mummy bloggers do"

At this point I couldn't take any more. I just had to know which mummy bloggers he was a regular reader of, because he was well and truly making himself like somewhat of an expert on the whole topic of mummy blogging.

"Gosh I don't know their names. I just read some the ones that you are friends with and comment on. though that Jess is pretty good" he eagerly responded.

"Yes she is..." I started to say before he cut me off.

"Yeah you should try and write more like her, her writing style is really easy to read, I like it a lot..." He began to babble on. Though I had stopped listening, my pride wounded, I found it hard to take much more in.

He is right of course, Jess is a great writer and always makes for a great read, I just kind of thought I was too. Only every time he spoke he made me feel less and less like it. It's not that he didn't say I wasn't a good writer, in fact quiet the opposite.

According to Mr Awesome my writing is of a too high quality for mummy blogger readers and that I should dumb my writing down if you will.

"Uh huh" was my meek reply. Unsure of how much more I could take. Thankfully though my saviour came in the form of a child inquiring when dinner would be ready. I don't think I have ever jumped up to feed them so quickly.

So dear reader what do you think, should I find a way to create a proper Tank Thursday? Where I get halfway through a post and then throw the rest away yet still publish in the hope of a better final outcome? Or should I just keep plodding along and pretend we never had this conversation?

This rather awesome post is linking in withsomegrace

Life without connection

It has been a busy couple of weeks here. As I suspect it has been at most places. It is after all one of the busiest times of the year the world over. Of course you have no idea just what I have been up to because the universe decided that I was to have some time out from the technological world.

Source

It all started the Saturday before Christmas. Some lovely friends from interstate had dropped in for a visit. They have a daughter five weeks younger than Miss Six. The two were tummy buddies, sadly though they never got to spend too much time together on the outside before the move was made.

Anyway they are visiting their old stomping grounds for Christmas and had popped in for a swim to cool down, only with them came a rather large electrical storm. Needless to say the swim was postponed. While we waited for the storm to pass I went to put the kettle on for a cuppa. It just so happened that as I touched the tap, lightning struck somewhere rather close by. I got the shock of my life as I felt the electricity travel up my arm and out my shoulder.

At the same time as this the lights went out and the power surged. It was all very exciting (for want of a better word) till we discovered that the modem no longer turned on and my shoulder throb for the next two hours.

Our Internet provider supplied us with the modem and are sending out a new one which normally takes three days. Apparently over the festive season though this may extend to three weeks. Or at least it feels that way.

To begin with I was not too fussed about the lack of Internet. I still had some access via my phone and not having wireless was just one less thing to argue with Miss Eleven about. However on Sunday when I dropped my phone, smashing the screen and rendering it useless I started to feel a little closed in as social media and all the Internet contains was quickly and almost literally slipping through my fingers.

Despite it being Christmas Eve I traipsed all the way into the city to the phone repair man. You can only imagine my excitement when I discovered he was closed until the 27th. Three whole days away. My mind began to boggle trying to come to terms with no phone for three whole days. It already felt like an eternity.

Being a silver lining lover I decided to run with the notion that disconnecting was a good thing. Because let's face it, it was. As much as I missed not sending mass texts messages of joy, goodwill and love, I did enjoy just chilling with my girls and living in the moment.

Towards the end of the three days I realised I could put my sim card in the iPad. This did give me access to most things but, just between you and me, I liked not feeling the need to constantly be checking in. Plus Miss Eleven's constant complaints about not being able to check in with her Facebook friends made me realise just how involved this house had become with social media, the Internet and the like.

Once I had dropped the phone off at the repairers though I was more than keen to retrieve it. Waiting all day for it to be ready felt like forever. I was so pleased to be able to race in and pick it up, five minutes before closing time. I did think it was strange the way it kept saying 'searching' but my sim card still wasn't installed so I didn't think much of it.

I wish I had of because putting my sim card in didn't fix the problem. In fact there was nothing I could do to fix it myself. Mr Awesome kept saying to check in with what Google had to say but I was just too distraught to think straight. I was fine with a short imposed break but I was just about at the end of my tether by now.

When I took it back to the repairers the next day it took them all of two seconds to fix and show me how I could of *easily* done the same. Or I could just not smash it to smithereens in the future. Though my elation was short lived because it was my mother's birthday and there was no way I could do anything other than spend the day fussing over her.

Imagine my excitement when late on Friday night, nearly one whole week without my phone, I finally get some time to sit down and flitter about social media. Imagine that excitement fading faster than a setting sun when I get a text telling me I have reached my data limit for the month.

Suddenly human implosion seemed very possible.

Then to top it all off, just as I began to get into a slight flurry over how I would be able to be ready for the first IBOT post of the new year, Mr Awesome informs me that we still have an old dial up modem that would give a slow connection to the Mac.

SERIOUSLY.

Deep breath and lots of them.


-fairy wishes and butterfly kisses

Bullies bully the bully?

While I was flogging my blogging With Some Grace the other day I found myself discussing the recent actions of Alan Jones. In many ways I felt that when our local radio station decided to not air their regular hourly segment featuring apparent best of Mr Jones each day that they may have been denying freedom of speech.

Source

As it turns out Australian doesn't have a constitutional right to freedom of speech. It is merely implied or expected. Thanks to my lovely readers Blundermum and Cassandra for sharing this with me. I did mean to look a bit further into it myself however Friday feels like it were only yesterday.

Time, as always, seems to be flying by.

Anyway back to Friday's post. There was so much there that I didn't say that I thought I would add some more. Well that and the fact that this morning Mr Jones went to air without a single ad being played for the duration of his show.

Before I get too far into it all though I just want to clear up a finer detail. On Friday I thought that the comment was made in the privacy of friends. In actual fact it was at dinner function organised by the Liberal Party.

Oh how this discovery made me shake me head.
In the privacy of his home then his behaviour is easier to excuse. The privacy of a Liberal Party dinner, where his fifty minute speech was recorded not so easy.

I know media and politics go hand in hand but seeing the relationship so blatantly intertwined sends shivers down my spine. Especially given the influence this man is seen to have. For as many people that want him taken off the air there are just as many who want him left there.

This morning Jones station, 2GB, put Alan on air without a single sponsor. The only breaks were ones that advertised other 2GB shows. It will be that way for the next two weeks. Not that I listened to any of the show but I have read that during the show and in recent interviews, Alan Jones has claimed that this whole ordeal has been taken over by bullies.

Bullies, particularly those of a social media nature have apparently turned Alan's sponsors against him. They have been left with no option but to pull their support else face public backlash. Which has apparently included some rather serious threats to sponsors.

Yes that's right one of the most influential and well paid radio personalities in the country, who has an opinion on everything and never holds back on sharing said opinion has fallen victim to cyber bullies. Or so he claims.

Given the tenacity, authority and aggression I have at times heard Alan Jones speak with I struggle to see how he can complain about the actions of bullies towards him. Especially when it comes to trying to convince people to change their thoughts and beliefs. Is that not the pot calling the kettle black?



Joining in with

at Diary of a SAHM

Fairy wishes & butterfly kisses

Can you draw a line on freedom of speech?

Generally I am not one to be getting all political. But every now and then something comes along and my mouth, or perhaps fingertips, can not be stopped. The whole incident between Alan Jones and our fearless red head leader of the country, Julia Gillard is one of those times.

In case you by chance are not an avid fan of this shock jock or Australian politics and have missed all the excitement let me bring you up to speed.

Within a social setting loud mouth Jones essentially said that the recently deceased father of our Prime Minister died with shame based on some of her actions at times.

Now before we go to much further there are a few things I need to say. Firstly I cannot stand to listen to Alan Jones. My preferred radio station plays his apparent best of for an hour every week day. I am glad that during that hour I have things other than listening to the radio to do.

On a good day I find Alan Jones to be one eyed, condescending and deeply in love with Tony Abbott. I am too polite to share how I feel about him on a not so good day. That being said I am not sure he deserves to be taken off the air though.

There is no denying that what he said was hurtful, uncalled for and totally out of line. But he did not say it to Gillard's face, in fact he did not even say it on air. He said it in the company of what he thought were friends, who he was probably trying to impress with his stupid dry sense of humour.

Forgive me if I am wrong, but we do live in a free and democratic country don't we? Freedom of speech and being able to say what we think and how we feel is one of the many reasons people go out of their way to come here.

By demanding a radio station cancel a show based on what the host said in private is surely crushing that whole freedom of speech concept isn't it?

The brand sponsorship being pulled however is another matter altogether. If sponsors would rather not be associated with such scandalous, hurtful remarks then more power to them. It is their money,their brand,their decision on who represents them. It is by no means the same as telling him he can no longer speak.

Just to add a further twist to my thoughts, had the radio station decided to sack him I would have fully supported the move. Again their money, their choice and all that. My issue is with the concept of not liking what someone says and therefore wishing to cease the opportunity for them to be heard.

Does freedom of speech have a line that can be crossed?
Are the times when people should be stopped from expressing their point of view?

Joining in with

Letting go, moving on, and being done.

Towards the end of last month I headed on a bit of a downward spiral.  Things were pretty bleak at my house.  It has been a very long time since I felt in such a bad place.  In fact I can't even care to remember when I last felt so emotional.  Like over the top emotional, everything makes me want to cry.

While I was busy having my very own pity party I began to write the following post.

Ok so this whole drama that happened late last week is still hanging over my head.  Well at least I think that is where to lay blame for this cloud of doom and gloom that appears to have possessed me.  Actually it is more like it is chewing away at my heart.  There is this most awful sensation running through my upper body causing havoc with a great many number of things.

I had put the constant tears down to an unexpected visit from the red dragon.  However she is now getting ready to leave and the burning desire to constantly have tears streaming down my face is shows no signs of letting go.  Which I am not a fan of.  I feel so drained right now.  Every. Little. Thing. is Hard. Work.  And I mean really really hard work.

At first I thought that maybe this was what the start of depression felt like.  But naturally I don't want to be depressed (who does) so I banished those thoughts.  After all I am a strong capable and pretty awesome woman.  I might get a little lost and distracted along the way at times but on the whole I am generally pretty confident that at the end of the day all will be ok.

Only the days are becoming so long I am beginning to wonder exactly what ok actually is.

See the thing is I feel like I have been wounded.  I have been misunderstood and every time I try to explain how I am feeling I just make it worse.  Yesterday I was certain I had given my last attempt to make amends.  To seek forgiveness and assurance that all really was ok.  One some level that was all received but I am still injured.

Perhaps the other party is too I guess.  Only I don't know because they have gone to great lengths to ignore all my attempts to show just how incredibly sorry I was. Am.  How sorry I am.  Sorry not just for what has happened but sorry for so much more as well.  Sorry we were never able to click like I think we should of.  Technically I guess there is still time but I hold little hope.

You see I have let so much just slip on by over the years.  So many time I felt wronged by some words or actions from them but I never said anything.  I let it all go.  Because that is what you do when you love someone.  I would convince myself that there was a chance I had it all wrong.  I had misinterpreted the signals.  Picked up the wrong message.  I am still telling myself that.  And really it is irrelevant whether it is true or not because at the end of the day I want them in my life.  Sometimes when you really want people in your life you just let things slide.  This is what I should have done.  I should have just stayed right away from it all and let everyone else fight it out without me.  But I didn't.  Live and learn I guess

There are a number of reasons why I didn't hit the publish button.  The first of which being I didn't feel it was quite finished.  Yet my original intention of the post wasn't exactly shared the way it was in my head.  Not that that is anything new but I just wasn't sure about being so emotional.  Again.  I was a little concerned that all the down in the dumps from the previous few posts might be wearing thin.  Given the size of my readership I certainly don't want to bore anyone with my woes.  Especially since there are people out there with real problems (yes yes I know it is all relative but my saga is by nowhere near what some poor people have to endure.)

Anyway now that the dust has all settled I feel much more comfortable sharing the above.  Well sort of.  I am still slightly concerned that some may misinterpret my comments about depression.  Only I remind myself that I can not be responsible for the way that people interpret what I write any more than I am responsible if someone misunderstands my best intentions.

So finally I am able to let this whole thing go.  I still feel wounded and I still feel grossly misunderstood but I also know the stubbornness of the party involved and I just don't have that kind of angst in me.  My point will never be accepted and I am now fine with that.  I admit there was a period where I thought I was going to insist that my voice be heard but thankfully wisdom kicked in and I realised the less said the better (well at least on this matter)

Since it is Tuesday I am joining in with the lovely Jess over at Essentially Jess

Have we really come to this?

I am sitting here in absolute disbelief.  Astounded at what I am listening to.

But first let me set the scene a little

As a rule we don't really watch a lot of television.  It is still more than I would really like them to watch but the convenience and time it provides me with is very hard to give up.  Though I am seriously reassessing that as we speak.

Despite the disaster zone that is our house hubs and I have elected for a slow lazy start to the morning with a designated joint start time to tackle the monstrosity of work that needs to be done.  Since I hustled the kidlets downstairs yesterday morning with little disturbance to him, enabling him to have an extra hour and bit of sleep, this morning was his turn to get up first.

DD3 woke up just before 7 (which I know I shouldn't complain about but 8 would have been nicer)  I knew there was no point feeding her as the reason for her waking was to do a wee. I lifted her up and over to hubs who was doing his very best to pretend he was still sleeping, and returned my head to my pillow to do the same.  DD2 was in the middle of all this just waiting for the signal to jump out of bed and start the day (don't you just love the enthusiasm of a five year old?)

Before I knew it DD2 was crawling back to me and snuggling up.  All was silent as I lay there wondering what would happen next.  Hubs was gently poking my back saying that the baby had gone back to sleep.  I could feel her limp body against my head but I just couldn't buy her actually being asleep.  At 16 months old she generally wakes dry but she can only hold it in for so long.  I was not going to risk moving to look at her face myself to see whether she really was sleeping or just snoozing so I trusted hubs is judgement and began to will myself back to sleep, still somewhat doubtful about the child next to me but hey if it looks like a stick...

The position that DD3 had selected to jam herself up against me in was far from comfortable but I was just going to have to deal with it.  After about five minutes my worst fears were realised and my sleep in destroyed.  DD3 was sitting up and chatting away.  Reluctantly I dragged myself out from underneath the covers and took DD3 to the toilet.  Which actually involves walking all the way down stairs.  At which point I realise that I am probably not going back to bed so I may as well say good morning to Sunday.

Once the toileting needs of both DD3 and myself are seen to I wander into the lounge room to investigate what everyone else is up to.  Not only is DD2 snuggled up on the bean bag watching the dreaded box but hubs is stretched out on the couch, eyes closed and looking more asleep than what I had even come close to.

Letting out a bit of a sigh I headed to the kitchen and popped the kettle on.

In a bid to put a bit of a positive spin to it all I decided that for many mother's 7.45 on a Sunday morning could very well be considered as a late sleep in. So with the washing machine filling up and fresh coffee in hand I sat down in front of the computer reading for some quality blogging time while I waited for it to be time to clean.

I was trying hard not to pay attention to the noise coming from the TV.  Recent weeks have seen my tolerance for the dreaded box decrease greatly.  I tried to console myself with the fact that at least it is the ABC channel, you know the one considered 'educational'.  The time honoured Sesame Street was playing.  Surely it can't be all that bad? Can it?

Oh yes.  Much worse than I have ever suspected actually.

As I sat there trying to think of something readable to write a little furry creature was dancing around telling me the importance of washing my hair.  Seriously.  

Oh me oh my

Going about my daily life I constantly seem to have brilliant ideas on what would make a good post. Interesting little thoughts that seem more than worthy of being shared with the wider world. Naturally though when I actually have the time to write about what ever brilliant idea I may have had earlier in the day, it has of course totally gone.

Now I know that a smart person would possibly have a notepad and pen handy at all times so that the brilliant ideas could easily be jotted down as they occur however I fear that this would still not be of much use to me. I am at best absent minded. Most of my best thoughts seem to occur when I am carrying out rather mundane activities, like hanging out the washing, or doing the dishes, possibly driving or, well I am sure you get the picture. Chances are that what ever it is I am doing, regardless of how mindless it may actually be, it it is not something I can just stop doing. If for example I walked away from the washing line to jot down my amazing idea, the chance of me returning to complete my chore would be smaller than small. It takes every once of being to get me out there in the first place I can't take the risk of leaving once I get there or my family may never have clean dry clothes.

Anyway...

The other afternoon, after dropping the kiddlie winks at my mother's I managed to take a quick peak at the shops in a bid to eliminate some of my Christmas present list. Which by the way did not really happen. It turns out that the shops I looked in were full of over priced crap that would possibly only be played with till the first week of the new year. If that. What however really disgusted me was the treadmill and exercise bike targeted at 4-8 year olds. What has the world become???

Now don't get me wrong I am all for leading a healthy active life, and I understand that childhood obesity is at an all time high and ever growing, but is this really the path we want to send our children on? Surely it would be of more use to get a ball and go and play in the park with them than purchase a piece of exercise equipment that was at least a couple of hundred dollars?

Problems

One of my biggest problems as a writer is that I have a tendency to write about things that are actually part of my life. Now this on itself is not really the problem as I believe that I have a way in sharing these things in an entertaining manner and there is generally something for everyone to walk away with.

My problem lies with my readership.

As I am still only in the developmental stages of becoming a break through writer I really should promote myself to family and friends. Which means I then become very wary about what I share within my random walls...Can you begin to see the problem now?


Ed's note: This post was actually posted on the 19th of March (more than a week after it was started!!
What kind of wanna be writer have we got here? )

A Sign of the Times?

Excuse me if I seem a little disjointed in this post. I am still shaking from a near on encounter. Actually all it really turned out to be was a severe case of a rather over zealous imagination. Still left me feeling a little rattled though.

Here's what happened

It is rather late (after 11.30pm) on a Saturday night. I had been tirelessly working on my layout revamp and decided that it was time I take a well earned break. I ventured out to my small front patio. There was a slight cool stillness to air. Just enough to take the stickyness off the skin but not really enough to drastically reduce body heat.

Anyway, as I sat there deciding which mindless electronic device I was going to whittle my time away on I noticed a car doing laps of the complex's car park. On the third time round they parked in an undesignated area. It is not a very large area nor was it ever really thought out well.

Despite a strong urge to tell the driver to park in a designated park I figured now was not the right time to play parking inspector.

As the car doors opened I heard cheerful banter of young male voices. Followed closely by the sound of aresol spray cans. Instantly I assumed that they were in fact trying to graffiti a parked car. My next thought was, that is wasn't just any old car but it is mine!

The more I listened the more convinced I was of what was happening.

I could feel my heart begin to race as I contemplated how I would catch these little vandals. Not ever being one to feel fear, and often lacking in common sense, I got up and turned the light on and stood in a position to clearly survey the situation.

Standing there waiting for my dog to realise there may be some action about to occur, I saw four bodies move away from the cars and head towards one of the units down the far end. I took in a breath as I went to call out to them, I was overwhelmed by the aroma of deodarant.

Suddenly through the fog of their 'shower in a bottle' spray I could see what was really going on. These young men were not here for some personal vendetta against my car or me. They were here to pick up the young women from number 17.

Quickly I jumped back into the shadows and turned off the light. I must remember more often it is not always about me.

Sitting back down I willed my heart to please stop beating so hard and fast. I couldn't believe that I had actually thought so ill of people. I know that society is full of undesirables and the world is not always a nice place however for the most part I manage to block these factors out and only see the good in people.

Tonight was far from that.

At no stage did I give these guys a chance. I am just so thankful I entered the realms of reality before I actually confronted them. I guess with all the crime and horror that fills the newspapers these days I am not entirely to blame for my over reaction.

Have you ever misread a situation as badly as this?

Let's Get Political...

As a general rule I tend to stay away from political content. There are a few reasons for this. The first being is that politics takes a lot of brain power. Now I know that I am not exactly lacking in that particular department. Quite the contrary. In fact I am well aware of my brain's capacity I just choose not to utilise the majority of it.

Now I don't know why that is, but it is.

Anyway recent events in the political sphere has caused me to think outside my own little box.

Pacific Brands, the creator of iconic Australian labels such as Chesty Bonds, King Gee and Kasyer has decided to sack some 1800 Aussie battlers. These national top sellers are now to be manufactured overseas.

Naturally public outcry has ensued. After all the current economic downturn means need to support local industry is stronger than ever. With those in the know predicting an escalation of unemployment in coming years, possibly even months, one can't help but wonder why Pacific Bonds would want to lead the way.

To add flame to the raging fire that has union members up in arms here are a few interesting side notes that you may or may not already be aware of.

It has been revealed that in the past two years The Australian Federal Government has given Pacific Bonds $14.5 million. Now while on the surface that sounds very nice and is incredibly generous, it must be pointed out that this money was essentially that of the average Australian taxpayer. And nobody ever asked them if they were interested in investing in what has turned out to be not such an Australian Company.

Apparently Pacific Brands has been planning this move for 18 months. Which is only six months after the Government first started handing out fist fulls of cash.

Pacific Brands head honchos earn ridiculously high wages which were recently raised to even crazier levels. It escapes me how you could possibly run a company into the ground, force manufacturing operations overseas and screw over so many people while taking home such a huge slice of the pie.

A large proportion of Pacific Brands Australian workers are migrants and skilled only in the textile industry

I fail to see how brands that are supposed to be representative of the Australian way of life can possibly be made overseas. Chesty Bonds and King Gee are widely seen as representing the different forms the strong Aussie bloke may take. While Kayser has the sexy yet incredible practical and sensible Aussie sheila down to a tea. There is always something to suit everyone.

Now however these great labels will be forever referred to as sell outs. When the going looked like getting tough they got going before it happened. Far cry from being Aussie I say.

So for all those out to buy some knew socks jocks or undies with the soon to be paid second stimulus package... think again... maybe blowing it on the pokies isn't such a bad idea after all, just make sure to have a drink at the same time :)

This and That

I am not sure exactly when I last wrote but I know it wasn't yesterday. Which is not a good thing.

I just went and checked it was 5, yes FIVE days ago. I should be ashamed of myself. Two days into the new year and I am unable to find the motivation, inclination or even dedication to try and achieve an easily attainable goal.

I mean all I had to do was write at least five hundred words a day. It didn't even have to make much sense. i was happy for any old ramble to come out. As long as these little fingers typed out five hundred words a day a feat of wonder would be achieved.

But nooooo. Apparently that was too hard and I find myself starting to fail before the first week has even passed. I just don't understand why that is. Why when writing is meant to be something that I do for myself I am unable to do so.

No one is making me write every day. No one has even said I want you to write every day. It is meant to be what I want so why can't I do it? Why am I so easily distracted?

One of the mysteries of the world perhaps?

Not likely, I have a feeling I know the answer but would love to hear what you think.Followers will know that I am a big believer in looking for the positive side. In the past i have even gone so far as to say I was an optimist. Currently though I feel more comfortable being aligned to that of a realist.

As my life is that of great fortune reality involves a lot of positivity. Though sometimes it is not always easy to see.

Take tonight for example. After a incredibly exciting day which saw a beautiful rainbow lorikeet called Summer joined our family, my eldest offspring decided to turn bedtime into a battle.

At seven, nearly eight power struggles are frequent in our daily life. Sometimes she wins and sometimes I do. Then there are times when neither of us score a victory and we are both left licking our wounds.

Getting her to sleep has always been an issue. Unless everyone else was going to sleep then she didn't want to. For the first few years I was happy to share her bed time. After a while though things changed and my sleeping habits could no longer accommodate such early hours.

My days had become filled with work and house duties needed to be attended to at night. This meant that my little angel needed to be going to sleep by herself without my full attention. Somewhere along the line I discovered that on the couch in front of the TV provided the quick and easy sleep solution that I had been searching for. Even at four she was light enough to easily carry to bed once she fell asleep. Anything was worth a painless bedtime.

Naturally though there came a time when sleeping on the couch became inconvenient. Not to mention the fact her burning desire to test her precise levels of luck. As with most children she yearned to know exactly where the boundaries lay. So with time even the easy way out could become a battle.

Anyway back to the story at hand.

Tonight as the battle ensued i had what I thought was a brilliant idea. Since her biggest gripe about going to sleep upstairs was that she was lonely i could sit outside the room and do some writing. After all the whole idea of the groovy little laptop was so I could write anywhere, anytime.

So this is where you find me now. Sitting on my quaint little balcony enjoying the cool breeze that is trying to blow.
Unfortunately though my brilliant plan does not seem to be going to plan. :(
She is still fighting sleep like it is the devil itself. Perhaps it is time for a change of tactics. Will let you know how it goes!