Work is the easier route...

I wish I was at work today. It's less tiring.

First of the bat, I want to firmly say I love our daughter. I couldn't imagine a life without her in it; a future that doesn't involve her. Even in her most feral moments (and boy have there been alot of those lately), I wouldn't swap our life for that three or four years ago when Maddy wasn't in our world.

But today, we're home sick together. Daycare mentioned she was running a bit of a fever late in the afternoon and had slept through lunch. Anybody that knows Miss M would be aware that NO lunch for her is like Satan skating on ice. It NEVER happens...you see, Miss M loves food and only on a very sick little Miss M would ever fathom sleeping instead of having lunch. Worse yet, lunch yesterday at daycare was spaghetti. Close to being her most absolute favourite type of meal.

Anyway, we both have been fighting off flus. The weather down here takes a bit of adjusting to, and right now Miss M and I have coughs that sound like seals dying. A nasty headache caused by the most evil of all motor policies which I have been attempting to handle in the past three days; descended upon me late yesterday afternoon. Cramps I can handle with a few Nurofen, flus I can sniffle through, but headaches are my major downfall. Quite simply I felt like crawling into a hole and sleepng for a week.

After a fairly sleepless night we woke up at our usual dark hour (5:30am) and I knew neither Miss M nor I should be going to work/daycare today. So at 5:55am I realised I didn't have any contact numbers and sent an email to one of my workmates to let her know I wouldn't be able to make it in. Computer genius husband left for work and Miss M and I snuggled in for some rest.

Yeah right...

The past 5 hours since hubby left for the quiet and sanity of work, Miss M has trashed the house, her Dora DVDs and is presently reading in bed when she's supposed to be having a nap.

I'm jealous of said husband. I WISH I was at work right now...my tired and sick body would be more suited to sitting in front of a computer screen and solving the insurance problems of the world. And now I can hear 'Mummy... Mummmmmy... MUMMMMYYYY' coming through the door of Miss M's room.

Sick day...what sick day?

The technologically savvy

Ok, so as a child of the 70's and school student of the 80's and 90's (not to mention from a family on a tight income with 5 kids!), my exposure to items such as desktop computers, walkmans and Nintendos was pretty close to zero. In fact, short of a few stints on the primary school communal Apple Mac to play 'Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?', I only truly touched a computer when I reached high school and it was an actual subject.

That said, I was the 'go to' girl in the family whenever it came to the programming of any form of electrical based item. VCR recorder, TV, clock radio, microwave...you name it, someone had to ask me how to work it.

Now it came to my attention the other day that I have regressed when it comes to being techophile. I now struggle with programming the stupid microwave to defrost rather than scorch and pre-cook whatever I've forgotten to take out of the freezer earlier in the day for dinner. Whereas I used to be able to program in multiple shows to be recorded at a later date on the VCR, I now just give the husband a trembling bottom lip and hand over the laptop whenever it goes on the bunk for me.

Is it because I really am losing the ability to follow instructions & puzzle something out; or are items these days becoming much less user friendly? (Please remind me at a later date to fill you in on one of our life-long aims.... to track down the freak who designed the 'allen-key') Is it possible to unintentionally morph from being a technophile to a technophobe?

But I fear not...my 2 1/2 year old daughter appears to have inherited her Daddy's aptitude towards all things with an 'off' and 'on' button. Whilst I struggled to work out how to the heck to recharge the silly portable DVD player, Miss M has it sussed...



Fear not Mummy, I'll torture you with some 'Dora the Explorer' in no time...



See Mum? Piece of cake!

Nothing original

Wow, I'm sitting here struggling to come up with something to write about. Anyone would think I lead a completely boring life.... *L* Anyway, the pressure is on...I happen to be writing in the dust of two family members who manage to update their blogs on a daily basis with entertaining and amusing anecdotes from their lives.

Someone on a message board got me thinking yesterday. They'd started a thread on what our favourite memories from school were. When I sat down and started to think, two thoughts came immediately to mind. The first was pure horror. I actually sat down and calculated how long it's been since I finished wearing my tartan high school uniform. WAY too long. My second thought was to begin to laugh as some of my favourite memories came flooding back.

I know people always tell you never to look back, but I can't help but think that sometimes it's ok to do that. It makes you appreciate what you had and how much the choices you made back then have led you to where you are now. Little did I know back then, that the plain-jane rule abiding school girl who had dreams of becoming a primary school teacher would learn that she'd rather just let other people keep their own children and would be working in INSURANCE.

Actually, if you'd informed me back then that I'd be working in insurance I would have had you in a straight-jacket and ambulanced off to 'Crazy Sister's' "rehab" before you could blink. And I ask you, who actually comes out of high school saying 'yep, that's for me - I'm going to work in Insurance!'????

The reasoning behind the title...

I can't handle 'snot'...(otherwise known as "boogers").


Yes, that's right; I'm a freak! I have a 2.5 year old munchkin and I can handle pretty much anything she produces for me but I just can't handle snot. Especially when it involves those little aspirator type objects designed to extract it all - google 'fess little noses' and you'll understand the type of product I'm refering to.

Even the word makes my stomach turn.

Blood, vomit, poo...no problems. Not the highlight of anyone's day but if it has to be taken care of, I'll do it. I do however, draw the invisible line in the sand at the wonderful products of the nose. It doesn't matter the colour, but if I see it I just want to run screaming away. This includes the welcome you receive from the kids at daycare when you're picking up your daughter. It takes all my strength not to keep several metres (and preferably a few tables) between myself and any snot-monster in the room.

For the past 2 and a bit years I truly did just think I was some freak of nature. The laughs of my ever loving and understanding husband certainly didn't do anything to dispell that thought. It wasn't until today when I was having a chat with my team leader at work that I discovered I am not alone. Some not-so-considerated work colleague was talking about the nasty 's' word and she was fair gagging on the spot in response. Mercy, I wanted to cry tears of joy.

Now that I've explained, please excuse me whilst I go empty my stomach. *L*

Founding member of 'SAA' (Snot-Aversion-Anonymous)