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Ch 40: The day I made a hoon driver blush

Another day, another morning run with the pram.

It was a happy day, feeling great. Sun shining, no clouds and the locals with their canine kids we passed on the trail behind my house, were full of smiles and general pleasantries.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad place to live after all. Perhaps I've been harsh..just a tad. My response to the 'do you like where you live?' question is generally met with a built up frustrated rant of how my suburb is soulless, has zero community spirit, has not enough accessible infrastructure and is full of bogans and hoons. There are constant tyre skid marks on our street and I am woken in the middle of the night most weekends, by the sounds of motorbikes burning rubber along the trail I run along every day.

Plus you can't get a decent coffee anywhere. Anywhere.

Anyway..back to it.

Upon arriving home I realised the little master was still asleep. Not keen to risk waking him, I backed out of our door way and continued walking the pram up our street (much to Buddy dog's disgust and pleas from behind our fence of 'take meeee with youuuu, wooooof!').

Then I saw him.

I had just crossed a road and in his hotted up blue Astra (Astra? Yes..I laughed too) he flew around the roundabout past me, fumes streaming from the exhaust then cornered the street that I had just walked over.

I turned back to shake my head and out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of the car spinning down the street.

Oh my Astra, he has lost control.

I started running back towards the street. Little master still dozing away. I had already started mentally playing out images of me shaking my finger at him and his smashed up car shouting 'that's what happens when you hoooon!!' tusk tusk!

But the car was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he hadn't lost it. But he was flying and I swear I saw that car spinning.

I slowed down my pace and power walked down the street which was actually a court. I found his car at the end of the court parked. But he was gone. Damn it. I didn't know why I was so drawn to finding him. But there I was, rocking my pram, hovering between his car and his front yard. Feeling defeated, I went to walk away.

Then he appeared.

Then I shat my pants and questioned what the hell I was doing.

I don't know this person, he could be anyone. Yet with council workers spraying weeds only a few meters away I felt like I had a security buffer.

He was young, probably mid 20's, fit looking and had a friendly face.

He took one look at me and realised why I was there. He knew very well who I was.

Then the following occurred.

Hoon who drives a hotted up Astra: Smiles, 'G'day, how ya doing?'
AP: Damnit, I'm a sucker for a friendly smile and he seems not bogan like at all. 'Hi there, I'm alright thanks. Was that you before? In that blue car? Did you come around that corner?'
Friendly hoon who drives a hotted up Astra: 'Yeah, just before, yeah down this street?'
AP: 'Yes, in that car did you fly around that corner and the roundabout? I had just walked over that road..'
Coy looking hoon who drives a hotted up Astra: 'But I saw ya..'
AP: 'Yeah I know you saw me and that's great but you were going so fast.'
Repetitive hoon who drives a hotted up Astra: 'But I saw ya..'
AP: 'Please, please just slow down. I ran back because I thought you had lost control. One day you could hurt someone..or you could hurt yourself.'

Then..wait for it...wait, it's a douzy. I said this:

'And...and, well..you seem like a lovely young man and it's just not worth it.'

Hazzah! Lovely young man? What? Apparently overnight I turned 80. Happy Birthday to me!

The lovely young man who drove too quick in a hotted up blue Astra, had his head down. He looked up and then I realised he had blushed. He replied with 'yeah, ok..thanks, sorry.'

He jumped in the white van with his mate and they left. I wondered home with the little master still asleep.

I did it. I told off a hoon and made him blush.

However I don't think I'll be making a habit of approaching guys hooning in high powered cars..or Astra's for that matter.

Ha. Astra. What was he thinking? It's a girls car ya goose!

I will probably continue to shake my head and mutter obscenities under my breath upon hearing those screeching tyres, but fingers crossed there will be one less skid mark on our street this weekend.


Ch 39: Dischevelment – it's the new black

Today in Melbourne is Oaks Day. Or rather more commonly known as Ladies Day at Flemington Racecourse.

Glitz, glamour, heels, colour. 90,000 plus race goers admiring the finest fillies, on and off the course, under Melbourne's glorious spring sunshine.

From picnic rugs on the lawn to the ritzy marquees in the Birdcage, Melbourne women know how to turn heads with style, elegance and every so often a drunken stumble. Not that I've ever done that at the races, I swear...*cough*.

Yet over here, only a mere 15kms from Flemington, in the land of nine month old child and seven year old dog, tales of elegance and beauty are currently few and far between.

Especially today. Ladies Day.

Without providing a minute by minute account of what went down here today (dear husband has already copped that as soon as he arrived home), here are a few words to describe my equivalent of Ladies Day.

  • Morning sleep in the pram out the window, woken by screaming toddler at stupidmarket checkout.
  • Gives smile to mother. Met with a filthy look. Thanks, I was trying to be nice.
  • Home. Little master decides to give favourite plastic toy turtle a kiss hello.
  • End result – a bruised gash under right eye. His first tumble.
  • AP attempts to distract inconsolable little master with an early session of The Wiggles. Wins.
  • Lunchtime sleep brought forward by one and a half hours thanks to screaming toddler in stupidmarket.
  • Lunch meal missed.
  • AP bakes cake for dear husband's work colleagues. I know..I know, I've turned into one of those wives. Shame on me.
  • Lunch meal eventually taken at 1pm after short nap.
  • Little master attempts to eat table on high chair.
  • Little master's nose comes off second best.
  • Tears.
  • AP rubs face, eye starts to twitch.
  • Red nose to accompany black eye.
  • Avocado and cream cheese in AP's hair.
  • Buddy dog munching on left over sandwich fallen on his head.
  • Grizzles continue into mid afternoon.
  • Eye continues to twitch.
  • Hair not looking any better.
  • Walk in pram to settle little master down with the aim of sleep.
  • Little master grizzles entire hour. Does not sleep.
  • AP turns earphones up and up..thongs cutting into feet. Sweat running down chest.
  • Home. Stinky. Discheveled. Both of us.
  • Wiggles on. Who cares. Milk feed. Ugg boots on, comforting sore feet.
  • Covers cake with chocolate frosting. Looks great. Hazzah. Slaps self on back.
  • Starts to get little master's dinner ready. Grizzles and rubbing of eyes coming from lounge room.
  • AP rubs face. Again.
  • Dinner almost finished.
  • Buddy dog walks slowly into kitchen.
  • AP looks. Holds breath. Says out loud 'just let it happen, it's ok'.
  • Buddy dog vomits substantially. It's green. It's lumpy. It's going to be ok. Cake unharmed.
  • Carries Buddy dog outside. He looks sad.
  • Hands and knees, cleans green vomit from tiles.
  • Washes hands for several minutes. Washes hands again. Finishes dinner.
  • Plonks grisly child into high chair. Feeds dinner.
  • Little master attempts to eat table again.
  • AP diverts attention away by playing aeroplane with spoonful of food.
  • Aeroplane crash lands into eyeball.
  • Fail. Tears.
  • Rubs face again.
  • Buddy peering through window.
  • Bath time.
  • Runs bath. Unwraps nappy from nudie rudie little master.
  • Greeted by the biggest, ugliest, meanest poo received in nine months. Introduction of cauliflower blamed and cursed.
  • Bath over. Dressed. Milk feed. Cuddle with Dad, goodnight to Buddy dog, goodnight to turtle, goodnight to the Hawks, bed. Sucking thumb.
  • Out like a light within four minutes.
  • AP notices poo on her forearm. Brilliant.
So there you have it folks. Hello Ladies Day!

Although I finished the day with bad hair, sore feet, tired eyes and a glass of wine in my hand I have a feeling there were plenty more Melbourne lasses doing the exact same thing.

The main difference though (aside from the poo on the arm..I hope) I get to do it all again tomorrow! And quite possibly with some leftover chocolate cake nearby.


Ch 38: When did I become such a...Mum?

The transition to impending motherhood wasn't exactly subtle – think bulging pregnancy belly, car seat fitted with dangly toys hanging from the window, pram parked in the hallway and a wardrobe full of oversized stretchy tops, pants, leggings and under dacks, more commonly referred to as overpriced maternity wear.

Yet since the little master arrived, the visible transition to real motherhood has occurred through actions and words rather than the obvious signs such as a screaming child hanging off my hip and vomit stains on every single piece of clothing.

Recently, dear husband and I went to the best house party we have ever experienced. Think huge marquee, staffed by waiters and waitresses, endless supply of champagne, amazing food, disco ball, fairly lights and fabulous music from the 70's and 80's. Fun fun fun!

The little master was tucked away in bed with a babysitter and was the last thing on my mind as I downed glass of bubbly after glass of bubbly.

A few hours in and after an impromptu dance of the tango with the hostess, dear husband pulled me aside and gave me that 'we should better hit the road' look.

AP: Noooooo! But I'm having SOOO much funnnn. And there's a disco ball!
DH: I know you are but we said we would have left by now...we need to let the babysitter get home.
AP: Oh boo hisss. Gulps remaining bubbly, shovels as many falafels into gob as humanly possible. Stumbles around dear friends saying goodbyes, loved them, missed them, loved them again, loved them even more. You're the best. No you're the best. Blows a kiss goodbye to the disco ball. Burps.

I knew we had to go and we had made the right decision, especially considering I had committed to a fun run the next morning. Yep, you read it right. Fun run hours after my first house party in goodness knows how long. Silly me.

The following day dear husband mentioned how he loved seeing the old AP back in action at the party. The old happy AP, having a few drinks, eating too much, chatting, laughing, telling bad jokes, making an ass of herself on the dance floor and making new friends where ever she goes.

I loved it too. I felt energised, happy and carefree (clearly very carefree considering how many falafels I devoured..not to mention the cheese..).

After wailing to dear husband about how I'm such a boring Mum now that does Mum like things, I pondered on how AP with a baby has now transformed into AP as a Mum.
  1. When greeting friends, replacing the welcoming peck on the cheek with an unexpected raspberry blowing session on friends belly. Followed by giggles from AP and then one very long and awkward moment.
  2. When clothes shopping, pushing tops aside that would show any sign of back fat, flobba dobba arms, stretch marks on hips or even the slightest chance of what was formerly known as a midriff, all whilst muttering obscenities about how the post baby body is all worth it.
  3. Finishing every verbal request from dear husband with 'Pur, Pur, Pleeeeassse?' Then barking on about how good manners is a sign of consideration and care for others / need to set good example now that we have a child / blah blah blah. Thank you.
  4. Celebrating Melbourne Cup Day at a BBQ with friends. Offered wine or beer. No thank you, soft drink for me please. Cries. But did you notice my manners? Impeccable.
  5. Replacing perfume and make up in the handbag with hand sanitizer gel and baby wipes. In fact, replacing handbag entirely with an oversized, bloody ugly nappy bag full of every single piece of baby like crap you can think of. Then times that by ten and lug that around for fun.
  6. From using Lucas' Papaw Ointment balm on my lips as a fabulous moisturiser to using Lucas' Papaw Ointment on everything that looks sore including nipples, lips and red bot bots. Including dear husband's....(sorry!).
  7. Regularly using the words 'bot bots'. Apparently the word 'bottom' is just not cute enough.
  8. Having a spare hour or two free inbetween feeds whilst dear husband looks after the little screamer and as such relishes the opportunity to spend every single moment.....in the stupidmarket. Runs wild down stupidmarket aisles, screaming 'I'm freee, I'm freee!'.
  9. Squealing with disgust at the scheduling of a netball final at the hideous hour of 9.00pm. Because 9.00pm is when I start the housework, you know?
Now I'll be honest, I haven't really greeted my friends with a raspberry. However the temptation has certainly been there and given another champagne or two at this party, it would have been raspberries for everybody! And quite possibly on their bot bot...


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