What makes you happy?

It’s Easter Sunday and after a wonderful morning with too much excitement and WAY too much chocolate, I sat down on the computer to catch up on my gossip. And then…

Occasionally you read something that really resonates and leaves you thinking long after you’ve finished. A friend put a link on Facebook to an article called ’15 things You Should Give Up To Be Happy’.

Wow.

In a nutshell, the article says we often cling to things that cause us pain, or aren’t in our best interests, and if we let them go, a happier future awaits. Simple concept…infinitely more difficult to execute, right?

Whilst I probably knew most of these things on some kind of subconscious level, seeing it all listed really hit home. Over the last couple of years I’ve experienced some difficult life events, and learned that I didn’t really know myself as well as I thought. Without sounding too navel-gazing New Age-y, this has led to a bit of soul searching and a revelation or two along the way. I’m proud to have figured out a few things on the list below:

1.       Give up your need to always be right

2.       Give up your need for control

3.       Give up on blame

4.       Give up your self-defeating talk

5.       Give up your limiting beliefs

6.       Give up complaining

7.       Give up the luxury of criticism

8.       Give up your need to impress others

9.       Give up your resistance to change

10.   Give up labels

11.   Give up on your fears

12.   Give up your excuses

13.   Give up the past

14.   Give up attachment

15.   Give up living your life to other people’s expectations

For most of my life I felt completely constrained by a ridiculous need to make others like me and to be the best (No. 8) and no matter how hard I tried, in my mind I always fell short. Maybe it’s age or just some kind of epiphany, but I’ve gotten pretty good at giving up this one lately. And the less I give a damn about impressing others, the better it works. Less guilt, less drama, more happiness.

I’m also pretty good with change and not holding a grudge, and I’ll happily admit if I’m wrong, that’s all OK. I’ll admit there’s a small, snarky inner bitch inside me but I’ve been working on trying to duct-tape her mouth shut. She's one strong chick. But I have to plead No Contest to some of these, in particular No’s 13 through 15.

I have a particular attachment to the past, and stay loyal to people who I once knew even if I know deep down that the expiry date has long since come and gone. I find it really, really hard to let go even if I know it’s bad for me. I love reminiscing and am completely nostalgic about my past, as you’ve probably already guessed! It’s hard for me to view that as a bad thing, and it’s not like I want to go back there, I just love to remember when I was young, clueless and carefree without regard for the consequences. I’m more likely to think of the end-game these days, and whilst it’s a far less dangerous way to live, sometimes I do miss the spontaneity and the look-without-leaping that got me into both trouble and some amazing experiences that I never would have otherwise.

And some of the best times I’ve had have been past-related, like school reunions, having friendships that have lasted for 20 years, and then re-establishing contact with people from my past that turn out to be wonderful re-additions to my life.  

I guess it’s a matter of differentiating what from the past is worth keeping and what you should let go of, that’s my interpretation.

And the last point really got me – stop living your life to other people’s expectations. I think my desperate need for approval has led me to live for others rather than myself. Strangely enough, this started to change when I had my son – you’d think I’d start living for him and of course I did, but having Elijah gave me the strength to make decisions that were in OUR best interests and the backbone to carry them through. I didn’t have the courage of my convictions for a large part of my life, however being a mum has given me purpose and clarity, and I guess not enough time to deal with the bullshit that used to accompany my life. Lately I’ve made a few big decisions and feel for the first time that I actually AM living for me (and Elijah) rather than according to the expectations of others.

And it feels good.

What do you do to feel happier? Are you guilty of any of these? What do you do to overcome them? Read the full article here and let me know what you think!

And if anyone has stronger duct tape for that inner bitch, please send it over.

Happy Easter all!

xx

I Don't Speak Boy

When my son was born we had no idea what to do with him.

He was not only the first grandchild and hence the first baby we'd had anything to do with since, well, we were kids, but also the first boy.

We are a family of women. I come from a family with one sister, and my stepmother has two daughters and five, yes, five, sisters. And let's just say there's a large proportion of alpha females in the mix.

Any men in the family have obviously learned throughout the years to either make themselves damn near invisible or just sit there and shut up. The old happy wife/happy life philosophy is rampant in my family and it works to great effect. Even my dad, who is the rock of my world, is a quiet considered man forced to live in a house full of ballet, pink and bows with great grace, doesn't say a whole lot unless he has something meaningful to say...or trying to get a reaction. Bless.

So when Elijah came along we were clueless. Nicknamed the 'crash test dummy' it took us a while to figure out what the heck to do. It's lucky the poor kid wasn't dressed in frills and bows, frankly.

And over the years the gender divide has become so apparent that I came to the profound realisation...

I don't speak boy.

There are many things I adore about having a son, don't get me wrong. Whilst I'm a self-confessed girly girl I thoroughly enjoy taking him to see Transformers at the cinema, building Lego - I have my own obsession with the Bionicle figures, riding the craziest rides at the theme park... (in fact I'm THAT mum that you hate who dragged him on the second he hit the height requirement, thus allowing him to brag to friends who then try to make YOU take them on it. Sorry about that).

But there are certain things that a boy REALLY gets into where he may as well be speaking a foreign language.  And I just don't get it.

First there was Pokemon. If I ever meet the maker of this particularly awful piece of anime, I hope he runs fast. Seriously. For years I was forced to listen to E's obsession with these silly little characters where he'd blather on endlessly, and quite frankly I just couldn't deal. It became a famous saying in our house where I would just cut him off at the pass by saying "I don't speak Pokemon".  I felt bad but really? I couldn't understand a word.
Don't get me started on Ben 10, I am just thankful that phase passed relatively quickly as it is just too painful to discuss. I've blocked it out for my own sanity. Let's just say the day E decided he was too old for good ol' Ben was one of the happier days of my life.

So the latest one, Ninjago. So OK, I get the Lego, in fact I'm happy to buy this for him as at least it is somewhat educational (following instructions/building things etc). But then there's the cards, the action figures, something called spinners, the Iphone game app, the website...FFS! E got some money for Easter and we strolled on over to Target today and whilst I'm lustfully glancing down the aisles of pink, wondering if I'm too old to collect Monster High dolls (seriously! Where were these when I was a kid!), he's pulling at me down to the biggest display I've ever seen of Ninjago, Ninjago, Ninjago.

I'm subjected to Ninjago speak on a daily basis and my Iphone keeps getting 'borrowed' so he can play the game app...he may as well be speaking Trekkie.

Never has the gender divide been more apparent. Men might be from Mars and Women from Venus but I think boys are from an entirely different universe.

Clearly the marketing people of Ninjago deserve a raise. And mums around the world a bloody great big drink.

xx

My son, the artist.

Give a kid a canvas and some paints and tell him to get creative...

This is the result.

I'm thinking he shouldn't give up on the academics.

Easter chocolate doesn't have calories, right?

The day seemed endless but finally, here we are, staring down the doorway to a lovely, long Easter weekend.



E's Easter haul, 2011



I love Easter, and even more so since Elijah was born. There is something so special and magical about holidays with kids...so much anticipation and then seeing his beautiful, innocent excited face in the morning when he wakes up. I'm blessed with a kid who really appreciates everything, and who wholeheartedly still believes in the Easter Bunny and Santa (as mum is FAR too poor to be able to afford to buy all that stuff...ha!). So I treasure every time like it's the last, as with him approaching his 12th birthday it just very well may be.





So of course this week has been filled with excited chatter for what the magic bunny might bring, and how he might bring it. We have a wily Easter Bunny in this house, sometimes he hides things or makes trails...what will he do this year? And the million dollar question - will E get to bed at any kind of reasonable hour?

This time a year ago I was on the road to Tenterfield, to visit my father in his new motel for the first time ever. It was a weekend to remember alright - a busted engine two hours into the journey leaving me stranded on the side of the road...a trip to Warwick with a complete stranger, only to then have to turn around and return to the car to wait for the tow truck, and then back on the road to Tenterfield.  So 9 hours later we finally arrived. It turned out to be a wonderful weekend and E was beyond spoilt, but the getting-there part is an experience I'd rather forget.

Funnily enough the prospect of us visiting this Easter wasn't mentioned...

We have had some fabulous times in Tenterfield, but our first trip was one of the more special, despite the debacle of our arrival. I must say though I am really looking forward to a few days at home to relax after what has been a very busy year so far. Sometimes it's just nice to be home and with the forecast being a beautifully sunny, warm few days, I am thinking a trip to the roof pool or three might be in order.



And I'm charging up the video camera E scored for Christmas to capture his priceless reaction to the Easter Bunny's visit on Sunday morning.

May your Easter be special and your chocolate be free from calories :)

xx

 

  



Facebook should not be a weapon!

OK I'll be the first to admit, I love Facebook. Like really love Facebook.

On a good day, I'd happily marry Facebook as it can brighten my day, lift my spirits and bring me closer to my friends. And to reconnect with people that you really shouldn't have lost touch with in the first place. And having some..um...eccentric and enthusiastic posters as my friends who see good old FB as a way to share all the bizarre things that happen in this big old world, it can have me laughing so hard I nearly wet myself.

And yes I need a life.

To me, FB is a great way to unwind after a long day or to entertain my friends (hey they entertain me so it's only fair). Harmless escapism.

But the lovely, loyal and heartwarming FB also has a seedy underbelly.

Oh we've all got those friends...you know them. You've got one too. You know, the friend who insists on clogging up live feed with inane status updates that chronicle minute by minute their lives, generally along the lines of what they had for breakfast, what they're going to have for lunch...

Or those that use FB as a cry for attention, posting cryptic items designed to make you feel sorry for them, worry about them and write to them to make sure they're OK.

You get the picture. Annoying but relatively harmless and nothing that hiding their status updates from your live feed can't fix.

But then there's those that use FB as a weapon. And with the right application, the fallout can be deadly.

It seems ridiculous that FB can have such a huge impact on a 30-something's life yet every day you read articles where FB has been blamed for breaking up this person's marriage, the disintegration of that friendship, dramatic misunderstandings and arguments etc etc.

We've also all seen those comments on friends' pages that have made us go, 'ouch'. Airing dirty laundry just ain't cool in my book. Take it offline, people.

And then there's the infamous and dreaded Unfriend and worse...the Block.

To me, unfriending should only be undertaken with those that you barely knew and probably won't ever see again, those who you've mutually had such little impact on each other's lives that they probably wouldn't even notice you've unfriended them. I can honestly say that I've probably only used it once or twice, and it's been those people that I'd known for a week two years ago that I haven't seen or spoken to since that don't make the cut.

If for some reason you have an issue with a friend, to me there's only two logical ways forward: either work it out in person (NEVER on FB) or just move on. You can choose not to respond to that person if they do comment on your page, that's your prerogative.

But unfriending is way harsh. Particularly when it leaves the unfriended scratching their heads wondering what they did wrong.

The block on the other hand is just cruel. Unless someone is genuinely stalking you (in which case feel free to block, report, file an AVO, whatever it takes) then the block is akin to using an Uzi to kill a fly. It's hurtful and in most instances, totally unnecessary.

So there you go. What does FB mean to you? A harmless place to play and share or have you too experienced the dark side?

Play nicely kids, and see you on FB!

xx

School Video Warning: Nostalgia Ahead

A few weeks ago I got together with my old Grammar gang for a girls night in at my friend Kathy's amazing house (the views of the CBD are incredible). We do this a couple of times a year and there's always way too much food washed down with copious quantities of gossip, laughter and much love. Oh yes, and the odd cocktail.

I've said before that my friends are everything to me and this group of women hold such a special place in my heart. We met when we were 14 or 15 and essentially held each other's hands (and hair) back throughout that traumatic, ridiculously dramatic angsty period we call high school, which is no picnic for any teenage girl, let alone when struggling with their fashion identity in the late 80s. Over the years we've grown even closer and we know each other through and through, good, bad and really, really ugly. If we weren't friends, let's just say we could really do some damage.

A more different group of girls you couldn't hope to meet and yet we never fail to find common ground. We might not speak for months but within 5 minutes it's like we saw each other yesterday.

• There's Cathy the extrovert and the funniest, craziest and most loving person you'll ever hope to meet. I can guarantee that if I call Cathy when I'm feeling miserable and I'll be laughing myself sick in 5 minutes or less.
• Kathy, a jeweller/artist with the most talent I've ever seen in one person but ridiculously humble and never one to blow her own trumpet. She is sweet and endlessly compassionate and I feel lucky to have her in my life.
• And Jane, how to describe Jane? Let's just say if you're ever upset you can ring her and sob on her shoulder for as long as you need without her ever once telling you to wake up to yourself. Even if you really need to. She's incredibly special. Everyone needs a friend like Jane in their lives.

So this was the group assembled for the evening when someone had a bright idea...let's pull out the school video, so thoughtfully converted to DVD courtesy of our absent friend Larissa (who is ballsy, honest and opinionated but always listens and is truly an amazing friend. I am in awe of her. Larissa and I first were friends and then hated each other at school however after a drunken apology at our ten year reunion (hey, my son was only 9 weeks old and it was my first drinking night in about a year - that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it), we've never exchanged a cross word since. And you gotta admire someone who comes up 10 years on and asks you to forgive her for being 'a total bitch at high school').

Anyway...

Oh. My. God.
Oh. My. God.
Oh. My. God.

What a trip! So many memories condensed into approximately 60 minutes. Of course the picture and sound quality sucks due to the woeful technology in 1990 but wow, what an impact. So very trippy to be sitting on a couch with the self-same girls on the screen...friends then and better friends now. We sang and laughed and cringed and squealed with embarrassment. It was awesome.

From the crappy song we were forced to sing at our graduation ('this is the time to remember...cause it will not last forever...") to the most cringe-worthy fashion parade EVER (as previously stated, 1990 was an unfortunate time in fashion history)...nostalgia abounded.

I left feeling slightly teary and sad for the years gone so quickly but totally uplifted as I always do after hanging out with these special women.

Willow said in her letter to her teenage self that we should all embrace our female friendships and it is so true. Perhaps it's because I'm single that I treasure and nurture these friendships but I hope no matter my relationship status in the future that this will never change. There is something just so inexplicably warm and energising about positive female friendships that can really change your life.

Love you girls!

xx

An oldie but a goodie...Taken several years ago of some of the girls...

Is Cooking With Poo the Oddest Book Title of the Year?

I've mentioned this before but I turn into a puerile 10 year old boy when faced with clever and funny turns of phrase, in fact they don't even need to be that clever.

So imagine my delight when I stumbled on a website announcing the winner of the Oddest Book Title of the Year. Yes, you too could be the proud owner of the Diagram Prize, with its 34 year history...all you need is a snigger-worthy title, and probably some sort of book deal as well, it doesn't actually go into specifics.

So the recipient of this year's prestigious award is Cooking With Poo. Awesome.

Personally I believe 'The Great Singapore Penis Panic and the Future of America Mass Hysteria' was robbed. At only $9.99 on amazon.com, I am sorely tempted to download but am worried that it just won't live up to the hype.

And even better, Amazon suggests that the following tome is frequently bought together with the Penis Panic:

'Little Green Men, Meowing Nuns and Head-Hunting Panics: A Study of Mass Psychogenic Illness and Social Delusion'

Gold.  The stuff of bestsellers, right there (meowing nuns...snigger).

Which brings me to the book I bought Elijah for Christmas based purely on its book title:

'Big Pants, Burpy and  Bumface: ...And Other Totally True Names!

 

We've I've spent many an evening leafing through amusing myself as only a 10 year old boy can. Totally recommend it.

Thanks for finishing my Monday on an up-note Mr Internet. You've earned your keep today.

xx