Welcome to Hitwave Alison, my Top 5 for the week.

1.  Bistro C on Hastings Street.  The 9year old chose it for his birthday breakfast, because “It’s the best restaurant in the world Mum.”  It’s also the best location, sitting right on Noosa Beach.  So close you almost have sand between your toes.  Fab food and Fab views.  And cheeky waiters apologising for the view.  This view:

The view from Bistro C… Hard to beat. The waiters are dickheads

2.  These shoes, from Country Road.  I just love a summery sandal.  Things are hotting up around these parts, but the legs aren’t ready to be out in public just yet, so these sandals are just the thing.

Don’t look at the legs

3.  The weather this week.  Soooo good here these last few days.  I feel so lucky to live in such an amazing place, with such perfect Spring days.  We even had dolphins hanging around Main Beach this morning.  (In the water- not sitting at Sails or something.)

4.  All the kids in Liam’s class singing Happy Birthday to him.  Still so cute.  And how they then descended on me and my Zooper Dooper supply in lieu of cupcakes  (I canNOT bake cupcakes). Luckily I had scissors to fend them off.

5.  My Mum for buying a big box of Cadbury Favourites for The Kid as part of The Festival of Liam.  I’ve been siphoning those babies off nightly.  He has no clue.  I love being the boss of the house.  I don’t care if you think I’m a bogan Hayley, I bloody love ’em.

Have a great weekend y’all

What’s your Top 5?

*Not a sponsored post, but feel free to hit me up marketing peeps.

We were given tix to see the newest Pixar movie last night;  Cars Planes.  (Thanks Olivia!)

This is not a rave review.  Basically, Planes is the movie Cars, but planes.  I don’t think it is a spoiler to say: young upstart, cranky old guy who comes good, win-at-all-costs baddie, treacherous female, supportive friends and a Never Give Up attitude at altitude.  With a twist at the end.*

The worst news: it was in 3D.  I bloody hate 3D.  I hate the second hand glasses that don’t fit on my pin-head, I hate the vertiginous feeling as things come flying out at you, for no apparent reason.  3D is so distracting.  And really adds nothing to the movie.

But I do love Pixar.  They make beautiful pictures with gorgeous colour.  There were a couple of scenes that I’d love to see at home on my awesome telly (Thanks Darren), without the stupid 3D-iness.  And without any kids in the cinema.  The kid who was kicking my seat through THE WHOLE BLOODY MOVIE will not be invited.

But this post is not about that, it’s about this: our kids bloody loved it.  Whilst I was yawning and trying to stay awake, they were lapping it up.  Liam said on the way out that his “heart was racing through the whole thing, was your’s racing too Mum?”  Apparently it was exciting.  He was quoting lines, and having discussions about what type of planes certain fighter jets were, and then giving reasons why “they weren’t F-18s due to bomb positions , but they may have been Tomcats or Eagles” or some shit.

As they talked about how thrilling the movie was and which character they wanted to be, I started to like the movie. And when I heard how great Dusty was, and how they wished they could fly like that, I liked it a little bit more.  And by the time they were describing how good it was that all Dusty’s friends helped him and how he just kept on trying, I just loved that movie too.

Kids eh?  They might teach us a thing or two, but they sure do screw with our taste.

*There was no twist.  That was a trick.

What’s your fave kids movie?

Do you like 3D?

I have a kid, who, by her own admission is the “third smartest” in her class.  She knows this because, “In our class, the first smartest is Shaylah, and the second smartest is Stella.  Then there’s a few other kids, then me.  Third.”

So yeah, she’s nailed that one…

This third-smartest kid has had a big week.

She has an unusual type of anaemia which results in her needing blood transfusions every couple of months or so, and at the moment we are getting close to transfusion time.  So it means that her haemoglobin is somewhere around the point where most adults wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed.

And still she goes on.

You may have heard me whining about the fact that we lost her iPad back here. She had an iPad, not to play Minecraft on (Although you may be forgiven for thinking this was its sole function), but to complete her writing tasks at school, because when you’re knackered, sometimes even pushing the pencil along the little blue lines is a bit too much.

This week she got the ‘Class Member of the Week’ award at school.  Without the iPad (that is presumably still in the loving care of its new owners), and with a good old fashioned pencil and notebook, she wrote “my longest story ever, even longer than my other longest one ever.”

So I guess it was long.

Her award said this:

“Never give up.”

And she doesn’t.  Whilst all the other children her age have long mastered the monkey bars and have moved on to other things, bigger challenges, things higher and faster and more complicated, she goes out every lunchtime, swings, grabs, and gets to the first rung.  And falls.  Then tries again.  And falls.  She has blisters all over her tiny little hands, and bruises all over her knees.  And still she goes on.

Until this week, when she made it all the way.  Just once.  And she was so proud.  I wish you could’ve seen her beam.

You CAN see the blisters

I’m thinking maybe we can all learn something from this third-smartest kid.  Sometimes you don’t have to be the cleverest or the fastest or the most capable.  Sometimes, even though you may be the least-smartest, or the smallest, or the most tired, or the one that things just seem harder for, you can achieve greatness.  If you never give up.

How about you?  Do you give up?

What cool things did your kids achieve this week?

Some of you might be wondering why have started this blog thing.  Some of you who know me, probably think I have enough going on, what with a couple of kids, husband, busy practice, incomplete BAS, cat with disheveled fur, etcetera.

Well, it’s because of The Menopause.

The Menopause started a few moons ago now, and as some of you well know (I’m looking at you, husband) it has made me the tiniest bit grumpy.  Not all the time, mind.  Just every day.  And night.  And some early afternoons.

Now I can predict what you are all about to say, “You can’t have The Menopause, you’re too young.”   And yes, I know my youthful complexion belies my years, but it is true.  I am newly barren, which means I can now say whatever I damn well like, and do whatever I damn well please.  Further, if you are about to tell me that I don’t technically have The Menopause, due to various silly little details, like actual diagnosis, you may potentially be correct, however those pesky specifics aren’t really of interest to me.  Mainly, because, I have The Menopause.  Which means I’m the boss.  (Plus, Peri-menopause just sounds a bit shit. I won’t have it.)

If you’ve been following along, you’ll know by now I do like a list, so, in the interests of community service, I have complied one, regarding The Menopause.  It will be of use to all you fecund little fertility goddesses, so you will know how to behave, when Aunty Flo no longer comes to visit.  It will also be a point of reference for all you men who are being paused, or will be paused, once the situation arises.  Forewarned is forearmed, and all that.

It is entitled “Things to do when you have The Menopause” and here it is:

• Have opinions on everything.  It is particularly good if they are unpopular opinions.  Blog about them.
• Wear the jeans you want, even if they are too tight, or have gone out of fashion (I’m looking at you CR Jeggings).
• Sing as loud as you like, even if the songs have rude words in them.  In fact, preferably.
• Buy neon pink Converse runners.  Wear them, even if your 6 year old is also wearing hers.
• Talk about taboo topics without getting embarrassed, again, loudly (and in public spaces).
• Forget many things, but especially inconvenient details (otherwise known as facts to the pedantic).
• Repeat your funny stories, even if your friend says “You’ve told me that one already”. Then repeat again.
• Go out to lunch and drink wine, often.  Ensure it is expensive wine.
• Play on the swings, and don’t get off when children want a turn.  They’ll get their chance.
• Break petty rules, especially if they are to do with parking, and particularly if you can get away with it.
• Be flabbergasted at the very age of health professionals.
• Use the word flabbergasted.  Also: cross, crook, tetchy and peeved.  They describe, umm, everyone else.

So there it is, breeders.  You’re welcome.

Cheers.

Fairly expensive wine.
(The others don’t have The Menopause yet)

Which one will you cross off your list today?

Is your health professional really young, like ‘The Bachelor‘, young?

A lady I much admire for her ability to tell it like it is, Mrs.Woog once wrote a post about her “diamond shoes being too tight”.  Oh how I laughed at the time.  So funny, Mrs.Woog, so funny.

Well, it pains me to tell you, that today, not only are my diamond shoes too tight, they seem to have given me a small blister.  In the following, I shall outline to you all of the things that have caused this calamity.

1. I was woken this morning* at 4.15am by a child who was wide awake, and would not go back to sleep.  No bribe, threat or IOS device would shut her the hell up calm her.
2. I made myself a delicious drinkable coffee from my Nespresso machine.  I spilled most of said coffee.
3. I then made myself some yummy eggs, free range, and given to me for free.  One was rotten.  Really rotten.  I was faced with a tri-lemma: eat rotten egg, have only one egg, make another egg.
4. I went to get dressed and found that my maid husband had ironed everything.  Except the top I wanted to wear.
5. It rained a little bit on my newly washed, new car (aka Miss Xtrailia 2013) on the way to school dump drop off.
6. I had a patient forget his last appointment, and he promised me a Lamborghini as recompense.  This is the Lamborghini I received.

This simply won’t do

All this, and it’s only midday.

So I shall leave off now, lest I tempt fate and create space for more evils to befall me.

As reward for the horrors I have survived this day, I will be eating the pictured cupcake, stolen acquired from The Son’s birthday cache. I’m wearing a white top (un-ironed).  What could possibly go wrong?

*4.15am is NOT morning.  It is dark.  This means it is night.  The end.

Do you too have a blister from your diamond shoes?  C’mon, share!

Sunday the 15th of September would be the 40th Birthday of my friend Ricki.

She died at the end of 2006 from breast cancer, which by then had ravaged her body.  She was an amazing chick, and she amazed me, right ’til the end.  She had a loving husband Greg, and two gorgeous, kids, who are still the strongest, coolest, most lovely children around.  The following is a little something I wrote, about a week after she died.

Painting by Ricki

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower,

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief.

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

-Robert Frost

I first met Rick when she bounced into work looking for a job.  She was all froth and bubble, and filled a room completely.  I had my reservations, but our manager had the foresight to let her join the team, and so our learning began.  Over time, I found that Ricki was an artist, and lived that way, so rules were less important to her than connection, or passion.  Or beauty.  Or the search for truth.

Later, observing Rick and her sister Hayley working together to open a cafe, I saw another side to her: her organisation, her creativity and her ability to stay on purpose.  I also saw how that big hearted, big sister just gave and gave unconditionally.

Of course she was always giving.  Little gifts for me every Monday night when I’d visit her at her home, when she was too fragile to come into the office for her care; home cooked food, or a present for Liam.  And even more valuable, were the gifts she gave of herself, always in that courageous way she had, without fear or reservation.

In writing about death, Stephen King once said there’s a lot we aren’t told about death.  Of how it is secret, how difficult the letting go part is, because none of us would ever want to get close to another if we knew we’d feel like this, for even a second.  But I think Ricki would.  She’d risk it.  Because she was so brave.

Someone once said that “books read us”, that we see things not as they are, but as we are, and maybe it’s the same for people.  At least I hope so.   For if each of us has even a little of what we loved and admired about Ricki within us, then we are truly blessed.

Monday just gone, Greg said to me that “Rick always felt better when you’d been around”, and I felt honoured to think, that especially in those last few weeks, I have been able to help her a little, because I know I always felt better.  Like somehow just being in Rick’s glow made me a better person, or a least want to be better.  Somehow stronger, or closer to my truth.

This week her kids and I had a play in the house that is somehow still so full of Rick, (she still fills a room), and I had a fun time learning from those amazing two.  The Boy was the ever practical one, wanting to take down Ricki’s Christmas stocking because “She’s not going to be here for Christmas you know”, and The Girl shared with me how, if you go and put your whole face in Ricki’s clothes, you can still smell her.

And so it is for all of us.  We all carry things within us that remind us of Rick.  It might be a smell, or the taste of good chocolate, or a snippet of a song we know she loved, or the emotion from a great piece of art, or a big irreverent belly laugh, or just a bloody-minded stubborn desire to face challenges head on.

We carry these memories within us, because Rick was a chick who made markings on people’s souls.

So nothing gold can stay?  Maybe not physically, but with the brush strokes she left on our hearts, Ricki our artist, will always stay.  Golden.

Still miss ya Ricki.  Happy 40th.  

RIP.