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The (not really) Yummy Mummy’s Guide to Preparing for a Big Night Out.

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…results not guaranteed.

When preparing for a girls’ night out, a mummy must start planning months in advance. Not kidding. If you’ve got other friends who are mummies then you need to maybe just make it a year in advance. Then tell your husbands/partners/parents/in laws to Lock. That. Sh*t. Down. It’s going in the diary and you WILL have babysitters. ALL of you. Determination is the key.

Give yourself ridiculous amounts of time to become human again. Save money for a dress/outfit far in advance with the financial planning precision you would use to save a deposit for a house or something equally as life changing (tip: your outfit shouldn’t actually cost the same as a house deposit or I might need to give you better advice). Book a hair appointment. Let’s face it, girl. Your hair is a mess. Is that a toddler’s meal I see in there?? Again, things like outfit shopping and hair appointments involve having a small amount of time away from your precious bundle/s of joy. Book these further in advance than you booked similar services/shopping trips when you planned your wedding (or that of a friend’s should you not have had the urge to tie the knot yet).

Life changing.

On the day:

Before…

Paint your nails frantically while your toddler cries from behind a safety gate and your co-parent figure tries desperately in vain to pull them away. It’s a nice, peaceful activity for you to indulge in and the sound of a sad, guilt inducing child really enhances the experience. Nothing like taking some time to pamper yourself.  When you inevitably smudge your nails, trying to be everything to everyone, just put some glitter over that sh*t.

Remember at the 11th hour that your eyebrows look like little hedgehogs saying hello to each other on your face (seriously – one of them is literally waving to the other overweight one). Break out the tweezers and in a desperate rush, almost take an eye out. It keeps the excitement alive because in all honesty, you feel like collapsing in bed for a very long sleep. Like a Sleeping Beauty/Snow White kind of epic sleep.

When blow drying your hair, you must also pretend to blow dry your toddler’s hair. You won’t be able to finish the job because your toddler will start raiding the bathroom cupboard and trying to climb into the bath. Never mind. You still have straightening and a plethora of hair products to get to. Also, your toddler now looks AMAZING.

Put your dress on last. Seriously. LAST MINUTE. Must avoid toddler snacks, drool, the pulling and tearing of fabric. Who cares if you’re running around the house with your boobs hanging out of your dressing gown, while the family stares on, because you’ve misplaced the sash for it?

When leaving the house, say “bye bye” to your child while they cry and repeatedly mention the car…because they want to get in it and ride around with you and never be abandoned by you ever ever again. Never. Brush off the guilt and turn up the car stereo so you can’t hear the crying. Aargh.

Sing along to your favourite songs (the ones with rude words in them) really loudly in the car. You’ve reached a stage in life where you just don’t give a damn what people think. You’re a mummy. On a mission. Also, you’re trying not to cry because you have so many feelings. SO MANY. You’re alone in a car, you just left your child behind so you could booze it up, you are going to see your friends, you’re exhausted on a whole new level you didn’t realise existed. The little hook on the zip of your dress digs in a bit.

During…

Arrive at your friend’s house for pre-drinks. Pour yourself a vodka and soda water, because it’s “healthy” (bahaha!) and then drink a couple of shots, exclaiming loudly about how strong they are. It will make you feel like you’re being really wild and not a light weight at all, because at home you get drunk off one standard glass of wine, before passing out on the couch at 8pm.

Hug everyone and squeal. It’s a girl thing.

When the bus (yes – party mini van – woo – not to be confused with a mummy’s people mover) arrives, jump in and warn the driver about your loudness. Take selfies while inexpertly trying to figure out how to use the flash on an iPhone, sing along to rude songs and secretly feel satisfied that you are much more fun than the boys are when they hire the party mini van (who do you think recommended the service?)!

Talk about your child for a little while at dinner, but then have a couple of cocktails and start saying much more inappropriate things that involve scoring things from 1-10 and generally hypothesising about the kinds of things you might see in those awful men’s magazines.

The drinking must slow down eventually, because you plan on (legally) driving home from your friend’s place later in the night. You want that damn sleep in – in your own bed! Also? Your friends are that hilarious that you don’t need an alcoholic buzz – seriously.

Visit somewhere that proper ladies (especially the married with kids types) should never enter. What happens on girls’ night, stays on girls’ night. Kind of.

Head to the casino. Wait in line for the night club. Don’t worry. Times have changed. You have to show your ID, have your face scanned by facial recognition software and still remember to pay the dude at the desk a cover charge. It’s like waiting in customs at the international airport. Note that the dress code mentions you can wear 3/4 pants on Sundays. Damn. It’s Sunday and I left my mummy pants at home. Hear that?! I left my mummy pants AT HOME! I’m in a party dress! Let’s goooooo!!!

When leaving the night club, “Beyoncé and Jay-Z” (verb) the f*ck out of there with two of your girlfriends. Someone must sing back up vocals, someone must be Beyoncé and another must rap like a motherf*cking Jay-Z. ALL the way out of the club and down the stairs. You can’t sing high notes. But you try anyway. You are glorious. Again. You get to a stage where you just don’t care. People might look, but you’re not sippin’ on that Haterade.

Complain your feet hurt because you don’t wear heels anymore. Buy MacDonalds.

After…

Eat your cheeseburger in the bus while your seat buddy changes completely into a onesie and pulls a sleeping bag over her (from her massive overnight bag). Look to the left. Your other friend has her dressing gown on. Eventually, everyone falls asleep. Yeah…

Wish you brought a onesie.

Drive a couple of friends home in your family car. You don’t want them to die walking home. Now that you’re older and wiser, you really start to care about that stuff.

Get home. Park outside the garage because the door clunking up and down might wake your child. Tiptoe into the house to hear nothing but silence. By now you’re wearing flat shoes, of course. Relish the feeling of unzipping your rather tight dress (thanks a lot, cheeseburger). Climb into bed with a full face of make up and overly styled hair.

Wake at 7am on the dot, despite being allowed a sleep in. Turns out your body clock doesn’t know you weren’t a mummy last night.

ZOMBIE.

Any questions?? 

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All of the thoughts. All of the feelings.

Today I will mostly just let these pretty, wordy, image-y thingies that I found on the internet speak for themselves. Partly because I’m exhausted and partly because I want to leave it up to you guys to interpret these quotes (and apply them to your life) whichever way you want.

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Just think of how much energy we could save if we just focused on the new, positive way of doing something. It can be human nature to resist even positive (or inevitable and unavoidable) change, but sometimes embracing it can be a good thing for everyone.

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For me, this is about integrity. It’s the tougher times that really bring out your true colours. Stay true to your values no matter what. You can’t go around proclaiming heroic attitudes and beliefs, if you don’t actually put them into practice when it really matters. The every day.

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I don’t want to be a victim. I want to be a survivor. I want to know that despite the obstacles thrown at me, I can choose my own destiny.

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Duh.

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Do I want to protect my child from failure and icky feelings? Of course. But should I? Not always. I want to grow human beings who feel confidence in themselves (not waiting for mummy to dive in and rescue them or take over because she doesn’t believe in their abilities). I want them to know the world doesn’t revolve around them (by dropping everything for them at whatever cost at whatever time). I want them to be considerate, resilient and solve their own problems, giving them a very important sense of empowerment. I want them to be independent and make good decisions.

So that’s quite a mixed bag for this Friday.

What’s on your mind? 

x Find Awesomely Unprepared on Facebook x

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Awake is the new sleep. Which is the new awake. And so on.

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At 19 months of age, the Little Mister has decided that sleep isn’t so cool anymore. While he’s always generally been a great sleeper, we have been through our share of regressions and teething issues! Throw in the sniffles a few times and it’s fun times for everyone!

Whoever tells you that you become an expert at cry analysis is an idiot (and if I ever tried that on you in the past, let’s just put it down to naivety)! Did you know that toddlers are very inventive? Well, they are. They’re like Apple – always creating new versions of old cries so you have to pay more for the updates. And when I say ‘pay more’, I mean with sleep. You pay with sleep. You’re always playing the catch up game. Awesomely unprepared for what comes next.

Combine a toddler’s new, inventive cries (they’re no longer just hungry or wet) with your own need to crack the mystery from your own bed, gripping the baby monitor and trying to breathe…and you don’t get much sleep.

Reasons I’ve been woken in the night (to date): 

  • Hunger (as a little one).
  • Misplaced dummy.
  • Misplaced security blankie.
  • Bad dreams.
  • Separation anxiety.
  • Sleep crying (when he’s genuinely asleep and has no idea the havoc he’s creating).
  • Too cold.
  • Too warm.
  • Teething.
  • Illness (a stuffed up nose can make it hard for him to keep up his dummy addiction).
  • Habit (after a couple of rough nights he’ll just settle into a routine dictated by his new body clock).
  • Too much sleep during the day.
  • Not enough sleep during the day.
  • When he’s been generally restless and has woken himself up, before deciding he feels like looking for a reaction/company. You know, for funsies.
  • When he’s practicing new physical skills (when he first learnt to pull himself up, sit up, crawl, walk etc).
  • Too much noise outside his room.
  • FOMO. That’s Fear of Missing Out.
  • My husband leaving for work in the wee hours.
  • Being in a new environment.
  • Snoring (my husband’s). OK, so this doesn’t belong on the list, but I’d like to point out that the first time the Little Mister slept through after a particularly rough time with his teeth (just before he turned one), my husband took up snoring as a new hobby. THAT NIGHT. Luckily that’s no longer an issue, but at the time the injustice made me see red!

Sometimes I am lucky enough to nap while the Little Mister naps…

BUT…

Lately that hasn’t been going so smoothly either.

The reasons?

  • He’s over tired from the previous night’s sleep or from the morning’s activities.
  • He wakes after one sleep cycle feeling extra grumpy but can’t re-settle.
  • He somehow seems to startle himself awake – perhaps with day time noise in our area.
  • His nap time is constantly changing and his tired signs are getting harder to recognise, because over tiredness can mask them. Also, high levels of grumpiness can have nothing to do with him being tired and can result in him being put into bed too early.
  • Teeth.
  • Illness.
  • He’s not done playing for the morning and starts finding ways to improvise.

Almost all of the things I’ve listed have their own very subtly different cries, whinges and shuffly/banging sounds. I find myself lying awake at night, using the part of my brain that should be saved for doing complicated mathematical calculations or like rocket science or something…when I should be slumbering peacefully. My ears probably move around like top of the range spy equipment, detecting the most subtle information from the sound of a toddler in bed. While following my gut feeling tends to work well, I do still lie there afterwards, doubting my own judgement and reminding myself to stay strong. I find these thoughts do not do much to promote my own sleep.

The Little Mister is also getting better at exercising his own will. So that’s fun.

Before I get all angry at him for disturbing my much needed “zzz”s, I remind myself that he is taking in so much at the moment. He’s learning SO much that he has to fit into his little noggin. Not just development wise, but the things that we are asking of him. Social skills and household rules to follow (simple things like don’t pour your milk all over the floor and then dance in it – we love him finding simple joys but we also don’t love mysterious stale milk aromas coming from strange places). He’s getting a new sense of frustration because the gap between his feelings and wishes and his ability to communicate them effectively is still wide. He gets better all the time, but who wouldn’t find that hard?

This feels like a phase (there’s always a new one – best get used to it) that we need to ride out with love, patience and just the right level of discipline (firm but kind). I can read all the books and all of the dodgy internet sites (there are plenty) I like, but at the end of the day a baby or a toddler can’t read, so they don’t know what to do. Just like there is no one definitive manual on how to be a parent, there isn’t one on how to be a baby either. We’re all just bumbling along, trying our best. The day I lose compassion for my little man will be the day I realise I need to take stock and reassess. There’s a difference between being frustrated at the situation (ie feeling tired and annoyed that you’re a zombie) and directing it at a child that doesn’t know any better or is still learning all of life’s rules. I remind myself of this all the time. There will be a time when the Little Mister is just being an annoying little you-know-what for the sake of it, but that day isn’t here yet. He’s just growing, developing and learning. Often the hard way. It’s my job to be there for him through it all. If I’m exhausted, there’s a good chance the Little Mister is too.

In the mean time I will try not to forget my purse when I go to the shops, to come home with the one item I left home for and to remember why the f*ck I have walked into a place. I will also try to laugh. Except for when the Little Mister is doing something he shouldn’t be doing, but he’s doing it cutely and I have to pretend to be unimpressed.

 

Talk to me, what’s keeping you (or a bub in your life) awake these days? 

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I don’t know what I’m doing, but I like it.

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I’m just going to say it. I have no idea what I’m doing when I enter a day spa/beauty salon style establishment. This is probably because it doesn’t happen very often. Somehow, though, I always feel like I’m supposed to know. I spend every (rare) visit feeling just a little bit stupid. I swear I feel like I’m the only one. I feel a bit weird every (rare) time I get my nails done professionally (not to mention the fact that I lose it with ticklish issues during a pedi). I feel confused when I get some kind of treatment like a massage or a facial. I just want to giggle awkwardly.

It often feels like it’s some lady type skill that I never learnt from anyone. Certainly a first world problem, without a doubt! I think that’s what makes it all the more awkward! I always feel like an imposter.

This past weekend, my husband and his friend (who owed me and my girlfriend – my hubby’s friend’s wife – a few favours) surprised my friend and I with vouchers to get a relaxing 1 hour facial in a nice spa that had two fancy side by side beds. It was a touching gesture from the two guys (who have a bromance like I’ve never seen before) and we raced off, leaving the kids behind in a metaphorical cloud of dust.

We got to the spa and filled out the forms they give to you – the ones where you let them know what you’d like to fix and whether you’ve got any weird allergies or bad beauty habits. I didn’t know what half of the items on the sheet of paper were. I didn’t know what the technical terms for  skin that is “dry in some places but not others” or “I have a bumpy face because I never wash it properly and I’m obsessed with the fact that it feels like I have teensy black heads and tiny hairs everywhere” or “Cleanser, toner and moisturiser?? Ain’t nobody got time for that!”

I was asked what products I used in my beauty and skin care regime and wrote down, “Nivea”, “Body Shop”, “Revlon” (usually gifts I received rather than purchases) and left a rather large amount of boxes empty because I couldn’t remember the names or I didn’t even know what those things did.

I’m really selling myself as an attractive lady, right now.

We were ushered into a gorgeous room filled with the scent of relaxing incense and the sounds of a gushing water feature (not always a good thing when you’ve just polished off a giant cup of tea as my friend realised). We were given some space to get changed (luckily we were told exactly what to do or we might have gotten too naked or not naked enough – awkward). When you get a facial, they usually treat your neck and shoulders too. FYI. We were instructed to climb up onto the comfy beds and get under the sheet. Thing is, with these day spa beds, I swear they always have an extra layer or weird towel bit and you climb in and wonder if you’ve just totally made a fool of yourself by putting yourself under the wrong layer. We were that unsure that we asked! Luckily, we were doing well. I even got a choice about whether I wanted my arms in or out. I chose out. Maybe it’s the part of me that doesn’t like to be restrained. I mean, who knows what might have happened if my arms were tucked underneath the sheet! :P

The girls who gave us our facial treatments were like ninjas. Spa ninjas. At one point they went so silent that I started peeking around from underneath the little cotton thingys they put over your eyes. I may have moved my eyes a little too rapidly because at one point, those cotton things slipped out of position. My ninja was right there (silently and quickly) putting them back. She knew I’d been peeking. How embarrassment.

Later my friend confessed to doing the same thing. We couldn’t figure out where the girls went while we were supposed to be relaxing with various mask treatments and creams on. We kept wondering where those spa ninjas could be. Were they sitting behind us? Did they leave? Yeah, we may need to work on switching off our mum brains.

The spa ninjas worked quietly, not explaining what was happening and so we were left to do a lot of guesswork. That feels like a cleanser. That might be a toner. Is that an oil? Ooh, is this a mask? I hope it does that thing where it goes all hard and crackly so I can’t move my face – like the ones that girls give themselves in chick flicks! Oh, I think that steam thingy is to open my pores up. I wonder what it looks like. Oh, that’s hot. That’s cold. Is she going to massage my head now?

I then tried to tell myself to relax more. I was more relaxed than I usually am running about with the Little Mister, but I was not really relaxed as in peaceful and serene on the inside! I told myself to be more relaxed. I then thought about how I needed to be more relaxed. Started brainstorming ways to feel more relaxed. Thought about all the things that make me not relaxed. Told myself not to think about anything. Couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that I couldn’t think about nothing. Finally found a place of peace…closer to the end. Of course haha. I know my mum would be all “you need to meditate more”, but I have an app for that (I kid you not – I tried it once and my husband kept interrupting my serenity by asking me what it was – not very peaceful).

Afterwards, I felt really good and didn’t even care that I wasn’t wearing make up. It was lovely. However, by the time I next get something like this done, I will have forgotten completely how to conduct myself.

The only solution I can think of for this dilemma is that I obviously need many more surprise spa vouchers in the future!

;)

Please tell me I’m not the only person who feels clueless and awkward upon entering a day spa/beautician type situation?

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(More) Useful Stuff for an Awesomely Unprepared Mother.

OK, so once I posted five must have items for a new mother after being inspired by the purchasing of gifts for a baby shower, I kind of spent the next million years thinking about other ideas to add to the list. Once my list started in my head it wouldn’t stop! My brain wants to explode with all the stuff I’ve found useful and I just have to be obnoxious (but hopefully more helpful or relateable) and share them, as it feels like every female with ovaries that I’ve ever met is pregnant right now :)

Clothing for the baby in larger sizes
All those newborn sized jumpsuits in the shops just make you want to squeal with embarrassingly exuberant delight and buy one of everything for an expectant mother! Sure, she’ll definitely need them, but perhaps throw in a few clothes that come in the 3-6 month and even 6-12 month sizes too. I was so thankful to those who purchased me slightly larger outfits for the Little Mister, because at the 6 month point he was running out of things to wear! Of course I never mind the excuse to go shopping (YAY!) but I had to build his entire wardrobe for each new size range almost from scratch (as you do)! Just keep in mind what season it will be – for example, don’t buy a fluffy, snuggly winter outfit in size 00 if the baby is going to be wearing it in the heat of summer!

At least 7 hooded baby bath towels
OK, so they don’t really have to be hooded. The hood is really a nice touch to keep the baby’s head warm after a bath (which a big enough normal towel can do quite nicely too), but it’s also damn cute.

I rest my case!

I say 7 because that way there’s a fresh one for each day of the week and you have enough spare that you don’t have to worry if you can’t get all of your washing done at once. I bought a few new towels to round off my collection and now I STILL don’t have to worry about running out if I’m struggling to catch up with all my washing right away! It’s a constant rotation of loads of little man clothes (whites or colours), adult clothes, baby towels/bedding etc and adult towels/bedding! Same goes for wash cloths. Have heaps of those too :)

Swaddle-Mes
These were/are amazing. They come in different sizes and they’re so easy to use. Forget all that fancy folding and tucking they teach you in the hospital with a blanket that never stays on. Just use a Swaddle-Me (or similar brand) that has velcro and is shaped perfectly for tucking crazy baby arms inside! Our older relatives call them straitjackets, but don’t listen to them. A lot of babies like the security and as they are uncoordinated early on, their arms can flap about too much keeping them awake. I used mine for what felt like a really long time and now have swapped them for sleeping bags (we made the swap somewhere around 4 months but some other babies can switch a bit earlier or even a bit later)!

Colourful, soft educational toys
When I had my baby shower, I was inundated with all these bright, crinkly, noisy, soft toys for the Little Mister. I looked at the massive pile of them and thought – what the hell? There’s too many! This child is going to be so spoilt! Trust me, they will all be used. When the baby is very young they can’t do much more than look at the bright colours or listen to any music or crinkly sounds that the toys might make, but they’re a welcome distraction from grumpiness and they make the day interesting when you’re staying in. I felt like the Little Mister would get bored of them before he could play with them properly. I was so wrong! At six plus months he began to see them as completely new toys, able to hold them and manipulate them (and shove them in his mouth)! He still has toys that he is yet to discover the true potential of (!) and that makes me really happy! You can switch toys out so they seem fresh when they’re reintroduced and I honestly feel that at this age there can’t be too many (within reason haha)! As a baby he was too young to realise he was being spoilt and was just really excited at exploring everything. They kept him busy. You get a lot of life out of them so they’re a worthwhile addition to a new mum’s swag! Right now at 18 months he still loves the bright colours and he’s into sorting them into categories. Balls go together, then teddy bear type things, stuff that makes sounds and so on! I try to hide some away, but he loves digging around for them anyway!

Nappy wallet
My friends with slightly older babies had alluded to these clever inventions when I was preggo, but I didn’t fully understand at the time. A nappy wallet is just that. It is a streamlined way to keep a couple of spare nappies, some wipes and whatever else your baby needs at change time. If you get an awesome one, it will also fold out into a small change mat! The reason I didn’t understand it at first was because I was in that new mummy phase where I wanted to pack my whole house just for a five minute trip to the shops. I figured I already had everything I needed with me (and then some). Why would I need a nappy wallet too when the stuff was all there in my bag? Here’s why. Sometimes you’re in a rush in a public place (or someone’s house). You can grab the nappy wallet right out of your bag, knowing it has everything in it. There’s no clumsy lugging of your entire nappy bag, trying to use fifty hands/arms you don’t have as you try to change your gorgeous bundle of joy (who may not be a fan of change time) in a small space. Just carry bub and a nappy wallet (which is already stocked up) with you! You can re-stock it after each use (from your surplus supply in your massive nappy bag), so it’s always ready to go! This would be particularly useful in cafes and other eateries when socialising (if you’re lucky enough). You can dash off, leaving your stuff with your trusty friends/partner/doting family :)

Do you have any other great gift ideas for new/expectant mothers? x

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Nostalgia…or a 1/3 life crisis.

Ever since my little music festival jaunt, I’ve rediscovered my love for live music. For that, I am very grateful. It’s like a spark in me has been re-ignited and I’m seizing what’s left of my youth (if anything haha). I’ve decided that I need to see more live acts and feel that electric atmosphere when a band begins to play, the crowd goes off and even the music that can seem lacklustre on your radio, suddenly becomes the BEST SOUND YOU’VE EVER HEARD.

I’ve also been having my 1/3 life crisis (let’s face it, I’m too old for a quarter life crisis and too young for a middle aged crisis), while enjoying national radio station Triple J’s awesome flashbacks to the last 20 years of Hottest 100 songs recently.

This got me thinking about the bands I’ve seen live. I’ve never made a big list. I’m sure it’s a lot more extensive than I think it is. Here are some of the acts I could see over and over. Some highlights.

Silverchair

I was never into Hanson, the Backstreet Boys or whoever the young, fresh faced boy bands of the era were. I was into Nirvana and Silverchair. Grunge, baby. To this day, I am quite proud of ‘past’ me. I had THE biggest crush on Daniel Johns (lead singer/guitarist). I knew everything there was to know about the band. It was ridiculous.

Ben Harper

My husband and I walked down the aisle to this song at our wedding. Mr Harper is seriously talented. It’s ridiculous.

Jack Johnson

My husband and I took our first dance as husband and wife to this song. Now, the Little Mister likes Jack Johnson’s music. I’ve played it to him since he was in my belly :)

Mat McHugh (The Beautiful Girls)

I could sit on a beach and listen to Mr McHugh’s tunes (in all his incarnations) forever. This music is infused into my soul, I swear.

Veruca Salt

Look, there’s a girl rocker in me from way back. It was Veruca Salt and Hole. I would screech along like a mad, angsty teen (I was one) until my mum would quite frankly tell me I’d need a day job. I got to see Veruca Salt at a music festival and I was in girl crush heaven. I was also probably one of very few punters there who knew all the lyrics to all the songs. I felt old even then (maybe 10 years ago?).

 

Who are your favourite bands to see live? 

This post is a part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge. 



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I remember and smile.

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When I try to think of something that someone has told me about myself that I’ll never forget, it’s surprising that it isn’t a positive (or even accurate) comment that springs to mind. Don’t get me wrong, I have had many memorable things said to me that have made me feel loved, appreciated and recognised for my strengths (or gently for my weaknesses). However, sometimes it takes that very ‘special’ someone (I don’t know if I’m being sarcastic or not) to reeeeally get under your skin.

When I was in my early 20s I was feeling a bit lost. I had realised that the teaching degree I’d been working for wasn’t working out and I had to make a choice. Get out and figure out what I really wanted to do or keep going and feel that discontentment every day that you feel when you know you’ve made the wrong choice for yourself.

I got out.

I figured I’d stop and earn some money, while I decided what I really wanted. I’d get some life experience. Maybe have the gap year I’d never had. It sounded wonderful, but I really was floundering. It wasn’t so glamourous. I had little confidence in myself and went for jobs below my abilities. After the most bizarre exchange during a job interview for a second hand jewellery sales position (the employer used a not so subtle but still legal way of telling me that because I was Asian I was likely to be shy and incompetent at selling just like the previous salesperson who WENT BACK TO SINGAPORE WITH HER BOYFRIEND), I decided that I should maybe just settle for a cashier’s job at a local supermarket. Now, I’m no snob. It seemed good enough. It was a job that I could leave at work when I came home and I just had to be friendly, scan the food and pack it nicely. I’d make some money and it would be easy. I could still have fun and be young during my self imposed, delayed, gap year.

Problem was I dealt with racial discrimination (from customers). Several Chinese customers (not all) thought I was Chinese and tried to take advantage of me (expecting special treatment). A portion of the “white” customers thought of me as a walking Asian stereotype (some being very rude about it). My manager at one point, when querying why I didn’t recognise a particularly exotic Chinese vegetable, told me that she thought I had lots of stir fries at home. WTF? I enjoyed the company of my check out colleagues immensely though, and they really did get me through it (most of them students looking to make a bit of money while they studied). Because I wasn’t studying at the time, I felt like people looked down on me. This didn’t help my confidence at all. I also had a FIFO de facto partner (now known as my non FIFO husband) at the time. I was lonely without him and it was a confusing time. I hated working when he was home and I admit there was a crazy co-dependency thing going on (we were young and had a lot to learn). This got me down and I felt unmotivated and lacked the ability to stand up for myself.

I was selected for what I call a “sideways” promotion. I would do a more highly regarded job (with more responsibility) but for the same pay. I was finally going to be in an office again (where a lot of my previous work experience lay). I would count the day’s takings (no small task) and I would handle the invoices for the bakery orders etc. At the time a lady arrived from another store. She was there to help our store because a recent audit had proved us to be struggling. She was basically there to get us back on track. She was the lady who was supposed to train me…

I had NO idea what was going on. She was spread thin all over the place trying to be the fixer of all things. I was starting a new position and didn’t fully understand what the job entailed. One day I made a small mistake in recording the day’s takings and she stormed in, looked at what I’d done and said, “What the hell is this? Didn’t you listen during your training?? UGH. WHO TRAINED YOU??”

It was awkward when I squeaked out, “Um…you are my trainer… and you haven’t trained me…”

On the daily, she would yell at me. One time I cried. I had reached my limits. She was mental and it was making me mental. I was not strong enough to deal with it (don’t worry – I got strong later in this story). She saw me cry, said I was silly, gave me a hug (!) and took me to the bottle store and bought me a can of bourbon. She sent me home with it as if she was my best friend. It was a confusing time!

I decided it was best if I returned to the shop floor before my trial period was up (well within both my rights and those of my employers). I wasn’t there to deal with everyone’s problems – certainly not this lady’s. There were other staff members who preferred the check outs – why couldn’t I? I didn’t want to climb the ladder. I knew I would end up back at uni – I had a future bigger than this. The management didn’t like this. They thought I was a slacker. They didn’t realise my ambitions. They thought I had no other prospects and treated me as such.

Eventually I realised that I needed to get moving on my bigger future. I signed up to become a volunteer phone counsellor and the training clashed with all of my work hours. With my husband’s support, I decided to resign. I could look for work later that would suit me better.

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The last work related thing I was to turn up to was the Christmas party. I had made good friends working there and I felt that it was the right thing to do. I asked my husband to come (partners were welcome) because I might need moral support. He had heard all about my boss by now.

We were talking (the boss zeroed in on me like we were BFFs) about my future plans – beyond the phone counselling (a stepping stone that would count in my favour later) I was planning on studying counselling at university the next year. And do you know what she said? Of course you don’t…

She said in a smug voice, “Kez will never get to uni. She’ll just chat away on the check outs forever.” 

TO MY PARTNER.

Who does that???

Her ignorant and insulting comments stuck with me. They motivated me like never before. I was going to live my dreams (even if I had become confused along the way) and people like her would just stay bitter and angry in the same place forever. She was talking to herself more than she was to me – I’m sure of it.

When I walked onto campus for the first time, upon being accepted to a highly regarded university, I remembered her words and smiled. When I attended my first classes and started to understand what I was learning, I remembered and smiled. When I worked harder than ever before, with more confidence and maturity (giving me the ability to apply myself because I didn’t take my further education for granted – having experienced life away from my passions) I remembered and smiled. When I graduated, I remembered and smiled. I went on to work in a fantastic place – accepted straight off the back of a successful internship as part of my studies. I was promoted and treated well. That was a short lived position unfortunately, but it was on my terms (good terms) that I needed to leave (long sad story). I am now living in a gorgeous place (my home town), with a beautiful son and an even bigger future in front of me – family and career wise. I still look back and smile.

It is my self belief and my ambition that has got me to where I am. Where I plan to go.

Of course I was told so many beautiful, wise and encouraging things by my lecturers, tutors, fellow students, my loved ones and my friends. Those positive things spurred me along, and I will never forget those either. I’ll be forever grateful for my support networks in life. It just stuck with me that a very sad lady was so very wrong about me. That those who get you wrong, try to put you down or knock your confidence, are worth NOT listening to. A very valuable life lesson. All of my biggest detractors (I believe “playas” call them “haters”?) have created their own beds to lie in and I have been blessed with a better life, moving forwards.

So often you hear of these stories. The kid who was told they couldn’t sing a note becoming a successful singer, the one who was supposed to struggle with writing becoming a journalist or an author. The kid who had a tough start, put down from day one by their own loved ones, becoming a successful career person. There’s nothing sweeter than proving you’re more than you once appeared.

I wonder where my old boss is today. I feel genuine compassion for her. I hope she found a way to be happy so that she can make those around her happy.

 

Do you have a similar story? Please do share.

 

*Disclaimer* I have an immense respect for those who work in our supermarkets and other such retail jobs as cashiers. They are the thankless jobs and for some it is a fantastic career opportunity (even a passion or maybe much needed food on the table), while for others it is a stepping stone. I do not begrudge anyone who is doing their best or who is made happy in these career paths. My individual experience was just not so fantastic, but I recognise that for others it is just what they need, and I am not speaking for anyone else but myself. Much love. 

This post is a part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.