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7 May

Kiki turns 1 364 days.

Tomorrow, will be 365, and then you are one.

I can’t believe it. Although I clearly remember the second you were born, it feels like you’ve been here all along, or maybe you’ve just always been with me in one form or another.

You’ve had a couple of colds, you’ve got a couple of teeth, you’ve taken a couple of assisted steps. In many ways, on the grand scheme of babies, you are unremarkable, but that’s only  if you’re not looking properly.

Your great grandmother, Grand Nana, wrote you a letter saying how sometimes you just know that a child is an angel straight from heaven. It sounds a little schmaltzy, but Kiki, you have a light inside you. Such a tiny person, with such a big, shining light.

You just smile at everyone and they can’t help but love you. Your flashing dimples are like a prize that you give freely.

You’ve been known to throw yourself at people for a cuddle. Sometimes you know them, sometimes you don’t. You choose them, though, and make their day.

You’re fierce, too. You defend yourself well against your big brother and I can see you’re fiery. I like that in a girl, although I’m sure by the time you’re 13 I’ll reconsider that sentence, when you’re giving me a run for my money.

My darling, at 12 months you’re trying to walk and trying to talk, and trying to be like your big brother. You love food, often squawking like a gremlin if someone has something and hasn’t offered you any. You’ll put your head down, and determinedly crawl, with the force of a wombat, over to claim some nosh. You don’t care that you only have two bottom teeth. You’ll try anything. Your Papa jokes that the only time you cry is between dinner and dessert.

You have the most amazingly soft skin, and you love to crawl naked on the couch. Up and down. Up and down. Must feel liberating or something because you don’t do it as much with your kit on. I love to cuddle you before bath time. I take your clothes off and just run my hands over your back and arms as you sit on my lap. The feel of you is intoxicating, and fills me with great, big, crazy love.

You have a husky laugh. Sometimes it surprises me because you laugh at the strangest things. I guess you get that from me. One day you, too, will be the only person laughing loudly at the cinema. It’s good to see humor where others don’t. Life is funny at inopportune moments.

kiki turns 1 You’re a very cuddly baby, and when you rest your little head into the crook of my neck, something inside me just melts. These days are going by so fast, and soon you’ll be a toddler, a child, a teen, and then grown. Sometimes it just flashes before me, and I want to hold you tight, envelope you into me and just keep you almost 1.

But then I’d miss all the fun we’re going to have. The learning about each other, and the discussions about life and the fights about freedom, and how much I don’t understand you because I could never possibly have felt like you and all of the crazy stuff that happens before you set off on your own.

I’ll just take a mental snap shot of this moment. I’ll take a gazillion photos, and write a few thousand words so I remember this year.
This has unarguably been one of the hardest years of my life to date, little one. For various reasons.

But let me assure you, that far outweighing the difficulties, this has also been the best year of my life, because you came to complete our family, and in many ways, you completed my heart.

Happy first birthday, Miss Kiki Wiggles. You are truly delicious.

kiki ah 3

Hooking up with Team Ibot over with EssentiallyJess, who is also pretty delicious, coincidently.

Organisational Skills and other things that fail me…

3 May

need to buy a diary

So, I was invited to join this new weekly linky called ‘The Lounge’, right?

It’s hosted by 5 pretty happening bloggers so when I received a personal invite from the Very Inappropriate Rachel (swears like it’s an art form), it felt like I was being invited to morning tea with the cool kids.

This week’s subject was ‘Things I thought I’d be better at’, and seeing as I’m shit at loads of stuff, I thought this post would write itself. I’ve been mulling it over.

I suppose I thought I’d be better at taking criticism, constructive or otherwise. I’m not too bad taking it from a stranger, but if I’m married to you? Forget it.

I could write about my foot and hand hygiene. I thought by now I would be better at washing hands before meals, not biting the skin on my fingers or filing back the rough rhinoceros dermis on my hooves.

A rhino's interpretation of my feet.

A rhino’s interpretation of my feet.

I could write about tact and how I thought by 36 years of age I would have mastered the art of tact. I’m shithouse at tact. Even when I think I’m being delicate, I come across as subtle as a punch in the face. It’s part of my charm, or so I keep telling myself.

I definitely thought I’d be better at grammar. I recently wrote in an email to someone ‘you know you’re shit’ and created all manner of awkward confusion. The apostrophe catastrophe will go down in the annuls.

I thought I’d be awesome at deciphering my baby’s cries by now. I’m still fumbling around in the dark (metaphorically), as I fumble around in the dark (literally) and I’ve been doing this in one form or another for three years.Is she hot? Cold? In pain? Or just stubbornly not wanting to give up the last pre-dawn feed?

But if you really want to know what I thought I’d be better at……

Time keeping.

Not time as in I can’t tell the time. Or even punctuality. I’m very punctual.

Time, as in, writing stuff in a calendar. Keeping track of dates.

I imagine my brain is akin to iCal and the steel trap will not let me down, but time and again, I simply forget shit. Appointments, play dates, birthdays… You name it, and I’ll thank you, because I’ve forgotten it.

I should, at the very least, write down birthdays. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I think I’ll remember, and then….. well, it’s not my birthday, so I don’t care.

I have one girlfriend who’s birthday I never wrote down but by some sheer act of God, I called her three years in a row, randomly, on her birthday. Sadly, I never mentioned the words Happy, or Birthday, but I think I got away with it just for sheer arsey flukey-ness. I missed it this year, however.
Should have jotted it somewhere as it seems my connection with the Universal Birthday Calendar has been severed.

I’m a shocker for the double book. Considering I really don’t have much of a life, I’m forever finding that I’ve told two or even three separate people that I’ll do something, or hang out, and it’s all one big cluster frock…..or whatever the expression is.

It doesn’t make me look popular, it make me look like a dick.

The other side of that coin is setting a date and it simply slips my mind.

So, back to the link for The Lounge…… I knew it was opening May the 2nd, and I was ruminating and contemplating and I was thinking that this ought to be my subject matter, this lack of diarising.

I truly thought, that by almost 40, I would be  miraculously organised. I would keep a diary, or use ical (Lord knows I’m on my phone AND computer enough) and not be as unorganised as a teenager. I used to be a producer, FFS! My entire life was schedules, dates and diaries…..but to be fair, I was pretty shit at it then too.

I was better at the long lunch or wrap party part of my job. In fact,for a control freak, I’m quite the oxymoron.

Then, I looked at the date, and blow me down, it was May the 2nd yesterday and I hadn’t written a single word…and I ruminated and contemplated myself a late post……oh, the sweet, sweet irony.

It’s official. I’m going to do diary….

Would you recommend a paper diary or cyber diary?

What did you think you’d be better at by now?

Check out what other people haven’t got the knack of yet over at Misguided Musings, and hooking up with the floggers at With Some Grace.

Is the Circus Un-PC?

30 Apr
Disclaimer - Not a real circus elephant....this one's a famous actress.

Disclaimer – Not a real circus elephant….this one’s a famous actress.

As a little girl I really loved the circus.

Not Cirque Du Fancy Pants, Grande Chapiteau type circus, but the real McCoy, Big Top, lions and clowns and folk that date their cousins type circus.

When one was in town a while ago, a little flame of excitement sprang into my belly and I thought ‘cooooooooool’.

I imagined awesome photos for a photo blog, and having a cracking family day out with the colourful, carnival folk. I envisaged myself and D Man sitting there, breathing sighs of awe and wonder at the trapeze, tonguing fairy floss straight from the stick that leaves splinters in your tongue, and squealing with delight at the dancing horses (well, at least, that’s what I would be doing, he’d probably be picking his nose and eating it, or flicking popcorn into the hair of the lady in front)…..but when I mentioned it to a friend they said  ’no way, I don’t give my money to them. They have animals.’

Dancing horses are bad? I guess they are, aren’t they. With their spangly head dresses and scantily clad girls riding them.

Now, I’ll admit that I did think it was illegal to have lions and tigers and bears (oh, my) these days but they make the whole circus idea also got a bit more exciting. D Man LOVES lions and tigers………. now it was suuuuuuuuuuuuper cooooooooool.

Then I felt bad for not being more PC, and animal activist-esque. Is the circus no longer the done thing?

Oh no!! I love the circus. Those ponies are so clever.

Speaking of clever ponies… What about equestrian riding?

I’m sure that some of my readers would be pony lovers, so is equestrian ok? What’s the diff?

Jodhpurs and sensible headwear versus spangled g-strings and tiaras?

Miranda Kerr - splitting the difference.

Miranda Kerr – splitting the difference.

Is it bad that I want my kids to experience the wonder and magic of the Big Top… To smell the saw dust and see the Ring Master call in the clowns.
sexy ringmaster
Obviously, I don’t support emaciated bears or moth eaten lions, but I imagine if the animal is already a circus animal, it can’t be released into the National Park.

Wouldn’t the RSPCA be all over circus’, with their seriously strict codes of practice?

I guess by supporting them it encourages the practice to continue.

The ad for Stardust Circus (it even sounds like magic, doesn’t it?) says that the animals are treated like part of the family, so maybe they’re really loved. Maybe the lions are invited to Sunday roast and the monkeys all get pissed and give each other wedgies, just like real families do.

I’ve been going through the whole thing in my head. If the circus is no longer a PC past time, what about the zoo? Is the zoo out too?

I friggen’ love the zoo.

Does it depend on the level of accuracy in the enclosure – how alike their natural habitat it is, or are they all out?
I get that a flea bitten mangy lion is not a lion in his prime, more than that, it is a crime against nature, but if they are well looked after, does that make a difference?

We went to Mogo Zoo down on the South Coast. It was a small zoo, specialising in endangered species rehabilitation. They had bred some of these endangered species in captivity, thereby propagating the species. That’s a good thing, right?

As long as the animal is endangered, and in a breeding program it’s ok?

Just to recap, as long as it’s endangered,  it didn’t arrive in the country smuggled in a tube up someone’s butt (bird and reptiles, not big game), and is willing to procreate, we’re good to go.

It’s seems like there’s a hell of a lot of grey area here, no?

Anyway, I’m on the fence.

As a child, I loved the circus, as an adult, I get that it’s unethical.

Bloody hell, I hate being an adult sometimes.

What are your thoughts?

Would you go to the circus?

Blogging on Tuesday with my fellow iboters over at EssentiallyJess.

You’re not Wonder Woman, and that’s ok.

19 Apr

Wonder Woman bakes bread too

I had a little meltdown this week. It wasn’t really a private affair.

In fact, it was a little bit public.

Not public like pulled-my-undies-up-over-my head-and-wailed-in-a-supermarket type public, but public enough that a few of my friends rallied and came to my aid as they could sense that my frantic waving may actually be me drowning.

Public enough that some of those friends saw my tears because I felt squashed by the enormity of this playing grown-ups malarky.

After chatting and crying and laughing and drinking lots of tea, I feel like I’m back on top, but I’m left with a residual embarrassment that my friends now may not see me as a croissant baking (yes, I will milk it) super homemaker, juggling children, writing and chainsaws, all without breaking a sweat.

Now the truth is out there.

I am not Wonder Woman.

I would totally have a crack at wearing her outfit, but I would be nothing more than a pouchy-bellied, hairy-legged, mortal wearing a costume.

Why does this shame me?

It makes me wonder about women in general, I mean, what is up with us chicks, and dudes?
Dudes aren’t immune to this overwhelming sensation of being swallowed, surely.

The exhausting newborn phase, the frustrating toddler phase, the mind-bending child rearing business/juggling act while you work, keep the house, tend the garden, have nutritious dinners on the table not just once, but 7 times a week, and keep your sanity in check, day in and day out, is a damned hard slog and no one escapes without feeling like it’s all too hard sometimes.

I must once more applaud the solidarity of the sisterhood (sorry, lads. It’s not an exclusive club per se).
I cried out and my girls were there by my side.

On one sunny morning, on my back deck, 4 of my girls and I drank tea and talked about where we’re all at and suddenly I realised that this shit of mine is not unique.

I am not a rare species, so unusual that no one can perceive my plight.

I am not alone.

My friends were saying their relationships aren’t perfect and their children aren’t perfect. Other people’s lives aren’t as amazing as they may seem on the outside. One friend said she used to hear her neighbour yelling at her kids and wonder how you could speak to your darlings like that…. and now she feel like she has become that lady.

I sometimes feel like that lady.

I am not Wonder Woman.

Do you ever feel like that lady?

Probably, because you are not Wonder Woman either.

I mentioned on my FB page that I felt like I was not coping very well last week, and my online community poured love onto my page. How awesome is that?
Some people I’ve physically met, but others don’t know me in person, but they were there with advice and love.

Some great words of wisdom came from that. I want to share a few, you know, in case you ever feel like going for a long walk off a short pier -

If you start to feel like it’s all too hard, call a friend, and go for a cup of tea.

Take a walk in the sun, or dance to some music that you love.

Honour your feelings. Allow yourself to feel what you’re feeling, but be kind to yourself.

Nurture yourself.

Slow down and breathe.

Have a date night.

My personal favourite was have a whiskey. Whiskey always helps.

I just really want to impress upon you, if you’re feeling blue, you’re not alone.

Tell someone you’re struggling because there is no shame in not being Wonder Woman, and sharing the struggle brings forth wonderful women…. and wonderful men.

Flogging and flashing with some great linky link ups,  With Some Grace,  Hi, Mama G, thanks for having me!

Three

10 Apr

Three years ago, after 22 long hours, I held my son in my arms, and in that moment my entire life changed forever.

I have always wanted children and known they were in my future and I couldn’t wait to hold him, even before I was pregnant, my arms longed for him.

Even though I had this longing, I don’t know if I was fully prepared for what it actually means. I mean, you know about the serious lack of sleep heading your way, but nothing really prepares you for the endless months of sleep deprivation.
You realise that, unlike a horse or cow, a baby human is completely dependent on you for years, leaving you little space to be you anymore.
You become a new you. Most of the time it is fine, but sometimes I pine for the old me.
My spontaneity has gone. I have become kinda o.l.d.

Today was my big boy’s third birthday. I have such nostalgia today but it’s not for him. It’s for me. My life.

Maybe something has inherently happened at Terrible Twos has given way to Fucking Awful Threes, but the last few weeks I’ve felt like perhaps I’m not quite as equipped for this job as I first thought.

Yesterday I fantasised about going for a walk. On my own. And not stopping…… I imagined the whole scenario.

I’d drop the kids to the neighbours so they’d be safe until Mister H came home and by then I’d have just disappeared. I have always had a sense of the dramatic.
I used to think the missing persons people had met with foul play, but maybe some of them were just tired of picking up after everyone and being pierced with shrill syllables.

I don’t really want to disappear.

It was just a fantasy. Sometimes I fantasise I’m on The Voice too.

I just thought maybe out there on my walk I wouldn’t feel so torn in pieces. Trying to fulfil everyone’s whims is a fuller than full time job but my time card doesn’t get any extra hours.

There is a new tone in Mister Three’s repertoire that pierces my brain and I can’t reason with him. The Super Nanny would shake her head at me, but I really don’t know how to parent this new person in my house.

I love him with my whole, entire being, but he is grinding me down.

I also wasn’t prepared for what children would do to my relationship.

Three years ago my boyfriend became my baby daddy, and something changed in that. Now instead of nights dining and drinking, we play musical beds until the sun comes up and then he’s gone at dawn for the day and it’s me left. I miss my boyfriend. He’s become kinda o.l.d. too.

My friend’s husband said the problem with us girls is that we have too much time on our hands to think and internalise our feelings, and that perhaps in this time we focus too much on the negative stuff.

He makes a valid point. The hours and days of child rearing are so long, it’s easy for your thoughts to turn sour and begin picking at yourself like a crazy bird picks it’s feathers.

Maybe it is as simple as choosing happiness… and wearing earplugs so I can’t hear the whinging.

I am nostalgic, this evening. As my baby turns three.

On another note, I ate a lot of chocolate cupcakes today….. didn’t help the blues but shit they were yummy.

Silicone Girlfriends and Labiaplasty… All in a day’s work.

6 Apr

I started working in restaurants and bars in and around Sydney’s infamous Kings Cross area when I was about 17 1/2.
Being a curious sort of gal, I had pretty much seen everything there was to see by the time I was 19.

I’d been in sex shops, strip joints, and BDSM clubs, and I thought I was pretty much all over the sex game.
I didn’t have a particular interest in smut or bondage but I was super curious about people who did.

As I said, at the conclusion of my chat with Isiah from Passionate Spirit she offered me a media pass to Sexpo. I jumped at the chance. I thought it would be interesting blog fodder because I need more to write about than my kids and the washing. I used to be so much more interesting. I thought Sexpo might be a leg up, if you will, to an interesting post or two.

If you haven’t quite joined the dots, allow me. Sexpo is an expo, for sex.

That’s kinda interesting.

I wasn’t interested in seeing market stalls of sex toys, I mean, seen one double headed dildo, seen them all, right?

I was interested in seeing who would be there. I knew the Sydney Conference Centre was massive, so it couldn’t all just be vibrators….. and besides, I was told it was ladies night and there would be a free showbag in the deal.Pricasso

Isiah was keen to interview people, and thanks to her, I met some fascinating people and asked some questions that I would normally not have had the chance to, and I can safely say I saw things I’d never seen before.

One of the first things I saw, once my eyes had acclimatised to the flourescent lights, buzzing toys and silicone vaginas, was a man wearing nothing but a spray tan and a pink top hat painting portraits with his penis.

I have no idea at what stage in his life he decided finger painting was for chumps and decided to use his chub, but the question I was burning to ask was -

Doesn’t it get chaffed????

I hadn’t yet had a champers so I didn’t ask the question, but I did look him up, seeing as his url was tattooed on his back.

In case he forgets....

In case he forgets….

He’s travelled the world with his talented knob, painting portraits for Hugh Heffner and the Queen. Heff recieved his graciously at the Playboy Mansion, but somehow I don’t think Lizzie and Pricasso shared a cup of char at Buckingham Palace.

The answer to my question was yes. It does get chaffed, so his l’il fella needs lots of down time.

Continuing down the avenues of smut we came across a sandwich board selling Designa Vaginas for the bargain price of $5000, give or take a buck. I’m guessing Louis Vuitton was not designing these purses.

Pure poetry, and a bargain.

Pure poetry, and a bargain.

Labiaplasty is the third highest cosmetic procedure these days. CRaZy!!

I’ve never really thought in depth about my labia, but apparently there is a large proportion of women who are deeply unhappy with the appearance of their vagina, to the point of not being able to relax sexually. I discovered that the porn industry has a lot to answer in this area because that’s our gauge on ‘attractive’ lady bits. We don’t often see other vajayjays to compare our own to, so we think it’s supposed to look like they do in porn. Nice, tidy, even lips.
If porn shows a fleshy inner labia, they are actually bumped up to a higher classification, therefore they will often airbrush or use only girls with small labia or augmented bits.

Obviously, if you are experiencing chaffing, discomfort or some other physical problem it’s worth investigating but I doubt many guys with funny-old lopsided, wrinkly testicles think they need to go under the knife to be sexually attractive.

This surgeon also performs ‘G Spot Enhancement’ by injecting a filler (same as for your lips) to make the G-spot more pronounced, therefore picking up more friction whilst rubbing uglies. A quick and easy procedure that you can bang out in your lunch break, and still have time to fit in some sushi.
We argued that education would be a better route as the G-spot is still shrouded in mystery, with many people not knowing how to find it or drive it.
The surgeon tried to look surprised at this suggestion, but he’d had too much Botox done and just looked blank.

Then I met the beautiful, if quiet, Hirushi. Hirushi is a stunning Asian girl with long dark hair and pert bosoms. Unless you want her to bosoms to be otherwise.
Hirushi, along with her silicone sisters, is a life size doll.

Did you ever see the beautiful, quirky Ryan Gosling film Lars and the Real Girl? I loved that movie but that’s my only experience with a real, unreal girl until I got up close and personal with the stunning Hirushi.

Hirushi, Fantasy Doll

For the mere price of $7000 you can have a Fantasy Doll created to your exact specifications. What colour nipples and what size vagina would you like?

I wonder if they offer McSuper Sizing here?

I asked what kind of person would spend such an exorbitant amount (cheaper than a wedding, just quietly) of money on a doll?

All kinds of people apparently.

Perhaps after 30 years of marriage a man discovers a penchant for young hot women (he just discovered that???), and it’s less dangerous than an affair and cheaper than a divorce.

Wow.

One client had discovered he had three months left to live so he wanted to spend his final weeks with a gorgeous companion.
Hmmmmmm, gorgeous, yes. Companion? She’s a little on the reserved side.

I’ll admit that there may have been moments in my marriage that I wished my husband was mute, but I’m generally thankful for a pulse, and when he lets me stick my freezing cold winter feet on his legs in bed, he’ll warm them up. Fantasy Dolls are decidedly chilly. Particularly at a dinner party.

If you don’t wish to pay for a whole silicone girl, I also found you could buy just a part of one. No prizes for guessing which part. Upon investigation it actually did feel very life-like (enquiring minds need to know), but I imagine as far as companions go, it’s not much less awkward at a dinner party… still with the amount of prosthetic phallus’ out there, you can hardly blame the dudes for having an option that ain’t attached to their arms.

There was one more person I was actually awed by, Kim, the submissive. We talked about her relationship with her Master, and what she thought of 50 Shades of Grey. I don’t think I could fit everything I thought when I talked to Kim into this blog so I think she’ll get one of her own. Stay tuned for more tales of Sexpo….

Lucky I didn’t go to the Easter Show or I’d be writing about farm animals, hey?

Did you know about the porn industries views on lady bits? How interesting is that?

Would you go to Sexpo?

Interview with a sex therapist….How to regain your mojo.

29 Mar

intimacy

(source)

I have a theory about sex.

My theory is that the more bonking you do, the less annoying your partner is (you really ought to be bonking your partner for best effect). Sex is the thread that binds you to each other and without it, you can become unravelled.

When I spoke with sex therapist, Isiah McKimmie, from Passionate Spirit I thought I’d hit her with my theory straight off the bat to see if I was on the money.

She agreed heartily. I decided I liked her.

Isiah went on to say that when your sex life is working well, your entire relationship can change, and therefore your entire lives can change.

I may have mentioned once or twice that my mojo has been somewhat lacking since I gave up sleep, so when the opportunity arose for me to interview a sex therapist over a cup of tea, I jumped at the chance.

Is it lingerie, sex toys, 50 Shades of Grey or oysters that I need?

Nope. It’s way more simple than that.

Although the road to a banging sex life is not a short one (Isiah offers courses to couples, as opposed to one off visits), what we discussed was certainly not rocket science.

The first thing that a therapist would look at is your relationship to yourself.

How do you feel about your body?

How satisfied are you with your life?

Do you still feel like sexy you, or are you now only a wife and a mother?

One of the most obvious things is our confidence about our body after all of the changes it undergoes throughout pregnancy and childbirth. We may not feel that we can take the time to get ourselves back into the shape we were previously. It is natural that your body changes somewhat, but if your self esteem takes a battering in the process, it may be as simple as finding time to exercise.

Taking the time away from family can often cause guilt, but it’s really essential for mental health. The time you take away from your family can actually make you a better wife and mother…. and your mojo may just be a Zumba class away.

The second major area to look at is your communication with your partner.

How do you communicate about general issues? This will certainly affect the way you can communicate about sex.

Being able to communicate freely with our partners is terribly important. Some people NEVER tell their partner that a particular thing turns them on, or more importantly, turns them off, or irritates their sensitive, pink bits.

Really?

Isiah said something so poignant to this -

If you can’t communicate well in the bedroom, you probably aren’t communicating well out of it.

Aaah. Not rocket science.

Our sex lives are so personal, and people feel a great sense of embarrassment and shame about it. This embarrassment is something we may have been taught as teens when we’re curious about stuff and wanking like chimpanzees. You’ll go blind, grow hair on your palms, or nice girls simply don’t do those things.

Sex is natural.

Our bodies are ours to explore and enjoy.

There is no shame in pleasure.

The clitoris is the only part of the human body solely for pleasure. It has no greater function than to give sweet sensation. I think it was the Universe’s consolation prize for periods.

If you’re silently turning your back on your partner thinking ‘No way, buddy, I’m exhausted and my bikini line resembles Macy Gray’s afro’, perhaps your partner only hears ‘I’m not attracted to you anymore’…..and that’s just the tip of the communication iceberg.

Also, we need to try to lighten up about it. If it’s become the elephant in the room then everyone starts getting anxious and feeling rejected.

One of the hardest things when you have little people in the house is time. I mentioned to Isiah that between training, children and general exhaustion, Mister H and I have one perfect time for rumpy. That sweet moment only occurs twice in a week, and then if the planets don’t align correctly, it can be week before that magic moment rolls around again.

I suggested that scheduling sex was incredibly unsexy.

Not as unsexy as never having sex, Isiah replied.

Mmmmmm hmmmmm. I see her point.

Also, a quickie has its place, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re only having occasional quickies it’s no wonder your mojo is lacking. Biologically, it take 20 minutes for a woman’s body to warm up.

We all know that we are slower than men and require a tad more romancing and finessing in all the right places, but being ready for the main event is not as simple as getting lubed up.

It actually takes 20 minutes for your uterus to contract and get out of the way, so the penis doesn’t bash its insistent head against your sensitive lady bits. This is particularly the case shortly after giving birth as the uterus is often sitting a little lower in the chamber.

Did you know that? I didn’t, and I thought I knew it all.

If you think you don’t have enough time in the day for langorous loving touch, try turning off the television a couple of times a week. After dinner, instead of retiring to the lounge, turn off the tv, the computers and the iphones, and spend time together.

NEWS FLASH : watching tv together is not spending quality time together.

You could start by giving each other a massage. Not a ‘nudge nudge wink wink’ massage but perhaps you could start reacquainting yourselves with a no strings attached massage, without a happy ending? Hell, if you feel like throwing a leg over then climb aboard, but if sex has become the elephant under the bed, perhaps you need to take it off the table (not the dining room table. I mean, no sex) for a bit.

If you agree that you’re not going to do it for a few weeks, it can alleviate the guilt you may feel from not wanting to. It doesn’t mean you have an affection stand-off, you do other stuff.

Fun stuff. Sexy stuff. Loving stuff.

Remember when you first got together and you’d pash like teenagers on the loungeroom floor? When was the last time you had pash rash? Or dry humped till you came in your pants?

That stuff was exciting, so maybe it’s time to strip back your sex life?

Get back to the fun stuff.

Isiah and I talked a lot about wanking, on your own, together, whatever takes your fancy. It goes to reason that after you give birth perhaps your body feels different, likes different things. If you don’t explore your own body, how can you guide someone around?

Hell, we don’t strike out across town without Google mapping first, so why not chart this territory, too?

I was shocked when Isiah told me that 30% of women have difficulty (or never) orgasm. Some of her adult clients don’t know where their clitoris is. You can bet your bottom dollar that if they don’t know that, they probably don’t know about other erogenous zones, like that crazy little spot behind their knee, their armpit or the back of their neck.

You need to take the time to explore not just your lady bits, but your whole body, and it’s way more fun if you do it with your partner.

There is more sex than ever available to us, whether it’s erotica, porn, toys, or whatever that floats your boat. There is still so much guilt associated with exploring our own sexuality, why?

Why the shame?

If you’re a bit weirded out by the idea of a sex therapist, Passionate Spirit has a subscription based website with loads of information and techniques if you think maybe you need a little helping hand getting your love life back on track.

Maybe it’s as simple as simply getting back on the horse and doing it? Reawakening your sexual self.

If not, and you feel like your relationship needs a little help getting it’s mojo back, maybe you could consider sex therapy?
If your car isn’t working properly, you take it to a mechanic, right?

At the conclusion of our fascinating chat, Isiah told me she had a spare media pass to Sexpo if I wanted it……well, I thought, maybe a little research would be good.

Stay tuned for the Sexpo wrap-up. Holy dooly. I thought nothing could surprise me.

This post is not a sponsored post. I received no payment from Passionate Spirit. I just love talking about sex.

Check out Passionate Spirit’s Facebook page if you want a little mojo in your newsfeed.

Did you find this as fascinating as I did?

Can you talk about your mojo or are you a little shy?

If you know anyone that may benefit from this post, share it with them, and let’s get that elephant out in the open!

Hooking up with FYBF at With Some Grace so everyone can read about mojo rising. Check out what everyone else is flogging.


A Few Lessons in Patience, Grasshopper

26 Mar

fresh olivesPatience is one of those virtues that many people aren’t born with.

I wasn’t born with it. No, siree, Bob.

I’ve been known to lose my shit in all manner of places due to a distinct lack of willingness to endure. I used to be incensed by tardiness. A friend running late was enough to make me lose my cool, but now I almost expect people to be a little late, and people cancel last minute all the time when they have kids.

Thankfully, there are many opportunities in life that force allow you to train yourself to have a greater level of patience.

1. Parenting

If you don’t learn to overcome your impatience and quick temper, your head will implode and you are in danger of becoming an alcoholic. Children will make you late, make you tired and make your house messy. Watching a baby learn to feed themselves requires the utmost patience as you watch food going up their nose, all over the floor and in their hair.
You can almost guarantee they won’t do that at 15, so be patient.

2. The Post Office at Christmas

The post office brings out the S.L.O.W. in people. Everyone fumbles for their change, takes inordinate amounts of time to write things and chat to the cashiers about the weather. I hate the festive post office so much I always swear I’m going to send my cards in July… I never do, of course.
I tend to send none at all and say they got lost in the mail. Win.

Did I say I cut them? I used the term 'I' very loosely......

Did I say I cut them? I used the term ‘I’ very loosely……

3. The female toilet queue at a music festival 

There is nothing more disheartening than waiting until the last second to leave your favorite band to hit the Port-a-loo, and finding yourself at the end of a line of ladies jiggling from foot to foot. It’s amazing how you can hold it until just as you’re about to assume the ski-hover, 5 cms from the fetid toilet seat, and then you almost pee yourself as you undo your top button.

4. Listening to your Grandfather’s stories…..again.

I don’t know about your Grandfather, and after a recent little health hiccup, I’m pleased ol’ Fred is still around to be infuriating, but he tells the same stories over and over. I try not to cut him off or fill in the blanks but it’s not easy.
I was so thrilled recently when my child flat out refused I pull his finger.
He is smarter than I was at that age.

filling the olive jar with water

5. Growing Your Own Vegetables

From little things, big veges grow, but it doesn’t happen over night. Some things are sweeter and more delectable eaten as babies (think peas, beets and carrots, and lambs) but others need to time to ripen and mature into something that can grace your plate. Daily tending, with water and kind words can be a chore at times, but with perseverance and patience you too can eat a caterpillar nibbled, oddly genital shaped, organic vegetable.

6. Rendering video

Anyone in the business of movie making will know what I mean. Watching that little blue bar slowly creeping across the screen is maddening if you’re in a rush. A deep breath and a cup of tea may not speed it up, but it will relax you. Or have a whiskey. Or a wank.

7. Waiting for your husband to do the thing he said he’d do later

If I ask him again, it’ll be nagging. Only ask every 6 months so you cannot be accused.
After a year, pay someone else to do it.

8. The person in front at the checkout requiring a price check

This only ever happens when you’re in a rush or your kid is having a Force 10 meltdown. Annoyance is only momentarily alleviated if the product requiring said price check is of a personal nature, like KY or profillactucs  prophylactics frangers.

water and olives

9. City traffic

Suckballs. ‘Nuff said.

10. Brining your own olives

I’ve never done it before, and it’s certainly not hard. After gently slicing them all, I popped them in water which we lovingly change every day for 4 weeks. After the four weeks is up, I’ll put them in brine which we change every couple of days. After about 6 weeks in total, they’ll be ready to marinate in some olive oil with lemon and chili and garlic, if we so desire. Not hard, but requires great patience, Grasshopper.

Stay tuned for Olive Brining, Part 2.

Hooking up with Our Growing Edge for the monthly link up. Come and flash your culinary adventures with us…..only 4 days until this month is closed, but next month there will be another opportunity to tend your growing edge.

Check out deets here.

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EssentiallyJess is my homegirl, so pop over and see what shaking at ibotville…..

Do you want a piece of me? Holsbys birthday video.

22 Mar

Some of you may know that I used to be an actress.

Now, all of you can see why I gave it up.

You may also note, I have not given up being a total idiot.

Somethings will never change.

I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your comments, and clicks, emails and love, mean more to me than I can express.

I’m also well chuffed I stuck something out for a year.

Happy Birthday KUWTH. You’re now approaching toddlerhood.

Linking up with WithSomeGrace, to flog myself silly. Go see what Mama G is up to this week.

Whoring around this week with Flash Blog Friday, just so I can flash while I flog. Check out the FBF hostess with the mostess at Twinkle In The Eye

10 Hipster Words You Need To Be Cool

19 Mar

Due to the simple fact that I’m a fairly uncool, almost middle aged person, I realised I needed to get a little jiggy with my hipster speak.

Sadly, I think jiggy went out in early 2000 when the Fresh Prince stopped being known for music and started making in-roads as a serious actor.

I thought I’d share a few spectacular Gen Y-isms that everyone should try to absorb into their vernacular, in order to up their cool rank. Drop this shizzle and you too can sound like your finger is somewhere near the pulse, if not actually on it.

1. Amazeballs

‘That dress makes your eyes look amazeballs’

Not sure how it came about, but can you imagine if you were the first person that ever put those two words together?
His friends would have laughed their arses off at him, and then started using it as an in joke…..and then it went viral.

Would the opposite be suckballs? Should be. I love that too.

Can I start a suckballs revolution?

That would be amazeballs.

2. Rack

A rack is boobs. How someone came up with that, I’ll never know but I guess it has something to do with the top rack.
I don’t really use rack, as I’m not a boob spotter, but I do use rig for the entire kit.

‘Check out his rig’

3. Totes

‘I think he’s a douche bag’ ‘Totes’

I bloody totes love totes. You know why?

Because I’m really important and busy. So busy that using the word totally in it’s entirety is just too time consuming for me.
Using the word totes frees me up more time for Facebooking.

'Gee Burt, your rack looks totes amazeballs in that ensemble!'

‘Gee Burt, your rack looks totes amazeballs in that ensemble!’

4. Povo

‘I’d love to go see One Direction but I’m, like, povo’

I haven’t used this one, personally, but I can absolutely see the value in it.
Especially if I was, like, totally poverty stricken.

5. LOL

Laughing is so unattractive and passe. Your mouth is wide open, you can see your tonsils, you may even snort or slap your thigh. Lolling is the way forward.

No one ever peed their pants lolling.

Pissing myself lolling......(need to work on my trout pout)

Pissing myself lolling……(need to work on my trout pout)

6. Grill

‘He was all up in my grill’

Your grill is your face, or more specifically, your teeth, but for some reason I always thought it was your arse.
Your arse is your trunk.

If you have your grill in someone’s trunk, you’d better hope they’re buying you dinner.

7. My bad

‘Shit, dude, my bad’

This one is a lame arse apology.

Instead of saying sorry, and meaning it, like a normal person, this is to be used when you want to sound flippant and like you don’t really give a flying…… now, in my opinion, if you’re in a position where you should be apologising, and you’re all blasé about it, someone is totes within their rights to punch you in the face.

'Did you just say MY BAD?????'

‘Did you just say MY BAD?????’

8. Shizz or shizzle

These two can have totally different meanings.

You have ‘fo’ shizzle, my nizzle’ means for sure. WTF a nizzle is, I have no damned idea and can not find anything on the net……however, when I googled shizzle I found this, which is way funnier than anything I could ever come up with -

A word most often abused horribly by inexperienced suburban white douche-bags who wish to give themselves some falsified counterfeit form of street-cred.

Pure ghetto gold.

That said, I often also use shizzle for its other meaning. A polite form of shit i.e. I talk a lot of shizzle.
I feel like it’s code so my Nana won’t know I’ve got a mouth like a trucker.

Now I know I have a mouth like a suburban white douche-bag trucker.

My favorite kind.

9. Chillax
‘I like to chillax with a bevereeseplatter’
Brilliant. An amalgamation of two of my favorite things. Chilling and relaxing.
Obviously, amalgamating can’t be done willy-nilly as you’ll sound like a twat and no one will know what you’re talking about.
10.Whatevs
‘It’s your turn to change the baby’s nappy’ ‘Whatevs’
My personal favourite. We all know that ‘whatevering’ someone is the ultimate dismissal, but an abbreviated whatever is about a million times ruder.
Use wisely though, if said in an argument, your argue-ee is well within their rights to bust your grill.

Have you got coolisms to add to my list… help me stay cool.

I need all the help I can get.

Hooking up with totes rad EssentiallyJess cos it’s Tuesday.
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