How many time a day do I feel the overwhelming desire to shout this to a number of people. It's unbelievable the stupidity that exists! Surely it is not just I who is confronted with such overwhelming feelings?
Everywhere, everyday, numerous people are walking around with their heads up their you-know-whats. The worst ones think they know everything and that their sh!t doesn't stick. Hel-lo, just where has your head been all day????
And as if its not bad enough that we (as in everyone on the planet) are in this mess because of these people. Because they enjoy the smell of their own sh!t so much that they cannot take a second or two to pull their head out and actually see what is going on around them!!
ARGH!! I fear that the human race is doomed...
Monday, May 25, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Gonna eat me a lot of peaches
Moving to the country first....
Sigh. How does one have these moments, exactly? All the boxes are ticked. Career going well. Check. Children happy. Check. Husband happy. Check. Nice home, holidays booked, great friends, check check check.
Where has this desire come from? Why is it here?? What is the meaning of all this???
No answers here. Just the persistant, strong desire to so do.
I figured it was the whole domestic goddess thing. Subconsciously I was seeking to appease the desires of my inner D-G and this was where the moving-to-the-country-thing was coming from. So I bought a sewing machine. With all good intentions of course (and hopefully my purchase will keep someone in their job for 30 seconds longer than they would have otherwise been, in the current economic climate), and of course never even having tried my hand at sewing. "This should be interesting", says Superhusband. "What are you actually intending to do with that?" Traitor. Certainly will not be sewing his button holes now, that is for sure! This thought was not expressed out loud at the time, mainly because I was so engrossed with how to thread the cotton and learning about bobbins, what they do, and finding out that there is an upper AND lower thread!
None of this has appeased my desire.
So...I then progressed to planning a vege patch. A proper one with more than one variety of vegetable (i.e., more than just shallots...). It will be grand. I will save money by purchasing less produce. Urge will subside. I will have a hobby that I can discuss with the SAHM's (of course, it is hoped a 'bonding' moment, or moments, will quickly follow), the children can learn about the garden, and once I figure it out, they can also learn about bobbins.
If none of this works, perhaps I will need to eat me a lot of peaches instead.
From a can no doubt, just as the 90's band 'Presidents of the United States of America' dictated all those years ago....
Sigh. How does one have these moments, exactly? All the boxes are ticked. Career going well. Check. Children happy. Check. Husband happy. Check. Nice home, holidays booked, great friends, check check check.
Where has this desire come from? Why is it here?? What is the meaning of all this???
No answers here. Just the persistant, strong desire to so do.
I figured it was the whole domestic goddess thing. Subconsciously I was seeking to appease the desires of my inner D-G and this was where the moving-to-the-country-thing was coming from. So I bought a sewing machine. With all good intentions of course (and hopefully my purchase will keep someone in their job for 30 seconds longer than they would have otherwise been, in the current economic climate), and of course never even having tried my hand at sewing. "This should be interesting", says Superhusband. "What are you actually intending to do with that?" Traitor. Certainly will not be sewing his button holes now, that is for sure! This thought was not expressed out loud at the time, mainly because I was so engrossed with how to thread the cotton and learning about bobbins, what they do, and finding out that there is an upper AND lower thread!
None of this has appeased my desire.
So...I then progressed to planning a vege patch. A proper one with more than one variety of vegetable (i.e., more than just shallots...). It will be grand. I will save money by purchasing less produce. Urge will subside. I will have a hobby that I can discuss with the SAHM's (of course, it is hoped a 'bonding' moment, or moments, will quickly follow), the children can learn about the garden, and once I figure it out, they can also learn about bobbins.
If none of this works, perhaps I will need to eat me a lot of peaches instead.
From a can no doubt, just as the 90's band 'Presidents of the United States of America' dictated all those years ago....
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Rise of the SAHM
It has been a while.
However, not EVERYONE is completely absorbed with the new trend and in fact many people may be busy with other things (like NOT losing one's job thanks to the recession!!).
Taglines have been bantied around for the past few months now. Domestic Goddess is my current favourite. And now we have the SAHMs (Stay At Home Mums). Sorry ladies with no kids (and stay at home Dads). You just Don't Cut It. You don't make the grade. Missed the boat. No Longer on the hip list...
The SAHMs...plenty of time to look their best, dote on their children (and husbands), join a hobby club, lunches and plan elaborate dinner dates held in their immaculately kept homes. Plenty of time to endlessly update their facebook status (he-llo how about just saying what it is you are really doing, i.e. that you are completely bored with no direction other than to the cupboard where the cleaning products are held). They claim better relationships with their children as a result of more time and a less stressful lifestyle. Husbands are happy (and so are the wives because if nothing else, there is a LOT more energy and time for snuggling between the sheets). The SAHMs claim that they are happy to be keeping their husbands happy. Sewing machine sales have soared. However, with all this to keep them busy, it seems there is plenty of time to build resentment against the working Mums (who neglect all these important matters of the home and heart).
The working Mums, on the other hand, are the ones you see hurrying everywhere - they are usually carrying several bags, children are all asking questions, everything is delegated at breakneck speed (Sam, stop doing that! Emily, wipe your face! James, do up your shoelaces and for god's sake yuck your shirt in for the third time!) and often misconstrued as being snappy, by the time they organise everyone else and themselves for work only the truly energetic have time for some good ole s-e-x (and not on housework night!). And they of course resent the SAHMs, who are often perceived as lazy and boring, judgmental bi-arches who sit on their katoucas's for the better part of each day and probably for too long in any event (and maybe because they just couldn't cope in the real world hence the 'choice' to stay at home?).
Jeez. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. So who is better off?
Unless forced to stay at home by way of losing your job, in the current climate and conditions it is difficult to see how families will survive if both parents are not working. On the other hand, one can see the argument in which choices can be made in which lifestyles are more sustainable (with less focus on 'things') and everyone is happier on a single income. There is more time to teach children how to cook, sew, grow vegies and the like - passing on skills that many 20 or 30 something year old women today do not have because their mothers and grandmothers were busy burning bras. They worked and fought hard to give young women today what we take for granted particularly in the employment and public arenas (and this is not to say that there is still not a way to go forward).
The fact that women are now sniping at each other in such concerning times is a scary thought indeed. We should be supporting one another and each other's choices. It is difficult to know why a woman chooses as she does on any given topic (just ask the Superhusbands/Superpartners).
However, not EVERYONE is completely absorbed with the new trend and in fact many people may be busy with other things (like NOT losing one's job thanks to the recession!!).
Taglines have been bantied around for the past few months now. Domestic Goddess is my current favourite. And now we have the SAHMs (Stay At Home Mums). Sorry ladies with no kids (and stay at home Dads). You just Don't Cut It. You don't make the grade. Missed the boat. No Longer on the hip list...
The SAHMs...plenty of time to look their best, dote on their children (and husbands), join a hobby club, lunches and plan elaborate dinner dates held in their immaculately kept homes. Plenty of time to endlessly update their facebook status (he-llo how about just saying what it is you are really doing, i.e. that you are completely bored with no direction other than to the cupboard where the cleaning products are held). They claim better relationships with their children as a result of more time and a less stressful lifestyle. Husbands are happy (and so are the wives because if nothing else, there is a LOT more energy and time for snuggling between the sheets). The SAHMs claim that they are happy to be keeping their husbands happy. Sewing machine sales have soared. However, with all this to keep them busy, it seems there is plenty of time to build resentment against the working Mums (who neglect all these important matters of the home and heart).
The working Mums, on the other hand, are the ones you see hurrying everywhere - they are usually carrying several bags, children are all asking questions, everything is delegated at breakneck speed (Sam, stop doing that! Emily, wipe your face! James, do up your shoelaces and for god's sake yuck your shirt in for the third time!) and often misconstrued as being snappy, by the time they organise everyone else and themselves for work only the truly energetic have time for some good ole s-e-x (and not on housework night!). And they of course resent the SAHMs, who are often perceived as lazy and boring, judgmental bi-arches who sit on their katoucas's for the better part of each day and probably for too long in any event (and maybe because they just couldn't cope in the real world hence the 'choice' to stay at home?).
Jeez. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. So who is better off?
Unless forced to stay at home by way of losing your job, in the current climate and conditions it is difficult to see how families will survive if both parents are not working. On the other hand, one can see the argument in which choices can be made in which lifestyles are more sustainable (with less focus on 'things') and everyone is happier on a single income. There is more time to teach children how to cook, sew, grow vegies and the like - passing on skills that many 20 or 30 something year old women today do not have because their mothers and grandmothers were busy burning bras. They worked and fought hard to give young women today what we take for granted particularly in the employment and public arenas (and this is not to say that there is still not a way to go forward).
The fact that women are now sniping at each other in such concerning times is a scary thought indeed. We should be supporting one another and each other's choices. It is difficult to know why a woman chooses as she does on any given topic (just ask the Superhusbands/Superpartners).
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Potato Salad War
Yes you read it right.
It was a potato salad war. Not for the faint hearted. Only the brave, daring, super-chic and savvy dare engage in the periodic Saturday afternoon past-time. Sometimes the object which has the unfortunate role of being at the centre of the war changes, so it becomes a 'lamb ragout', or 'creme caramel', or 'baked ricotta cheesecake', but the fact remains that such wars occur frighteningly often in the world of the Superwoman. And that is just on a Saturday - don't get me started on the working week wars....
Scene: Afternoon bar-be-que. friends en masse (some with child or children, some without, quite a seemingly voluminous number of them all at various ages and dressed in their finest, making faces at parents who continually scold 'don't get that dirty!' Or 'stay away from that dog bowl/garden mulch/bird bath/other-object-of-assumed-dirtiness!', all the while seeking out the funnest and quickest way to do exactly the opposite), neighbours of the host, bright and beautiful day, birds are chirping, all is wonderful with the world.
Behind the scene: women of all backgrounds vying for the 'best made (insert item-of-choice here, in this case, potato salad) of the day'. Usually determined (unwittingly) by the husbands and children who invariably comment on the item of the day , saying things like 'that is the best (insert name here) I have ever eaten!', between mouthfuls and beneath the strained glare of their wives/mothers whose own salad is ignored. Usually the winner has their item-of-choice all eaten first, and often with people complaining that they didn't get to try any - all extremely good for the ego particularly for those who need the boost!
So, this was the context that I found myself in last Saturday - with my potato salad, perfectly attired and polished appearance, children all appropriately dressed and lectured on displaying good manners, appropriate play behaviour, eating with mouths closed, and for God's sake do not play in the dog bowl/garden mulch/bird bath!, husband clutching his beer and scouting for the other husbands, all as perfect as a picture and just as a superwoman always appears.
I set down the bowl with the others. And in dismay I discover that I am not the only one who has thought of potato salad...what to do? Quickly the thought enters my mind to tamper with the others, perhaps add a 'dash' of extra salt? Some vinegar? as I scan the room looking for a WMD. None to be found. Time is running out! How could everyone bring potato salad? They all looked the same, except the different bowls (another competitive point, although the bowl is little noticed by anyone else other than the Superwomen). Someone was coming. "Hi! Lovely day isn't it?" I smile graciously to hide my fleeting, wicked, thoughts.
As we finish our meal and what was a great day spent catching up with friends and watching the children get inevitably dirty whilst they had fun playing, the superwomen organised themselevs to collect their bowls. Whether there had been any gratious comments whilst eating by the 'Judges Panel' I do not know; I paid little attention given the extensive 'sameness' of the competition. However, my bowl was empty.
"We had so much potato salad today" says Superfriend. "Yours must have been really good, everyone else had some left over! Thanks for bringing it!"
Triumph. Eyes gleaming with pride, I leave with Superchildren and Superhusband in tow. I have done Superwomen the world over proud.
I won the Potato Salad War with a store bought salad, placed in my (very chic, if I do say so myself) bowl and claimed as my own.
Cheater!!! I hear you claim in outrage....well, only because you didn't think of it first and are jealous - if you REALLY were a Superwoman, you would know that, as least for potato salad, buying a store one is the SMART thing to do (provided it is of the requisite standard, of course!).
We can't do absolutely everything....it's all about playing smart, not hard!
It was a potato salad war. Not for the faint hearted. Only the brave, daring, super-chic and savvy dare engage in the periodic Saturday afternoon past-time. Sometimes the object which has the unfortunate role of being at the centre of the war changes, so it becomes a 'lamb ragout', or 'creme caramel', or 'baked ricotta cheesecake', but the fact remains that such wars occur frighteningly often in the world of the Superwoman. And that is just on a Saturday - don't get me started on the working week wars....
Scene: Afternoon bar-be-que. friends en masse (some with child or children, some without, quite a seemingly voluminous number of them all at various ages and dressed in their finest, making faces at parents who continually scold 'don't get that dirty!' Or 'stay away from that dog bowl/garden mulch/bird bath/other-object-of-assumed-dirtiness!', all the while seeking out the funnest and quickest way to do exactly the opposite), neighbours of the host, bright and beautiful day, birds are chirping, all is wonderful with the world.
Behind the scene: women of all backgrounds vying for the 'best made (insert item-of-choice here, in this case, potato salad) of the day'. Usually determined (unwittingly) by the husbands and children who invariably comment on the item of the day , saying things like 'that is the best (insert name here) I have ever eaten!', between mouthfuls and beneath the strained glare of their wives/mothers whose own salad is ignored. Usually the winner has their item-of-choice all eaten first, and often with people complaining that they didn't get to try any - all extremely good for the ego particularly for those who need the boost!
So, this was the context that I found myself in last Saturday - with my potato salad, perfectly attired and polished appearance, children all appropriately dressed and lectured on displaying good manners, appropriate play behaviour, eating with mouths closed, and for God's sake do not play in the dog bowl/garden mulch/bird bath!, husband clutching his beer and scouting for the other husbands, all as perfect as a picture and just as a superwoman always appears.
I set down the bowl with the others. And in dismay I discover that I am not the only one who has thought of potato salad...what to do? Quickly the thought enters my mind to tamper with the others, perhaps add a 'dash' of extra salt? Some vinegar? as I scan the room looking for a WMD. None to be found. Time is running out! How could everyone bring potato salad? They all looked the same, except the different bowls (another competitive point, although the bowl is little noticed by anyone else other than the Superwomen). Someone was coming. "Hi! Lovely day isn't it?" I smile graciously to hide my fleeting, wicked, thoughts.
As we finish our meal and what was a great day spent catching up with friends and watching the children get inevitably dirty whilst they had fun playing, the superwomen organised themselevs to collect their bowls. Whether there had been any gratious comments whilst eating by the 'Judges Panel' I do not know; I paid little attention given the extensive 'sameness' of the competition. However, my bowl was empty.
"We had so much potato salad today" says Superfriend. "Yours must have been really good, everyone else had some left over! Thanks for bringing it!"
Triumph. Eyes gleaming with pride, I leave with Superchildren and Superhusband in tow. I have done Superwomen the world over proud.
I won the Potato Salad War with a store bought salad, placed in my (very chic, if I do say so myself) bowl and claimed as my own.
Cheater!!! I hear you claim in outrage....well, only because you didn't think of it first and are jealous - if you REALLY were a Superwoman, you would know that, as least for potato salad, buying a store one is the SMART thing to do (provided it is of the requisite standard, of course!).
We can't do absolutely everything....it's all about playing smart, not hard!
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