Life's little secrets.

To the left is a picture of my poor parched front yard. In more normal times it has flowers and colour, but now that we're only allowed to water two mornings a week, I've elected to mainly water the vegie patch and to make the front yard an example of Darwinian struggle.

But there's a reason why I love having my own place in this picture. It's not huge or profound, but it's a little secret surprise that pops up every year from the original garden that was here long before I moved in with my newfangled ideas about wide, sweeping garden beds. If you look closely you can just see it.... It's hard to do from this angle (from the driveway). From my bedroom window it's framed beautifully, just for me.

One lone gladdie. Very Dame Edna, I know, but it's a splat of colour in an otherwise silver-green world.

And my window is the only one that sees it.

I love how life has little rewards like this. It makes it worthwhile paying the mortgage!

In other news, I finally found out who started Shoestring Sunday. Those of you who have been reading for a while will know that I sometimes do Skinflint Sunday, which was an idea (ramped up a bit) taken from a blog. Someone else's blog. I read the Shoestring Sunday thing, thought "What a good idea" and moved on. But the idea stayed with me. (But I had to call it Skinflint on my blog. Shoestring is too polite a term for my frugality kick.) But I committed the cardinal sin of forgetting who had the brilliant idea to start with. Well tonight the lovely Lis left a comment letting me know that it was she who has shoestring tendencies. I'm so glad to be able to give credit where it's due. (Lord knows it's too good an idea for me to come up with on my own.)

Just when you think you're settled....

Well, things at work are certainly happening!

The list for the extra jobs that teachers have to do came out yesterday. I am now running the ESL faculty. It's not a large faculty, but it is certainly looking a bit shabby around the edges, so I (reluctantly) put up my hand for it. The downside is that I have to kiss the student manager job goodbye.

Annoying in one way, because I've been doing it for 18 months and I feel like I've just got a handle on it all, but in other ways it'll be good. I don't have to be at work at 8am and leave at 5pm, reports are FAR easier when I just have to write my own and not also collate and write comments on the front of the whole year level (do you realise how time consuming that is???) and I no longer will have to deal with parents. Most are nice, but occasionally there's the odd one who can be a bit of a fruitcake. (And I don't eat fruitcake. It's yuck.... the devil's food. Like bananas.)

The best reason, though, is the house and kids. They've been running on autopilot for a year and a half, and they're looking shabby around the edges too. Well, the house is. So next year it'll all run on an even keel again, which will be a good thing. I find that if things get cluttered and too dust-bunnyish at home then I feel like I'm not coping and I get snappy at them. It'll be nice to get back to creating the kind of home environment that the kids and I will look forward to coming home to. (I'm coming over all nesty. Don't be concerned. There's no possible way I could be pregnant. The speying and the 18 month (so far) break from dating make sure of that!!)

The funny thing will be watching how the two people who will be doing the job next year will share the office space. The woman who is taking over from me is incredible efficient and anal. Everything is lined up, colour coded, filed to within an inch of its life and regimented. The guy who shares the job makes the office look like a tip. His desk is a glorified pile of paper and there's absolutely no space for him to sit and work at it. As days go by a wave of paper comes from it and advances towards the desk where she'll be working. It really started to do my head in, so every time he was out of the office for the day I'd do an emergency paper throw. I'd put important things in a box by his desk, and the rest I'd chuck. I used to find stuff dating back to 1995. I'm not exaggerating. It might be entertaining to step back and watch the fireworks. The mess drove me crazy, but I'm not as neat or as ...um.... up-front about things that bother me as she is.

Scott and I have come to a civilised agreement about the NaNoWriMo challenge. We're not doing it. Technically I beat him, because I reached 20,000 words, (yay!) but I've reached the conclusion that with these interviews happening in year 10 at the same time, I will definitely not finish my novel in a month. So we agreed to be merciful to each other and desist. (I've just realised.... maybe next year I could do it. Unless I decide to mark VCE exam papers to get some $$$. All may not be lost....)

Today will be a teaching Brennan to knit day, a tutor Jack in Romeo and Juliet day and a BARF day. I have to make biscuits and cakes, and sometime this weekend I want to go out to Diacos nurseries in Dingley and get some tomato plant cages. The stakes I bought last year didn't work so well. (Got to stop those damned tomato plants from roaming all over the backyard!!) I've got Brennan in my ear asking about when I'm going to make pancakes for breakfast, so I'd better get off here and start the day. Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.

I was going to live forever...

I went on a site this morning and did a life expectancy test. My ambition/goal has always been to live to 120 with all my brains (such as they are) and body intact.
Imagine my distress when it said I was only going to live to 89.
http://livingto100.com/
What a gyp! In the title it already promises me 100 years. What's going on?

Apparently exercise is fairly important, and I don't do any. That may be why Molly's rump is looking a bit matronly. (I'm too scared to look at mine now, after doing this test. But hey! I'm sure it's delightful.....)

I drink a glass of wine too many on some nights. I already knew that, so I'll cop that one on the chin.

But coffee. Coffee. I have 3 cups in the morning before work, 1 when I get there and then that's it. Except sometimes I have one at recess if I want to. I'll cut that one out. Then I drink water for the rest of the day. I used to drink about 12 cups of coffee a day when I was at home with little kids. (I was jazzed, baby!) Do I get credit for cutting down? Oh I don't think so. I get the cyber finger waved at me and get told the benefits of switching to green tea. Now I don't mind the odd cup of green tea. I prefer it to normal tea. But I don't think that waking up to the insipid aroma of a cup of tea is going to feel anywhere near as good as smelling the full blooded richness of that first cup of coffee in the morning. Or second. And I'm only drinking instant coffee. I'd probably be even more outraged at the prospect if I was a coffee bean pers

I'm back. There's something screwy going on here. I think that the computer doctor guy has installed something on my computer to make me smarten myself up. I just spilled my second cup of coffee all over the table next to the computer. I'm not making this up. There was coffee under the modem, all around the phone and dripping down the back among the power cords. I've got towels everywhere, mopping it up. I have my coffee black, no sugar, and it's making the towels a yucky smelling brown colour. How come it smells so lovely when you're about to drink it, and so horrible when you're frantically trying to mop it up before you electrocute yourself?

Should I be freaked out? Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something. Maybe I shouldn't have bought the coasters from Phuket that have a lip on them. (That's what caused it. I put the cup down on it without making sure that it was centred.) Or maybe that doctor guy who is at the top of each page of the test isn't just a simple picture. Maybe he was looking at me, watching me slurp down my morning cuppa with evident enjoyment and decided to make an example of me. I didn't think to check to see if his eyes moved when I did....

I'm still not giving up coffee. The cup's empty now, so what else can he do? Except give me a heart attack or something, but I'm prepared to risk that......

He should cut me some slack. I don't do drugs, eat (much) crappy food or have risky sex. (Who knew being celibate was good for me? I guess millions of nuns and priests over the centuries were on to a good thing after all. Who knew? This break from dating could add YEARS to my life.)

Take the test. I dare you. It's actually pretty detailed and it's got a lot of good stuff in it. It doesn't take long to do. Take the test, pop back and we'll compare ages that we're going to cark it. It'll be fun. Maybe we could start planning our funerals. The kids have already told me that if I get run over by a bus or something they're going to have the theme music from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' playing as my coffin glides out of sight towards the crematorium fires. I thought that was a brilliant idea. Go on! Do it! Just make sure you remove your drug of choice from where the computer is before you start.

Whinge, and Super hero stuff.

I'm tired. No, scratch that. I'm exhausted. I think I need a man.

No, not for that! Get your minds out of the gutter. (Though, now I come to think about it... it's been a long time .....)

It is an impossibility for one woman to maintain a house, full time job, car, lawn, whipper snipper, garden, veggie patch, kids' extra-curricular activities, novel, afghan and also attend to various motherly/daughterly/friendy/pet-ownery/'selfish' creative-y things and do them all well. As a Virgo this seriously messes with my mind.

I love my job. Seriously love it. Plus it pays the bills, which is very considerate of it. The downside to working full time is that it only gives you the weekend with any serious chunks of time to do everything that needs to be done. I realise that this is BIG NEWS to anyone reading this, because naturally no-one else has to juggle anything.

But it's weekends like this that make me wish that I had another able-bodied adult around. (Not enough to do anything concrete about it, but those of you reading this that know about my massive tally of internet dates will understand. I'm still on a break.)

This weekend I had to do all the housework, mow the lawns, do the edges, harvest the spinach before it went to seed, novelise, knit, bake cakes and biscuits for the kids for next week, go to the butchers and buy cat meat and make the patties for them (I feed my pets the BARF diet... great for them but a shitload of work for me), do all of the laundry/bedding washing/hanging/folding, take Jordan to a sleepover, come home and welcome one of Brennan's mates for a sleepover here, go to Mum's for a birthday party, take possession of Murphy while Mum and Dad go away for a month, finish off my year 11 correction, anything else I've forgotten to list ... etc.

I did some of the edging, until the f%ck*&g whipper snipper ran out of line. I have plenty. Unfortunately the kids cleaned the garage a few weeks ago and now no-one knows where it is. I didn't mow the lawns. Around the sideway the weeds are as big as triffids. I was wondering where all of the dandelions in the veggie patch were coming from. Now I know.

I made 6 cakes. Four are still around to be frozen and used for after school fodder for the hordes. No biscuits.
I knitted yesterday. Star Wars 2 was on tv, so I had a chuckle and a knit. Good times.
Cat food got made. Only because they would've starved next week if I didn't.
Washing got done. It's still on the line at 6.30pm. The kids don't know it yet, but they're about to be my laundry boys when I get off here. They can do the folding too.
Correction? No way.
Novel? You jest.
I harvested the spinach though. To look at it growing, you'd swear there was enough to feed an army. But once I'd cut, washed, blanched, chopped, weighed and bagged the leaves, I only had four 250g bags. For three hours work (plus a possible sunburned scone) (that means scalp for those who aren't Australian) I wasn't happy. Then I looked at the stalks. Green, fibrey and organic. I bet Ma Ingalls, who you all know by now is my personal hero, wouldn't have wasted them. So I chopped, blanched, bagged and froze them too. Four more bags. I've doubled my yield! Good on me.

I haven't stopped all weekend. No housework, no correction, no nothing. How long is it till the summer break?

But I have to tell you something funny that happened yesterday. Brennan's mate Marcus came over, and they went to 7-11 for a slurpie. They were gone for quite a while, and when they came back they said that a couple of teenagers had thrown waterbombs at them, disappeared, and then five minutes later came back riding bikes and chased them all the way to the oval near 7-11. The kids hid near the cricket players until the coast was clear, got their slurpies, and then came back home via a massively roundabout route so they'd avoid the little shits on the way back. They were terrified.

I listened, asked if they knew where they lived, and when they said yes ( Brennan said they were the same kids who tried to drag Jordan off his bike a year ago) I said, "Get in the car."

We drove around. The kids were in the back seat, and I heard Brennan say to Marcus, "We don't normally do this on a Saturday. This isn't a normal day!"

The kids stayed in the car while I knocked on the front door. I wondered if the door was going to open and I'd be confronted by familiar faces from the school I teach at. I wondered if I was going to get the crap beaten out of me. As I was standing there, a car pulled into the driveway and there were Mum and the two boys. Bingo!

For those of you who aren't teachers, I'll let you in on a little secret. Come closer, because I'm going to whisper this. We don't mind telling off other people's kids. We do it every day. We're professional at it. We do it every day, sometimes for entertainment. It was beautiful.

I smiled at the Mum, but spoke directly to the kids. Asked them if they'd been home in the last half to three quarters of an hour. I'll say it again. It was beautiful. Their Mum was there, so they couldn't lie. You should've seen Mum turn purple when I said they'd chased primary aged kids all the way to the oval.

"How old are they?" she asked. It made me wish (briefly) that Brennan was still in prep.

"They're grade sixers", I said, but then to make up ground, I hastily added in a grave tone, "They were very frightened. You boys are so much bigger."

"We were just having fun. We didn't know they were scared," said one foolish boy. He didn't know he was dealing with a fully trained Drama teacher.

"You didn't know they were scared???? Were they running away and laughing? I don't think so." Mum turned even more purple, and glared at them. Any more purple, and she'd be needing those heart starter paddles.

Then I decided to gamble and said, "My kids say that you're the kids that tried to drag my older son off his bike last year."

They turned pale. "No no, that wasn't us!!"

I wasn't prepared to fight that battle, so I took the high moral/teacherly/motherly ground. I practically waved a finger at them.

"See what happens when you do something wrong? You start to get blamed for things you haven't done." Their Mum nodded.

"Do you go to (bleep)?" I asked. (Bleep being where I teach.) They shook their slimy little heads.

I looked at Mum and laughed. "Probably just as well. They wouldn't want to have me as a teacher after this!"

To their credit, they volunteered to go and apologise. They went up to the kids. I followed closely behind, just in case they were going to threaten them with death or worse. But all was well. They apologised, the boys said "That's ok", their Mum said to me, "Little idiots", and we left.

I'm now officially awesome Mum. I'm reasonably happy with that.

IMPORTANT QUESTION:
Does anyone know if we can post an audio thingy from Limewire on our blogs? Jordan played us the funniest thing I've heard in a month of Sundays, and I'd love to post it. However, he seems to think the police will send me to jail. Is this true? Please let me know one way or another....

My perspective on a sustainable,balanced life.

I'm trying to get started with this, but I've got a very interested 11 year old bobbing around behind me, looking over my shoulder and telling me what to write. It's very distracting. (And no, Connor. I'm NOT going to write 'me as a happy mum.' !)

I've been reading other blogs over the last few days, and it's been very inspiring. Women are really making a difference, in their own small ways, and it's been fascinating to read of the things people are doing to simplify the lives of their families. The handcrafts, cooking and gardening are amazing to see, and (now he's doing the Oompa Loompa song beside me. He's not helping!!!) it's a truly humbling thing to see women from all over the world quietly going about the day to day business of nurturing the people who are important to us. I guess it's what we've always done, but it's nice to see proof that we're not alone....

However, one thing I've noticed, and that most of the blogs I've read have been written by people who are either retired or are SAHMs. I suppose this makes sense in one respect... you are the the ones with a tad more disposable time. But what about people like me?

I work full time, I have no partner, and I want to provide the fullest, healthiest and happiest life I can for my family. (Without turning them into spoiled brats.) I want my kids to enjoy their childhood, but I certainly want the rest of us to enjoy it too, if you know what I mean! I am fortunate enough to have earned my degree , so I have a reasonable wage to support us, but it isn't enough to provide everything. Again, I'm sure you know what I mean!

I feel like I've got a foot in both camps. I'm moving towards simpler living, but I'm not going to go overboard about it. There's got to be a balance of quality of life, time and money.

I work, and I love it. I wouldn't give up my career (such as it is!) for anything. The kids I teach are funny, smart people... and gee they make me laugh! Every day is different, and my work in the classroom is entertaining and fulfilling. We learn a bit, we have a laugh, and it's all good. The people I work with are (generally) great, and I've made some close friends from here. I feel very lucky I fell into this profession because given the size of my mortgage, I'll probably be working at the school till I'm 92. (I'm 44 now.)

But...

I love pottering around at home on the weekends and the holidays..... I do all of our baking and I love that the kids have my biscuits in their lunch boxes, and they come home and demolish a quarter of a home-made cake each after school. We have take-away maybe once a month if I'm really tired, and I'm making more and more things from scratch and eliminating powdered packaged chemically garbage from our diet. I've never been a 'foodie', but over the past year or so I've broadened my horizons. (And dragged the kids along with me.)

We started a vegie garden last year, and my enthusiasm for it has only grown. My oldest son was sure I'd get sick of it, so it's nice to prove him wrong!! I enjoy planting new things and trialling how they go, havesting produce and eating it (anyone want some silverbeet???) and feeling good about feeding the kids organic food.

But...

forget about buying organic produce... who can afford to feed a family organically??? We'd go broke! My challenge is to conserve our finances to be able to spend $$ on the things that are important to us.

So, I find it interesting that in my quest to be frugal, I'm quietly picking up many environmentally responsible habits. Who would've guessed that being 'tight' would be helping the earth? I'm happy that I'm doing lots of little things to improve the quality of our little corner of the world, but the bottom line is that I won't do 'environmentally' things just for the sake of it. I can't afford to throw the balance of quality of life, finances and time out of whack.

Does this make me shallow? Or merely practical?

Anyway, this blog is written from the perspective of a suburban girl juggling a fair few plates, racing from one thing to another and trying to do her best in everything she does.

Sounds like every other woman out there, doesn't it?