May 18, 2013 by KezUnprepared

A friendship from two perspectives.

Today I bring to you a weird documentation of a friendship that has stood the test of time, written from both of our perspectives. It’s been about 16 years (I probably got that wrong because I’m sh*t at maths).

I’ll go first…

Kez Unprepared

I met Ash (who now comes complete with new blog which she totally does not update enough despite showing great promise) in high school. We kept each other company in home room. We made bad jokes and I supported Ash’s love of TV presenter Ray Martin (with the unmoving hair), out of pity because I felt like she needed to not be so weird and alone. Kidding. She wasn’t alone. She was just weird. We bonded over creative writing projects (nerds!) and we enjoyed being all sarcastic about our shared private schooling experiences, mocking the weird social ladders that tend to exist in those environments. I liked Ash for her ability to read people and see through the bull.

Ash is always on the move. Picking up and moving from cool place to cool place, living the bachelorette life (mostly) and enjoying the non-parenting life. Ah, the spontaneity!

Despite our lives being quite different, we always make time for each other (when we can). I don’t think that some of our private Facebook messages should ever see the light of day. We’d probably end up in jail. Actually, I think we once had a conversation about what we would do if we both ended up in jail. Things get pretty wacky when we use technology to communicate. We can start off talking about the meaning of life and then end up talking about jailhouse fashion or quoting Gwen Stefani’s Hollaback Girl song.

That sh*t is bananas.

Ash tends to bitch about parents and people who are married a lot. I am married with a kid, so you’d think our friendship would have imploded by now. Despite all odds, we’re closer than ever. I think I really like Ash’s honesty and it makes me feel like I can be honest too. That’s a good quality to have in a friend.

Also, despite not being a massive fan of kids, she’s quite a fan of the Little Mister. She buys him little presents and loves the silly photos I send her. It’s cute seeing them dance together (to music that may or may not even be playing) in a cafe, while I frantically eat my lunch.

I feel like Ash is a childhood memory that will scar me for life

UPDATE YOUR BLOG, DUDE. Ray Martin would want you to. Do it for Ray Martin and his Lego hair.

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Smokey Douglas aka Ash

So I have this friend called Kez. I’ve known her for a while. We bonded back in the days of high school over our general weirdness and our love for Ray Martin (case in point). We graduated, and remained friends. I went off to uni and graduated and Kez went to a lot of unis, and we remained friends. Kez got married while I continued jumping from bad relationship to bad relationship and we remained friends. Kez had a kid and we remained friends. I moved to Melbourne, to London, to Melbourne and a thousand other hovels in between, while Kez made a family home and we remained friends.

I know what you’re thinking, gosh they must really love Ray Martin. And we do. But there are other things that help keep the friendship alive. Because let’s face it, our lives are pretty much as opposite as you can get, and the things in common (on the surface) are dwindling every year as our lives continue in opposite directions, so as amazing as Ray Martin is (it’s the hair ok!) he can’t keep us together forever.

Kez is my friend who I can turn to no matter how shit the situation and she will make me laugh. Well actually her manipulation of her son makes me laugh. Who doesn’t love getting sent a picture of 2 year old smiling cheekily into the camera, with a caption that says “Hey Ash, I’m not wearing pants!”

She’s also honest. She doesn’t just put a smile and pretend everything is fine and dandy. If her day is shit, she’ll tell you. If she’s struggling, she’ll say. It’s a lot easier to turn to a friend and say “I’m having a bad day and I feel like a failure” when you know you won’t be judged in return.

The best part of Kez though is that she has a sense of humour. I don’t understand children, nobody gave me the manual to read, so I am constantly saying things and doing things that I think most mums would take serious offence too. Like my approach to mother’s day; “how come I don’t get a day where I get lavished with presents to celebrate the fact I’m smart enough to use birth control?” Or my approach to raising a child; “Can’t you just shove it in the Ikea ball pit and go to the pub?” While yes, she probably takes offence, she also laughs! Whether it’s at me or with me, well minor details people!

So while Ray Martin still holds a special place in my heart, Kez has become more than that. She is a friend that stands the test of time and I know no matter what, she’ll always cheer me up, have a giggle and nag me to death to update my blog.

This post is a (loosely interpreted) part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.

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May 14, 2013 by KezUnprepared

10 things that make me very happy.

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1. Making it through a tough day and still feeling strong. Today has been the mother of all days. Nothing particularly ridiculous has happened, but it was tiring. I forgot to pack the stroller back into the car before setting off to Toddler Jam (an hour of toddler filled ~~chaos~~ dancing and singing). That was fine, but the Little Mister showed distinct signs of conjunctivitis DURING THE SESSION (and was getting grumpier by the minute) so we had to high tail it out of there. To a pharmacy. Who told us that we would need a prescription for the special eye drops because of the Little Mister’s tender age. So we headed to the doctor’s clinic. Who couldn’t fit us in until later that afternoon. Keep in mind how many times that involves putting him in a car seat and taking him out (right on nap time), plus holding him in my arms when he’s heavy and wriggling. Brought him home for a nap, which went pretty well except for the fact that he was woken by my dog barking at something. We got to the doctor’s on time (after a rushed lunch), only to have to wait 40 minutes in the waiting room. SO WRIGGLY AND GRUMPY FROM A SORE EYE. Back to the pharmacy. Then home. Still no stroller because I’m an idiot.

Despite all that, I finished the day stoked with my efforts. We’d solved the problem (or at least got treatment) and despite being physically exhausted I didn’t feel like melting down or snapping at anyone. I didn’t palm him off onto my husband (who worked late to help us enjoy date night later this week) and I didn’t even want to! I even feel like telling tomorrow to BRING. IT. ON.

There’s no better feeling than the feeling of being mentally strong and knowing you’ve worked hard.

2. Sunshine and the ocean. I could never live anywhere away from the ocean and a sunny climate. When I feel lost or drained, just the sight and the smell of the ocean recharge me. I need to remember this a bit more often.

3. Sleep ins. Duh.

4. Watching the Little Mister grow. His personality cracks me up. There is no joy like watching him as he learns something new. Each day (OK so maybe only 99% of days) is honestly a celebration of SOMETHING.

5. The anticipation before a date night. Date nights are almost unheard of for my husband and I these days. We have had date days and snuggles on the couch with a nice home cooked dinner after the Little Mister has gone to bed, but it’s hard to commit to date nights. This week we’re going to watch Ahn Do’s show – The Happiest Refugee. I couldn’t be more excited. Thanks to my awesome parents, we get a whole day and night to ourselves (and only ourselves) for maybe the first time ever in 18 months. We need to somehow do this more often. I just hope the Little Mister behaves!!

6. My DVR. Seriously. You don’t even understand. It has changed parenthood. If you are able to, before you bring your first baby home, GET A DVR. When you’re up at all crazy hours, you’ll always have something awesome to watch that you chose to record. No weird home shopping network crap in the middle of the night. No missing out on your favourite shows (the ones that start at 9:30pm) because you passed out from exhaustion constantly. I can watch whatever I want whenever I want. I can save all the shows inappropriate for children and watch them by myself at night time. I can pause the TV if the Little Mister wakes up in the night and not miss any of my show/s just because he’s having a tough night. It is seriously one of the best gifts my husband has ever bought for me. I might be MONTHS behind with my favourite shows, but going at my own pace is fine

7. The Little Mister’s cuddles. Nothing makes you feel more important or loved. Especially when his face lights up and he takes a giant run up, like he hasn’t seen you in years. Even though all you did was spend 5 minutes in the kitchen. Ask my husband. The cuddles he gets when he walks in the front door after work are just priceless.

8. Music. My life has to have a soundtrack. I need to sing along badly to something. Music makes the Little Mister so happy. There just has to be music in my life. Music in my car. Live music (I remembered this last weekend).

9. Avocados. Seriously.

10. The supportive people who read my blog regularly. You are all amazing and make me feel like all this is 10 times more fun when there’s someone to share it with. In all honesty, I’d probably blab on about my crazy thoughts regardless, because a part of me just has to, but it is so nice to know that people care. I love my blog readers and I love my blogging friends. Thank you

Of course, I have so many more amazing things in my life, but I think 10 is enough for now

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

May 7, 2013 by KezUnprepared

The thing I’m most afraid of.

Last night, I was trying to gather some thoughts together for today’s blog post. I wanted to list my greatest fears and I was not exactly coming up with much. All I could think of is my fear of spiders. Especially the ones with the big, bulbous, black bodies and hairy legs. Oh, holy sh*t they freak me out. I can’t even bring myself to show you guys a picture of exactly what I mean, because that would involve finding a picture and looking at the picture. I can’t even.

I thought about how I have a fear of being rejected or misrepresented. I get really angsty when someone has got me all wrong or wants to smear my good name. Or even threaten to. I’m generally a pretty good person and the idea of someone either not recognising that or being willing to paint me as a not so good person does freak me out. I mean, I’m not a perfect person, but I’m not a bad person with ill intent. If something’s true, I’ll cop to it even if it hurts like hell. I just won’t stand for being misjudged or misunderstood. However, I don’t know if I’d strictly call this a fear so much as insecurity. I think there’s a slight difference.

I then thought that perhaps I have a fear of writing this blog post because it could get pretty deep and revealing pretty fast. So do I have a fear of being vulnerable? Of people judging me for my deepest feelings? Perhaps.

Could I just write a funny post about being scared of the Little Mister not napping enough or the weird dream I told my husband about (he may tell you he was under duress), where we found people living in our roof space, but it was OK in the end because we sent them away in a minivan? You know, to avoid writing about my truest fears?

I decided to ask my husband what he thought my biggest fears are. I thought I’d get a joke answer back, to be honest. But what he said rang very true.

“I think your biggest fear would be losing the Little Mister.”

Yep. There it is.

It’s the one place that I cannot let my mind fully go to. It is just too hard to comprehend. The pain would be so awful. The broken dreams too heartbreaking. To suddenly have the best thing in your whole wide world taken from you. Gut wrenching wouldn’t even cover it. I know that you grieve and you never get over it, but that hopefully with love and support you learn to accept it and live with it – people have to do it all the time – but I just hope and pray that I never ever have to know this pain.

I can’t even type any more about this, because I am lucky enough today to not have to go there and I choose not to because of my fear.

In saying that, I don’t let this fear rule me. I look after the Little Mister and I try to protect him as best I can, but I don’t want to be paranoid or always thinking something bad is going to happen (if you do, please ask somebody for help).

I feel so blessed that despite having fears that range from the silly (spiders) to the deep and truly scary (losing the Little Mister), I do not have to live in fear daily. I think fear is a very natural part of life – a certain amount can be healthy, but I am so glad that my fears do not cripple me or stop me from living my life. I don’t want to be scared of things that have not happened yet.

It’s hard work being brave, isn’t it?

What are you most afraid of?

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

May 6, 2013 by KezUnprepared

So…what do you do?

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Yep. It’s a question that we are asked constantly. It is also a question we ask others. It’s the standard small talk topic when we meet somebody new. We seem to define ourselves by what we do for paid work…or what we’re studying/training to be. As a stay at home mum, this question can be an interesting one to answer. And by ‘interesting’, I mean ‘awkward’.

I don’t have paid work, so I have to define myself by much more than that. It’s hard to do. We’ve been socialised to believe that our self worth comes from our job title. How we use our qualifications. At times it has been implied that I am wasting my talents by ‘just’ being a parent. I am sh*t at thinking on the spot when somebody asks me what I do. I usually just mumble something like, “I’m just at home with the Little Mister for now…”

And then I hate myself. JUST? JUST?! I sound like I’m apologising for doing the most important job of my life!! Being a stay at home parent is not for everyone. And that’s cool. This blog wants nothing to do with the constant ‘mummy wars’ that we see all over the internet. This is a safe place, y’all.

Sorry, just had to make myself clear…now where was I?

Some people feel most fulfilled being full time stay at homers, while others feel complete working outside the home as well as being parents. I think I’m a member of the former group. However, I find comfort in knowing that because of a wonderful thing called feminism, I have the right to choose and change my mind at any time. Nothing is a life sentence. Which is why I find it ludicrous that there are even ‘mummy wars’ in the first place. Why do we need to label everything/everyone and keep them in a little box in our minds? Right now I love what I do ‘at home’.

I don’t want to apologise for being a stay at home parent. I don’t want to feel like I can’t admit that I love it and that right now, it’s enough for me. I have talents and qualifications. I am lucky enough to be an educated person, due to many opportunities I’ve been afforded in life. However, I find it funny when it’s implied that I am wasting my talents.

I am qualified in behavioural science and counselling. Um…hello…what do you think parenting is???

Being a mum is my job. Running a household. In no way does that make me a 50s housewife, in case you’re getting some funny ideas. Just ask my husband. Feminism is very alive and kicking between our four walls and gender roles are blurred to all hell, just the way I like it!! I just choose to be at home right now, because selfishly I enjoy the Little Mister so much and also because for practical reasons, my husband is the breadwinner. There’s nothing to say that might not change one day.

So…what do I do if I’m not earning money?

I am raising a tiny future contributor to society and that is my contribution. I want him to grow up to be someone that will help our world to be a better place. I want him to know everything from the less significant (using manners and realising the world does not revolve around him) to the more significant (that he has the ability to create change and to stand up for what he believes in). I want him to be a ‘giver’ and not a ‘drainer’. I want him to change the lives of those he is surrounded by for the better. I am doing everything I can to guide him towards the right values and opportunities. Sure, he’s only 18 months old but by giving him a secure foundation to start from, I know I’m doing everything I can. This is not a task exclusive to stay at home mums by the way. I am talking about motherhood/parenthood in general.

I am a writer. A blogger. Sure, I’m not paid to do it, but it’s a big part of who I am. It’s how I express myself and how I share myself with the world (or at least a very tiny percentage of it). It gives me a sense of worth. Not because I have readers who are lovely and pump up my ego constantly (thank you anyway), but because I can do some of the things I might have done at paid workplaces. Use a computer, stay up to date with technology (kind of) and social media trends. Stretch my brain muscles. Set goals for myself to achieve. Self imposed deadlines and objectives for my little piece of internet real estate. I can communicate with the adult world daily. Even help others on occasion!

I love the daily puzzle of being a ~~stay at home~~ parent. Just like any job it is what you make of it. It takes enormous levels of discipline (and I don’t just mean staying strong when your toddler is lying on the floor crying because you took the broom off him before he could smash the television screen with it). Housework, appointments, bills and budgets, quality time with your child, figuring out how to revolve life around a demanding little tornado of a human. It takes a lot of juggling. You don’t always feel like you’re getting it quite right. I just enjoy the challenge. I feel like I’m my own boss (even if my little underling is not really with the program yet haha). I feel a sense of satisfaction when everything has flowed right, because I like to fool myself into thinking it was my superior time management skills that made a day successful (it was most likely that the toddler just cooperated well but I’ll take the credit). I love each new day getting a chance to figure out how to make it work better. Yeah, I bet half of you just spewed a little in your mouth just then. I’m sorry.

I love to see friends. I love to cook (when I have time). I am a huge social justice freak and will read anything I can on the issues people face around the world. I love stand up comedy – take me to a show and we’re friends for life (even if the comedian is drunk and ranting about how horrible women are due to a recent break up and then it’s all awkward…it might have happened once). I have been a sucky real life friend lately, but I’m quite a social person…who doesn’t mind a cocktail or three. I am a home owner (and so grateful to be). I’m a sister, wife (separately – I’m not a sister wife – commas are very important), mother, friend.

We all have so much to offer outside of the great things we can do in paid employment. Our jobs are only an element of a bigger picture of who we are, what we have to offer, and what we do.

At the end of the day, I guess all that matters is that we do something what brings happiness or joy, not just to ourselves but others. Paid or otherwise

So…what do you do? And I don’t mean your job.

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

May 3, 2013 by KezUnprepared

Things that make me uncomfortable.

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A lot of things make me uncomfortable. Budget airline seating. Running. Too much ice cream. Holding the ~~not so~~ Little Mister in one arm for five minutes while trying to pay for something at the shops. Anybody else’s pillows except for mine. Kneeling beside the bath each evening, trying to be close enough to make sure the Little Mister doesn’t fall over and sustain an injury (or overdose on the consumption of a random bubble bath brand that you found in the cupboard because he ran out of his normal type and you couldn’t be effed going to the shops that day – parenting ~~fail~~ win).

I mean, those are the physical things.

But what about my social foibles?

Small talk in the supermarket/doctors’ surgery/anywhere.

I suck at it. I’m not talking about small talk at parties, bars or places you go to socialise and stay a while. I’m talking about the places you go in your every day life. The places where you have a task to complete, before moving on. Don’t get me wrong, nine times out of ten I really do like running into nice people that I know. I just don’t know how long to talk for and when to exit the conversation politely (or how)! It’s like you say, “Hi! How are you today? Yes, the Little Mister has grown and yes he is cute. What have you been up to? Oh, not much? Just working and stuff? OK, good to see you…um…”

I know I’m not the only one. Almost all of my conversational colleagues display a similar awkwardness. Maybe there needs to be some universal code/signal where everyone bows out gracefully at some kind of socially pre-approved moment. So no-one has to do the…”Well, I’ll um…let you get back to your shopping…” or the, “Well, I had better keep moving, I suppose…” thing. No matter how nicely put that is, it never feels entirely comfortable. Am I right or am I right?

It’s particularly uncomfortable when you keep running into the exact same person at the supermarket every time. Do you say something? Do you not say anything, just smile or wave? AWKWARD. Just awkward.

Walking onto an aircraft with a small child.

As you look for your seats, you can feel eye balls on you. Just following your every move. Are they going to sit near my seat? Are they not? Oh, phew/dammit they are/not. Suddenly, you’ve become the enemy of air travel society. Public enemy number one. You know this, but you’re trying to act all nonchalant as you panic on the inside. WHAT IF THEY’RE RIGHT? WHAT IF MY CHILD IS AN AWFUL LITTLE CRETIN? PLEASE DON’T BE A LITTLE CRETIN TODAY!! You sit there tense, until the plane takes off. The only relief you get is when there is a child fifteen rows up who is much much worse than your own. You feel the spotlight shift and you start counting down the hours and minutes until you land.

Speaking up when there’s something wrong with my food.

Having worked in customer service for a number of years (you name it I’ve done it – well not anything illegal or…sexy but you get what I mean), I know what it’s like to have b*tch customer after b*tch customer. Some have valid complaints, and others…well, there’s a special place in hell for those people (they are the same people who write weekly complaint letters to the local papers). While I realise the avocado in my pasta dish is brown and the prawns seem a little…off…I will still say, “Yeah, no problems here. Thanks!” when asked if my meal is alright by the waitstaff. Yep. I’ll risk food poisoning in order to be the nice customer. Idiot.

Driving the Little Mister to his immunisation appointments.

For some reason these appointments always end up being in the late morning. That gives just enough time for the Little Mister and I to go through the normal motions of life at home, before I have to bundle him up and into the car for our ride to DOOM. It’s not really doom. It’s a few little jabs in the arms/legs which could ultimately save his life and the lives of all others in the first world, but at the time I feel so much dread. Will he cry lots? Will I then want to cry lots? How many heartbreaking days/nights of grumpy, irritable, feverish side effects are we both in for? Why does he always seem to be extra well behaved, affectionate and cheerful and smart RIGHT BEFORE HIS NEEDLES? It makes it seem all the more cruel. I get that whole, “Why am I stressing? It’s just his needles. Can he tell I’m stressing? Stop stressing!” mindset. I know. It’s dumb. But I find it very uncomfortable.

Public transport.

WHERE DO I PUT MY EYES?? WHY IS THAT GUY LOOKING AT ME??

Thinking too much in hotel rooms.

I don’t mind a nice getaway in a reputable hotel. A great treat. A touch of romance? An escape from the housework and routine at home? Celebration of an anniversary, maybe? Room service and pay TV, anyone?

It’s only when I think about it too much that I get very uncomfortable very quickly. I used to watch a lot of CSI. I’ve seen all those episodes where they spray that stuff on everything and then shine one of those blue light things on the bed and the toilet. All the human bodily fluids lighting up like a pretty neon artwork. I start wondering how many people have stayed here before me. Whether the sheets have been washed properly. Did the cleaners change the blankets out? What is that white, crusty stain on the chair in the corner? God, I hope it’s yoghurt. Do you spell it yogurt or yoghurt? Oops. Got distracted…

OMFG SOMEONE HAD SEX IN THIS HOTEL ROOM BEFORE I GOT HERE.

Well, duh. But still. Makes me uncomfortable. Don’t even talk about how I feel about the spa tub or the occasional pubic hair found between sheets or on the carpet.

AAAARGH!!!!!

People complimenting me on my dodgy DIY manicures.

I can’t often afford to get my nails done professionally. I also like Pinterest. I guess you can see how those two factors fit together. I try different things all the time (usually as a little Friday night pick me up), before showing my husband and having him give the “Is this a trap?” face when I ask if he likes my nails. I admit, it’s pretty hit and miss, but it’s fun to do.

People often notice my *ahem* unique nail designs and say, “Oh wow. I love your nails.”

I then awkwardly try to hide them and mutter, “Thanks…I was just messing about…”

I get scared people will look too closely and discover just how bad they are. Inconsistently placed nail art. Chipped polish. Amateurish shaping of my nails. Eek!

Uncomfortable.

Having tradies working at my house.

I never know the etiquette. Do I offer them a drink? Am I supposed to make small talk? Do I leave them to it? Is it OK to disappear into another room – what if they need to ask me something? Do I act natural? Of course I realise that they (hopefully) have better things to do than analyse what I’m doing, but nonetheless I feel awkward. If I go about my domestic duties, I feel weird. If I don’t and I’m just on the computer or have the TV on, I feel like they think I do nothing all day, every day. I have no idea how to act. What if they ask me a question and I don’t know the answer? What if there’s a chance I’ll say the wrong thing and then everything goes all pear shaped? What if I don’t notice they’re doing a bad job until it’s too late and they’ve gone home?

Maybe it’s just the idea of letting strangers onto my property or something. Gets me all weird. I am just not that cool.

That moment I click “pay now” on an online purchase.

The discomfort only lasts for a few short minutes, but immediately upon committing to an online transaction, I feel this crazy rush of adrenaline and freak out. I think I’m still a kid inside. The kid who shouldn’t be allowed to use a credit card or make decisions on the internet. I feel like I’ve done something naughty and OH MY GOD, WHAT IF I REGRET THIS?

I probably need therapy or something.

Chill out, lady. It’s just a book or something. Hmm. Better make that a self help book. Sigh.

When everyone wants to share their meals in a social situation. But I don’t.

Because I am a hungry, greedy woman who DOES NOT WANT TO SHARE, BUT CAN’T TELL ANYONE BECAUSE THAT’S SELFISH. I am a horrible person.

Please tell me I’m not alone…or let me know where I can get help haha.

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

May 2, 2013 by KezUnprepared

The story of my life. In 250 words.

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I was born in 1984. In South Korea. Adopted at 5 months old to Australia. Yep, I became “Aussie, mate.”

Seriously. I don’t like spicy food and I’m sh*t at using chopsticks.

I was a little bit smart. I got promoted to one day a week in grade 1, when I was supposed to be in Pre-Primary. My parents kept me with kids my own age so I would develop socially at the right pace.

I was a difficult teen. All about grunge, punk rock and rebellion. At home after school and on weekends, of course. At school and in society, I was really probably too scared to be a hell raiser. My mum copped it all instead.

Met my (now) husband when I was 18. Moved out not long after. Stuff got better with my mum. Now we’re best friends. I’m proud of us. Got married in 2007.

I went to university and tried teaching. Dropped out. Worked at a supermarket. This made me realise I wanted more. Mostly because my manager thought I ate stir fries every day and another made me cry almost daily and then would buy me alcohol and tell me that I’d never be anything more than a check out chick. Became a volunteer phone counsellor, before returning to uni to do a Bachelor of Behavioural Science with a minor in counselling. Loved it. Worked in Community Development. Life changed (long story).

Got preggo in the eggo in 2011. Started my blog. Had the Little Mister. Love being a mummy.

This was my life story in 250 words. It’s a part of the Blog Every Day in May challenge.

April 24, 2013 by KezUnprepared

Hump Day Hell Yeahs.

It’s Wednesday. Hump day. I’ve decided that while conquering Monday-itis with great inspirational posts (well they inspire me because I wrote them for me at least haha), it’s hump day that really requires a self inflicted kick up the backside. By then I know if I’m in the right mindset or not. By Wednesday, I know if I’m being a Negative Nancy or a Positive Peggy. So I dub today’s (and any subsequent) posts Hump Day Hell Yeahs. Because all the other corny inspirational days are taken. Trust me. I googled that sh*t. There’s Motivational Monday, Midweek Motivation, every variation of TGI Friday (TFIF included).

So anyway, enough of my struggle with originality…

Lately I have been feeling a little bit bogged down in my blogging and I think it’s because my mind has been all over the place. I feel a bit tired of mentioning the loss of my grandfather, my trip interstate and my damn coccyx (although Twitter copped most of that issue). I feel like I’ve even come across as defensive of my parenting skills. And while I know that everything I’ve blogged has been a reflection on my real life and what has been happening for me, I feel like I’m stuck in that space. I keep willing funny, witty, light hearted things to flow out of my fingers and onto my shiny new laptop (Happy Birthday to me!), but it’s not really happening the way I’d hope.

I need to stop repeating myself and get out of a rut. Pay respect to what has been happening in my life, but keep stepping forwards. It’s kind of a theme for me these days. So let’s go:

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Sometimes I give myself a hard time for the past day, week, month, year, decade. I get mad at myself for making certain choices or not believing in myself. Perhaps I can even compensate with extra bravado these days (making me seem a little brash and hard). However, I need to realise that it was not the same me who made those past decisions. I’m an improved version these days. More confident, wiser, more mature. In no way have I reached my optimum confidence, wisdom or maturity levels – LONG way to go with a whole life ahead of me – but I know I’ve come further in my journey. I need to look forwards and keep trying to be the best person I can be.

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I lost a couple of Facebook followers this week (literally 2). Perhaps I’ve been boring, perhaps they didn’t like my views. Did they sense the rut I’ve been in? Or did it have nothing to do with me – they could have deleted their whole accounts or slimmed down completely on the Facebook pages they liked. Who knows? But I have to think, who cares? I don’t want followers who don’t like what I’m about and they are probably feeling good that I’m not in their newsfeeds anymore. How is that a problem? Not everyone is for everyone! I can be cool with that! I’ve had my two minutes (one for each lost follower) of insecure neurosis! I’m moving forwards

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Haha. If you know me really well, you’ll laugh at this one. I am the queen of overthinking. Overexplaining. Over…everything. I think my blogging has suffered because I haven’t been believing in what I’ve been writing? I mean, I believe every word I’ve written to be true to me, but I’ve doubted my ability to be appealing to anyone else. I’ve overthought it. This blog started for me to express myself and share my stories. If I stay true to that, I should just bloody get on with it. I’ll have good weeks and not so good weeks. I hope someone out there is interested in my life as it unfolds.

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Look, I’m not proud of it, but I’ve been feeling a little snarky and smart arsey lately. I know I’m not quite back to my positive self (my usual nature). I also know I’m not really even trying to be. Yeah. I know. I need to work harder. Put out more positive energy. What we put out is what we get back.

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This has been the desktop picture on my (old) laptop for months. Every time I look at it, it boosts me. Reminds me to keep perspective. A lot of tough stuff has been going on around the world lately and my problems are really not much more than the first world variety (well, Boston is in the first world but you know what I mean). Might be real and tough for me, but I need to remember how much worse it could be and give thanks for what I have. I don’t want one ‘unfollow’ or a throwaway comment in real life, or a silly thing to not go smoothly, to wreck my whole outlook on life. My happiness. I deserve my happiness and there’s no need for me to be the a**hole who keeps taking it away from myself!!!

Happy Hump Day, everyone. Can I get a HELL YEAH???

What blessings in your life do you have today?

Find Awesomely Unprepared on Facebook

I feel better already xoxo

February 18, 2013 by KezUnprepared

Inspiration.

So I’m totally feeling the Monday blues. Often each weekday blurs into another when you’re a 24/7 parent, but occasionally, I feel overwhelmed by the beginning of a new week, rather than excited and motivated. So as I always do when I feel a bit crazy, the Little Mister is teething, the ‘nap’ thing just isn’t happening (for either of us) and plans just aren’t shaping up well (usually resulting in stir craziness or mummy guilts), I need to find myself some inspiration to turn my Monday into a good day.

Gotta start the week off right, don’t you think?

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I’ve got to be mentally strong in this crazy stay at home mum job. Have to hold on when things get tedious or screechy. I have to find it in me to push on and be positive about it. I need to be proud of the things I do. I don’t want to be a big, snotty mess when my husband gets home from work. I want to remember I’m awesome and I’m totally kicking arse.

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I need to realise it’s OK when things don’t go to plan. Sometimes you just have to improvise or ride out the hiccups in life. I have to remember to just tap into my creative side and make something work for us. It’s not the end of the world! No need to feel guilty!

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When I feel stuck in a rut and I get all, “Why is life not like the life I want? Why am I not living up to who I want to be?” I have to have an action plan. Not just a wishlist. I need to get moving and make things happen. It’s the only way to get out of that stale headspace. Make my environment nicer, show someone that I really care about them, make plans for the Little Mister that will make both of us feel good.

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I must remember that even if I can’t get things happening as quickly or as smoothly as I would like, progress is progress and as long as I make the best of my opportunities, I shouldn’t give myself a hard time.

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This last one has a very personal meaning for me – I’m working on it every day.

What is inspiring you this week?

January 23, 2013 by KezUnprepared

Being alone. What does that mean to you?

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OK, so I know I’m getting old (oooh 29 this year – anyone reading this who is older than me may roll their eyes right *now*) when I start to watch shows on any of the (Australian) ABC channels that nobody has probably ever heard of. If they involve nature and British ‘celebrities’ (who I know nothing about), then I get bonus old person points. I don’t know why I think of it like that. I guess I figure if it’s something my parents would watch, I feel old because only a little while ago, these are the types of shows I would mock them for liking. What goes around, comes around. Damn!

Lately I have been moderately enjoying a show called Alone in the Wild. The concept is simple. A so called British celebrity is left alone somewhere really wild for a week. They have to survive on whatever they find to eat and drink, but they mostly end up eating some bland kind of rations and moaning a bit. They film their experiences themselves and they usually have to try not to get eaten by various wild animals.

Last night I was outraged because the show featured two women – TOGETHER in the wild. I was ready to write an angry letter. That’s not being alone. The show is called ALONE IN THE WILD. Well, I just tweeted my outrage more than anything – it’s like this generation’s way of writing really angry letters in 140 characters or less. I am sure the twitter world really found it very engaging and topical…

Anyway, besides the fact that these celebrities appear to have very discreet trackers who are secretly keeping an eye on them from a distance the whole time, these people seem to really still feel what it’s like to be truly alone for an extended period of time (except for those two chicks – sigh).

This got me thinking. In today’s world, we’re never truly alone are we? We can feel lonely, but are we really alone? I spent a lot of time ‘alone’ before I had the Little Mister, because my husband used to work long hours away from home, usually for a week or two at a time. I would be at home by myself a lot. I generally like my own company, but I am a social creature by nature. Even when we’re alone, we still have social networking, blogs, some kind of interaction with the rest of the world these days. It can be hard to switch off when we have a friggin’ mini computer for a phone! We can be equally annoyed by this as we are comforted.

It would be pretty amazing to have to test your willpower and mental strength, living in a world where you truly cannot rely on anyone else – even for a week. No dropping down to the shops because you’re hungry. No communication devices. Just you and your dodgy survival skills.

I think I could do it if I had to. I am just not so sure I’d like it to be filmed. Think about it. If you were actually being watched while you did all the things you normally do when you think nobody can see you…

Here’s how I think my week would play out:

Day 1: I would be really really excited because, hey, I don’t get much me-time anymore. I’d probably do a few happy dances on the way out to my remote African wild location. I’d then feel very strange when the truck of people drove away. I’d talk to myself a bit. Do another happy dance for good measure. Give myself a pep talk about how good it is to be alone. A few hours in, I would crave a meal that can only be found in…well, not in the wild. I’d have the camping stuff down pat. I’d get my tent up really fast and I’d be all happy because there were no other people there to mess it up.

Day 2: I would realise I’m not really a fan of myself without make-up (I tend to get feral verrrry quickly) and after probably half the day I would look like Tom Hanks on Castaway (with or without a beard). Yes, I am very attractive. Also, I am a little bit nutty. I would talk to myself. I would talk to inanimate objects. I would probably just start doing things like picking my nose and squeezing zits because no-one could see me. I would try to sing old pop songs from the 90s, getting all the words wrong and giggling.

Day 3: I’d just be a hot mess, all alone with my thoughts. I’m sure my mind could dredge up all sorts of unresolved issues from the past to work through. Well, that would be fun. I’d comfort eat some semi toxic berries and moan about feeling gross.

Hippos and lions would be less scary.

After that first few days I would probably not be very interesting to watch.

Days 4-7: I’d probably write in a journal the whole time (the original way to blog) and be too scared to venture from camp in case I got eaten…by mosquitos. Or something like a tiger or whatevs.

Then I’d come home and write a book about my transformative experiences, selling millions of copies to silly people.

Just kidding. I’d just tweet about it and check Facebook. Oh, look. Jimmy O’Clacker (not a real Facebook friend) went to the gym again and Sally McDumdum (not a real Facebook friend either but how awesome am I at making up names?!) is sad but won’t tell us why!

Actually, I’d probably just be stoked to eat a sandwich and I would never take my home and its creature comforts for granted ever again…well, for another week or two, before I forgot everything. Let’s be honest.

Look, I’m clearly very exciting. I’m basing an entire blog post on a TELEVISION SHOW. I’m not even being paid to do it. Obviously, I would be a riveting celebrity to watch Alone in the Wild. Well, if I was actually a celebrity…

Just slap me if I ever start watching old school British crime shows that are set in small villages in the countryside – the types of shows where my parents ooh and aah at the scenery, and there are never any surprising plot twists. Slap me twice if I ever base entire blog posts on them…

Seriously, though…how often do we actually spend time alone with our thoughts? Give ourselves time to reflect and process what’s going on in our lives? How often do we race about, trying to forget feelings and push them down? Distract ourselves from the things that make us feel uncomfortable? Maybe sometimes it’s a good idea to switch off the technology and just be. The concept of being ‘alone’ often has negative connotations attached to it, but in healthy amounts there is no reason it can’t be good for the soul

How would you cope Alone in the Wild? What would you do if you thought no-one was watching?

June 9, 2012 by KezUnprepared

Back in MY day…

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I can’t believe how far the world has come with technology and social habits since I was a little kid myself. It’s crazy, really. Mobile phones used to be the size of bricks and only fancy business people had them. The internet was not all that exciting, except for the thrill of giggling with your 14 year old friends as you snuck into chatrooms your parents would be having a heart attack over if they knew. Computer games had graphics with square pixels the size of small countries and if you wanted to listen to music you had to use a cassette player, rewinding and fast forwarding until you could listen to your favourite song over and over and over and over. Heaven forbid if the tape got worn out and started scrunching up in the player. You’d have to save up all your pocket money to replace it…then leave your house to go to the shops where you’d buy it!

I sound like I’m about 100 years old (and yes sometimes I do feel it when I’ve had one too many sleepless nights), but I’m only 28. It’s crazy how fast the world is moving these days.

I hope that I’ll be able to be one of the kind of/sort of cool mums that isn’t too embarrassing, but just embarrassing enough that I fulfil my duty as a parent. It just wouldn’t be a childhood if your mum didn’t embarrass you just a little bit, right? I like to think that I’ll probably keep up enough to know what music my kids are listening to (although that whole Call Me Maybe/One Direction thing has thrown me so maybe I’m not that cool), get a feel for what television shows they’ll be watching and keep an eye on the movies they might try to sneak into before they’re old enough. I also hope I’ll be able to still use the internet and be proficient at using the iPhone 15 by the time it is released (seriously – so gonna happen).

In saying that, I think I’ll be a bit old school. Some of my values just won’t be changing easily. Which will make me soooo unpopular. I might look back on this in 13 years and realise I was being ridiculously idealistic, but I hope I’ll stay true to my vision of my parenting future.

“Go outside and use your damn imagination!”
I want my kids to play make believe. I want them to run around pretending to be characters from their favourite kids shows (the original fan fiction) and make their own props and costumes out of old clothes and bits of garden junk. I don’t want to be afraid that if they hang out in the yard they’ll make a mess or stab themselves with something or catch some kind of dirt related disease. When I was a kid, I ran around like a crazy person digging holes (my parents lived on an acreage so it was allowed), building things out of sticks and branches and getting physically active (I sound like Huckleberry Finn or something). I didn’t rely on video games, the latest gadgets or the “real” toy shop merchandise to dress me up as my heroes/make believe characters. I would scrape my knees falling off my bicycle and while I was protected and cared for, I was never wrapped in cotton wool. I know times have changed and we’re far more aware of evil predators and various illnesses and while I will adapt to the times, I like to think my kids will have a bit of freedom to explore their independence and stay socially active (IRL that is).

“Turn that off when we’re eating dinner and look at me when I speak to you!”
Yep. I’m gonna be a stickler for manners. No kid of mine is going to get away with staring past me at a screen while I talk to them about something important. They’re not going to be texting or tweeting while we’re eating dinner or spending quality time together (if it detracts from what we’re doing) either. There’s a time and place! I want my kids to live in the moment – not miss it all because they’re staring at someone else’s moment on the television or online. I want them to look back when they’re my age and remember a real childhood. I want them to grow up to treat their work colleagues, friends and romantic partners with the same respect. It starts at home is the saying, right? I don’t want simple social etiquette to fly out the window just because we’re living in an increasingly technological world.

“You want it? You earn it or you can wait until your birthday or Christmas!”
I remember when my brother and I were kids, there would always be a new games console on the market or some kind of toy/clothing/book that we wanted. OK, so books my parents were a bit more relaxed – educational and all that. Anyhow, we knew that if we wanted it we had to beg for it for Christmas or our next birthdays (whichever came first). We’d get impatient and probably annoy our parents every so often as we tried our luck at getting something earlier, but we knew what was expected. We had to negotiate with extra chores, save up our meagre pocket money allowance or even “get a loan” and then pay off what we received in advance with chores afterwards (and no more gifts until our debt was cleared). Now, I see the latest gadget and everyone’s uncool if they don’t have it RIGHT THEN AND THERE. Damn consumerist society. I don’t remember it being so bad 20 years ago. God, 20 years ago. Makes me sound like a bloody dinosaur.

All of this, while frustrating at the time, has made me a better person and as an adult I thank my parents for taking this unpopular approach. Yes, Mum and Dad. You were right. Yep. I said it. I now know how to be patient. I don’t believe I walk around this planet with an over the top sense of entitlement. I appreciate what I have and I don’t buy what I can’t afford. Take that, Generation Y haters!

I hope my kids will learn the same lessons. Either that or they’ll steal my credit card while I’m sleeping…

“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have a childhood.”
Look, I was the worst for this when I was a kid. I wanted to be a grown up, not having a clue that one day I would be a grown up and wish I was a kid again! I would watch M15+ movies at my friends’ houses (where my mum didn’t have her ever-watchful eye on me). I would stay up late with a childhood friend/partner in crime who will remain nameless so we could titter away at dodgy SBS channel movies on weekend sleepovers (I have some vague memory of some naked wood nymphs dancing in front of a bonfire under a full moon – on the television, not in real life). I wanted to wear make-up and act like a teen when I was really just a tween. I would swear a lot (as long as my parents or school teachers weren’t in ear shot). I would get all boy crazy and be deluded enough that I would be mature enough for a “relationship”…which luckily for my parents was never tested because I was always in the “friend zone”.

Basically, I know that a few misdemeanors will get past my vigilant parenting attempts, but when possible I won’t be letting my children watch adult television shows they shouldn’t be able to understand. I won’t be letting them dress like mini adults when they’re just kids. I will not expose them to my adult problems unless completely necessary and even then, age appropriate explanations will be given. I won’t be allowing them unlimited internet browsing time without permission or supervision. I will encourage them to focus on having fun and being as carefree as possible (while still fostering a sense of responsibility to themselves and others) while they still can. Kids just know too damn much these days. There are 8 year olds who want to dress like Kim Kardashian/Lady GaGa/Nicki Minaj/Snooki, sing along to sexually explicit songs while dancing in a way that would even get a grown up in trouble! I know I was kind of headed down that road (even though I had NO IDEA what “going down on someone in a theatre” meant when Alanis Morrisette warbled about it in the 90s), but if it wasn’t for my parents fiercely protecting my innocence and my right to enjoy a childhood, I don’t know that I would enjoy adulthood now half as much. I would have been jaded and washed out by the age of 15! Parents can’t control every influence their kids are exposed to, but they can be the main influence – that safe place to come back to for good guidance. I hope I can be that in this ever increasingly adultified world (yes I made a word up).

Um…also? We’ve all seen what can happen if we don’t…

Pic: I rest my case.

I will probably also spend all my time telling my offspring all about my youth, boring them senseless…

“Back in my day…”
We didn’t have Google! We had to go to the bookshelf and use an encylopaedia set to find out information for school assignments. I’ll explain what that is some other time.

We had to press a bunch of buttons on our mobile phones to call someone and text messaging was a newfangled concept which involved pressing numbers several times until we got to the letter we needed to use. We would then repeat this process until we had a whole word…and then another one…and so on. Texting could take hours.

Books were made out of paper.

Justin Bieber and One Direction (or whoever the new teen sensations will be) weren’t even born yet.

All the movies and television shows you enjoy were once actually other movies and television shows that have been remade. ALL OF THEM.

There were lots of children’s television characters that didn’t wear pants, hung about with small children and no-one cared.

There was this thing called MySpace…

So now that I’ve convinced you that I am in fact an 80 year old in a 28 year old’s body, I will leave you with that.

What’s your take on this?

Awesomely Unprepared

Tag Archives: who I really am