Oh, Hi There.

Hello, world. It's been awhile.

I've finally made the conscious decision to come out of hibernation and get back into life. It's actually more of a hassle than it sounds, but surely it's worth it. While in lock-down, I've been missing my friends. I've missed writing and crocheting. I've missed planning, dreaming and scheming.

Ash has settled into a vague routine, Boo is as compliant as a fiery four year old can be, and I'm generally caffeinated enough to function effectively. I think it's time to get out of my metaphorical pajamas, and put on a flowing hippy dress to dance around the campfire of an active and fulfilling life in.

So, bring on playgroup and coffee dates, blogging and projects, crocheting and craft, (...perhaps a tiny bit of study) - and above all, extreme housewifery.
Hey, I need to make what I do sound exciting somehow.

Take care, and I hope to catch up with you sooon!

Introducing: Pacman!

Why, hello there.

So I seemingly fell off the face of the Earth during the last couple of months or so. I had every intention to blog, continue projects and catch up with people. However, being heavily pregnant and therefore one mega moody whale of a woman, I let a lot of things slide - first to go was any interactions with the outside world.

But! We are here now, and there is someone I'd like you to meet.

PACMAN.

Who will be known as "Ash" from now on.

Side note: I don't believe I ever told you why he had the nickname of 'Pacman' in the first place. One night at the dinner table, Boo was interrogating Benji and I over details of how the whole baby thing works. One gem she said was "is it in your tummy floating around and eating all of the foods?" and he has been Pacman ever since.

First of all, let me just say: yes. Child birth really is THAT painful. I don't know how I managed to forget that. Don't let me fool myself into believing otherwise again, internet, no matter how cute my kid is.

Ash is just two weeks old now and we're all adjusting well. This past fortnight has been one incredible, beautiful, emotional blur full of lessons and blessings.  We have had such amazing support through this transition time, and I can't express my appreciation enough. I would just like to take a second to say a very special thank you to my parents for having Boo both before and after Ash came about, and to the lovely people from church who have been so kind and generous to drop meals around. Absolutely blown away by how thoughtful people are.

Boo is doing really well, and enjoys being a big sister (...most of the time). One darling thing she does is sings "Hey Diddle Diddle" when the baby cries. Apparently her voice is magic or something and will soothe him. It worked once. However, the more Ash is around and cries, the tireder and more exasperated the song sounds. She really is beautiful with him though. 

This guy has been amazing. One proud father and an absolute natural. Benji has spent the past two weeks at home with Boo, Ash and I, and honestly, I could not have asked for a more helpful, supportive partner. I could gush on about this guy for hours, but I will just leave it with this: I am so unbelievably lucky, and thankful, to have such a wonderful, loving husband.

As for me: I'm exhausted! However, surviving each day as it comes and finding blessings among the chaos. Being a mother-of-two is time consuming and mentally draining, and I've been a little concerned about how I'm going to manage when Benji returns to work this week. Yet, I do love life at the moment, and am starting to view each day simply as a challenge to get on top of. 

I'm going to leave this here as it is far too early and I am under-caffeinated. I'm hoping to post more often in the future - just in case you were starting to miss photos of crochet items and cake!

Have a beautiful day xx

Woolly Mammoth Lamingtons

So. A week after the first Cake Challenge, I am finally ready to post about it. I had intended to BLOG about it that night (which will be the aim for Cake Challenges in the future) however, Miss Boo came down with a temperature and so the rest of that day was spent cuddling on the couch.
However, we are here now. Better late than never, right?

The Cake Challenge:

LAMINGTONS

Just to recap from my last post: each week I'm choosing a cake from this book to create at home. And where else to start, but from the beginning? The first cake of the chapter: Lamingtons. A real 'Aussie' thing. Also plain and easy and yawn - in my opinion at the time.

I was wrong.

For those unaware of what lamingtons are, essentially they are a sponge cake dipped in chocolate icing and covered in coconut. They are fiddly. They are time consuming. They are something I would usually snort "stuff that" at and bake cookies instead. However, the book said I must make these little coconutty jerks, and so I did. 

For starters, you need half a dozen eggs. That made me a tiny bit concerned that I would wind up creating chocolate coated quiche, but still I continued. They are beaten for what feels like a bazillion years (10 minutes) and then beaten some more while sugar that is gradually added dissolves. Luckily, we have the mixer these days - prior to my wedding (which was catered for by friends and family) I didn't have any form of electric beaters. I would have been incredibly cranky trying to do this by hand.

Then there was the sifting of the flours (cornflour, self raising flour and plain flour). Now, this apparently is a big deal. The flours wanted sifting three times. THREE TIMES. Who has the time or patience for this wankery? However, I continued. 

And then there was the folding. But not too much folding, because a sponge is a precious creature that needs to be light and fluffy. Well. Light and delicate is not my way, and there were lumps and boy did those lumps need to come out.

...which may have been my downfall. 

But hey - my cake mix was so bubbly. LOOK AT ALL THE BUBBLES. I had never made a sponge before so this was super odd to me, but I was impressed. BUBBLES. 

And into the oven it went.

Oh yeah - this was supposed to be my helper. 

And this is me drinking peppermint tea while waiting, and ignoring the massive pile of washing beside me.

The cake seemed to take forever. And I got quite impatient and began to poke it with things to see if it was ready yet. After forty-five minutes or so we had this:

A SPONGE.

Then there was the waiting for it to cool, and the slicing of it into around sixteen pieces. The chocolate icing consisted of three cups of icing sugar (the recipe said four. I said "recipe, ease up. You're a little excessive"), cocoa powder, butter and milk. The pieces of sponge are dipped in the icing mix, and then tossed in desiccated coconut. 

 This I found infuriating. The chocolate icing went everywhere, the coconut went everywhere, the sponge fell off into the icing, the icing mixed in with the coconut and then some of it just ran off the sponge anyway. FIDDLY.

BAM. LAMINGTONS.

I also didn't have desiccated coconut. I had shredded. Which I was like "hey, it'll look more rustic". My husband, however stated that they looked like "woolly mammoth lamingtons" and so the name has stuck. BEHOLD. MY WOOLLY MAMMOTH LAMINGTONS.

For my first attempt, despite my fury, they didn't turn out too bad at all. The sponge was a little dense - I put this down to a) over enthusiastic mixing and b) the wrong size cake tin, therefore thicker sponge and different cooking time to recipe. The shredded coconut didn't hold on as well as desiccated coconut would, however, I kind of liked it. 

Best part of lamingtons - they got even better after a day or two in the cupboard, believe it or not.

So there we have it. My first Cake Challenge was a ragey success. 

NEXT TIME: APPLE CUSTARD TEA CAKE

The Cake Challenge

I was given this cook book by my lovely Mother-In-Law.
I'm not usually one for cook books; to be honest, I generally despise following recipes.

This book is AMAZING.

It actually does have 'absolutely everything'. From meals, to bread, to salad dressing... I am in love with this book. 

Trouble is, I'm finding it hard to find time and energy to broaden my horizons and use this book more in my day-to-day housewife life. Which is a shame. Thanks to this book, I can make PIE. PIE, GUYS.

So, I'm setting myself a challenge to share with you all.

Each week, I'm picking out a cake from this book to try and make. I'm not the best at baking - I'm good at what I'm good at and don't bother with anything too precious - so this should be interesting.

Today's Challenge: Lamingtons.

Wish me luck!

After May

Time for an Operation Nanna update!

On Saturday, a bunch of lovely ladies braved the pouring rain to meet at the Wodonga Plant Farm Cafe. Honestly, I was expecting just my mother and grandmother to rock up - but I was overjoyed to have the table I booked require more chairs!

We spent a little while catching up - introductions were made and discussions were had about potential future venues, how Operation Nanna works and how it may look in the future.

Then the yarn came out. 

I was delighted to watch people being taught how to crochet and check out some of the creations people were working on. I absolutely love seeing people connecting - especially a group who otherwise wouldn't have reason to meet.

So, here is where we are after May:

40 items to donate - including scarves, beanies, blankets and gloves.
+ a much appreciated cash donation.
All going to The Carevan Foundation.

I am seriously impressed!! Thank you to those who have contributed, and those that are a part of the group who are working on warm creations. Thank you to the ladies who attended on Saturday - it was a pleasure to see you there.

Stay tuned for the date of our next meet up - happening late June.

In the meantime - take care of yourselves, stay in touch on our Facebook page, and happy yarn-ing!

(one last thing: it's never too late to join! If you can knit or crochet, or want to learn, get in touch! We have people who can teach and a stash of yarn to share. It's a fantastic opportunity to meet new people, get involved in a community and really contribute to something.)

Operation Nanna: Donation Time!

Hey there Nanna-Enthusiasts!

Finally, I've found some organisational skills, given them a good dusting and set a date for the first donation gathering!

We're going to be at the Wodonga Plant Farm  on Saturday 1st June 2013 from 3:00 P.M. to 4:00 P.M.

Bring along your latest projects, grab a latte and say hello! I can't wait to see how much we have put together to donate to those who need it this cold winter through the Carevan Foundation.

I will also have some yarn with me that was generously donated for those whose stash is looking a little sad.

Until then, happy crafting!

Adulting (Don't Do It)

Once upon a time (read: when I was sixteen), I was so eager to grow up. I wanted to be trusted to make my own decisions, to go where I wanted and do what I wanted without being accountable to anyone. I wanted to get out of my hometown and live on my own. To have a successful career, to travel, to meet new people and try new things and just be whatever I wanted.
The whole idea of being an adult simply oozed freedom.

Well. How wrong was I.

Here I am, seven years later, avoiding all of the things I still have to do today and writing a blog post over a bowl of soup. Boo is having her 'rest time', watching "Despicable Me" so that will give me another forty-five minutes or so of clear (read: child-free) brain time. I have placement things to do, housewife things to do, and project things to do; each time I cross one off my list, another seems to write itself just underneath.

I could, in fact, do nothing. I could drink tea and crochet hats until the cows come home (so to speak. No, husband, I do not mean you). But there are consequences.

See, that is where life gets you. As a youth, you don't really get the idea that one day there will be consequences that actually exist in the real world. Not like 'if you don't clean your room I'm going to do it for you (which means going through your stuff)'. Or 'doing badly in this exam means you'll get a bad score for uni offers (which, despite what we keep telling you, will not in fact ruin the rest of your life)'.

Oh no. In the adult world, there are actual consequences. Like, if you don't pay your rent, you will not have accommodation. Or, if you don't actively work towards getting a career by studying or applying for jobs, you won't actually get one. Or, if you don't do the dishes or the laundry, you and your family will be naked and hungry.

Being an adult is not this carefree, latte-sipping, traveling-pants-wearing, dream-job-having, free-spirit living in a perfect world I'd imagined. No. It's an exhausted, cranky, stretched-too-thin creature who is driven by fear of being naked and hungry.

The moral of this ramble, dear friends, is this: don't start being an adult - because once you do, there is no stopping. Just don't do it.

Failure [a reflection]

I have no problem with learning from mistakes - as someone just out of adolescence, I have a full and thorough understanding of how to avoid making the same one twice.

But failure - that's another story.

Last week I had one of those heart-shattering experiences. One that makes you doubt what you're doing, why you're doing it, and whether you're actually cut out for it. I'm not going to go into the details, but it was for placement and my first real attempt at executing something I had planned on my own.

On paper,my plans looked great. Well thought out and carefully planned.

In practice, I bombed out spectacularly.

Prior to this, I had been living in a safe little cocoon, one where I knew my strengths and weaknesses, my skills and abilities - and never strayed from them. I plan until things all work out beautifully hypothetically, and then I plan some more, just in case. Over the past twelve months I have been doing a lot of personal development in this area, through my study, placements and during the Wodonga City Council's Youth Leadership Program. I had learnt to trust my gut, felt my own ideas had credit, and was just starting to ease myself out of my comfort zone.

On that day last week, I wanted to shut myself away in study and housewife land where it was safe and never, ever venture out again. 

I was mad at myself for putting myself out there, to just fall flat on my face. I was upset that I didn't perform at the standard I had expected myself too. I was anxious at the idea of having to return and try again. I feared all of that hard work I had put in over the past twelve months had been unraveled and wasted. 

It's been almost a week, and I've had a lot of time to reflect. 

I'm actually now thankful for the experience. I have already learnt to tackle this thing I plan from a different angle, and to have contingencies. Sure, I'm beyond anxious about returning again soon, but I'm building resilience by doing so.  

And really, if that's how bad failure (in this context, I'm sure there's a lot worse out there) feels, then hey, I can handle it.

I started thinking about the people I admire and what they have achieved. I'm sure they had many set-backs and I doubt they were perfect on their first day.

Someone at Leadership last year actually said to me "don't be afraid of failure". I'm really thankful for that simple piece of advice, a seed really, that was planted back then.

So this experience has turned into something that symbolises other parts of my life. Time to put myself back out there, I have a lot more to give.

Update: Operation Nanna

First of all, let me clear up one small misunderstanding from the previous post:

When I said I was crocheting blankets and would love people to join me, I didn't specifically mean you had to learn to crochet! If you already know how to knit or have other handy skills and would like to help out - that's fantastic! However, if you would like to challenge yourself in learning something new, by all means go for it! 

Now, the good stuff.

I have been in contact with the lovely people at the Carevan Foundation and they would love to take donations. I asked what other things would be handy for them and they suggested scarves, gloves and beanies. So if you have limited time or yarn - there's a perfect project for you! 

If you're feeling particularly creative, they would also love knitted or sewn bears, bunnies, etc. to go in hampers at Christmas time.

At this point in time I would simply love to be challenged and see how much I can get together by the end of the month. If you're interested in helping out, please have a chat to me. And make sure you check out the Carevan Foundations website and have a look at their good work, particularly their programs.

Have a beautiful day. xx

Hey Mum - I Get It Now

Mother's Day is just around the corner. It's not something that is heavily celebrated in my family; really, being appreciative of your mother is something that should probably be displayed daily.

I started composing a little list in my mind this morning. In the same vein as mothers day, I'd like to dedicate it to my mother.

Stuff That Drives Me Crazy (That I Just Realised My Mother Probably Had To Put Up With Too)

1. Being yelled at from the other end of the house. 
2. Having to share my shower.
3. Being yelled at from the other end of the house on the rare occasion I do get to shower on my own.
4. Planning something you're so sure your child will enjoy, and on that particular day they show no interest in the activity at all.
5. Answering the same question fifty billion times in five minutes.
6. Answering the same question fifty billion times all over again ten minutes later.
7. The child enjoying food prepared one way, but detesting it another. i.e. corn on the cob vs loose. Potatoes cut up to look like chips vs. potato any other way.
8. Having to look after everyone in the house when they're sick. But when I am sick, a) there is no one to look after me and b) I still have to look after everyone else.
9. My child choosing to ask for something to eat every time I go to the bathroom. Seriously kid, I'm trying to pee.
10. Stalling at bed time.
11. Procrastinating in the morning over getting ready, when the child knows that after they get ready, they can have/do something they want.
12. The fact that we are so very particular about how certain things have to be, yet we are incapable of tidying up our playthings.
13. The fact that 99% of my "coffee dates" with friends now end up in a toy department so we can finish our conversation.
14. Being out of routine means the world is close to ending.
15. The fact that I actually spend my spare time thinking these lists up.

So, thanks mum for putting up with this nonsense from my siblings and I. 

I get it now, we really were pains in the butt.

Operation Nanna

[ EXPRESSIONS OF INTEREST. ]

North-East Victoria, how chilly is it lately?! This time of year always makes me a little sad. Not because the days are shorter or it's gloomy out. I find myself shivering on the couch, thinking about those who are out on the streets this time of year. I have blankets and a gas heater I can flick on whenever I want, and yet I still complain about the cold. How silly is that?

A little while ago, when I was trying to give up smoking, my mother taught me to crochet. Lately it's become a bit of an obsession. I'm on something like my fourth blanket. I have no need for any crochet goods right now, and I'm not talented enough to do anything more than create blankets for the time being. So I thought I'd make them purely for the sake of donating to organisations who help those in need. 

Then, I got thinking. I can only crochet so many warm creations myself. How fantastic would it be if more people got together, and we were able to make a decent donation? If ten people gave a blanket, that's ten blankets (or hats. or anything else for that matter). People are funny with giving money away (which is their right), but this is a practical way to give a little. I was thinking to an organisation like Albury Wodonga's Carevan, but I'd be open to suggestions of other local charities.

We could even make a social occasion out of this. I am always up for a latte and a chat. 

I know of a few who are talented with yarn, so let me know if you're interested. I'll still be spending my evenings going 'round in squares making blankets regardless.

Have a splendid evening x

Hello, Reality.

Most of the time, it is all too easy to keep on The Face. You know the one - The Mother Face.
The face that says "Hi, I'm a parent and I handle everything super well and everything is wonderful and I'm amazing at life".

Today is not one of those days.

I woke up this morning with big storm clouds swirling around in my head. I can't remember the last time I got a decent nights sleep - pretty sure I was awake every two hours last night. My house is a disaster zone, I haven't been on top of housework all week. I have a to-do list a mile long, and half the things on that list are half-planned and confusing. I have two assessments to start. I feel like I'm not spending enough time engaging with Boo. I haven't been looking after myself well lately.

Life is starting to spiral out of control and I am struggling to get it together.

I'm stressed, tense, anxious and starting to show my warning signs of a relapse into depression.

I am far from functioning well.

So why am I posting this?

I'm not after sympathy. I'm not even really whinging and moaning about life. And I'm certainly not after any kind of help. In fact, I already have a management plan ready to go.

A lot of the time I feel there is so much pressure on mothers to appear to function perfectly.To be the best mother. The best housekeeper. To work or study or both, and to thrive. To have a social life. To balance it all perfectly. And so that's what we show the world.

Who does all this pressure come from? Good Question. Probably everywhere - other mums, media, etc etc etc. But mostly - I think it comes from ourselves.

No one really wants to admit that they struggle being a parent; apparently it implies that we fail. But that also means that we're carrying a lot of the internal struggle alone. What point is there in that, when the vast majority of us go through the same things?

It's so easy to filter ourselves - both in person and online. I believe in being honest and real with people. It is so important to acknowledge that we have our bad days too. We can't be perfect all of the time. Even half of the time. Or any of the time. And we should support each other to realise that and give ourselves a break.

Today, I suck at life. And that's okay.

My Monster

Four years ago I was given one of the greatest blessings I will ever receive.

I'm not really one for seriously sentimental, over-sharing blogging. But today, I might make an exception. Perhaps it's the pregnancy hormones, but I'm feeling quite moved.

Before Boo came along, life was looking very different. I'm not going to go into huge detail, but long story short: I was a mess. Every day was dictated by mental illness, and I honestly could not say where I was headed.

Of course, there were huge doubts about my coping abilities - and I would never, ever recommend parenting as a form of therapy for young people. 

But from the time I discovered I was pregnant, things started to turn around. Nothing has ever been perfect, and nothing ever will be. But I found life again.

Life wrapped up in this little bundle of crazy.

She is crazy and fiery and full of attitude. 

She's loving and thoughtful and compassionate.

She is cheek and laughter and silly.

She is dancing and colour and mess.

In four years, she has taught me so much. 

Patience. Joy. How to love. The importance of family. Letting go. Enjoying simple things. Laughter. How much I can actually do - how far I can go - if I just try.

Don't get me wrong - she drives me absolutely insane. There is no way we have a perfect mother-daughter relationship (because that doesn't exist).

But despite that, I am so thankful to have this little monster.

She's the spark in my world, that little added colour. 

Life would never have turned out so wonderful without her.

Happy Birthday, Miss Boo.

I love you.

Update: Inspiration - I Has It.

Unfortunately, I didn't share any of it with you. Which is very naughty of me.

To make up for that, here's a little insight into some of the things that inspire me.

My Husband.

Beautiful man. Beautiful Mind. 

Boo.

Little ball of energy, joy, and attitude.

Family.

Passion. Brave. Compassion. Thoughtful. Laughter. Love.

Thought Provoking. Dream.

I currently have three - yes, THREE! - projects I would love to explore.

If you have had much to do with me, you will know that I am quite scatterbrained and all over the place. 

So, please: be patient, stay tuned and watch this space. 

I hope to be sharing my thoughts with you very soon. 

In the mean time - take care, be good to each other, and find a decent coffee. 

Life is beautiful. 

What Am I Doing?

I'm frustrated.

And not the kind of frustrated you can punch out at the gym, or resolve at the bottom of a pile of cookies.

It's the miserable, never-ending, irritating frustration that comes with yet another wave of unsettlement; summed up in the question "what even am I doing?"

I think it all the time. I even say it to my husband, sometimes exchanging the "I" for "we". Which must be baffling for him at the times I don't especially feel like giving him any context.

The obvious answers are obvious. I'm doing my housewifey duty by doing housewifey things. I'm studying. I'm raising Boo and baking another time-consuming creature to love full-time.

Clearly, the question is confusingly rhetorical.

The real answer is: not enough.

I feel like I have lost a little part of me this year, and that I have so much more to give. Last year I had opportunities of leadership and volunteering. I had ideas and projects that I never explored or made a start on. I had passion, motivation, inspiration.

Where did that go?

I decided this year that I would read/watch/look at something that inspired me every day. I slacked off on that after day one. Time to start soul-searching again. Perhaps I will explore this with you here, sharing something each day that inspires me. Just for a week.

So. I would love to hear from you. What inspires you? What's your passion? You're more than welcome to comment and share.

I would usually like to have something meaningful in here to wrap things up with. Something profound or whatever to tie it all together nicely.

 But I have absolutely nothing.

So instead, here's a video of Billie Joe Armstrong with his dog.

'It Takes A Community To Raise A Child'

I haven't exactly got this blogging project rolling, one might argue that I have no idea what I'm doing (and they'd be right). However, there are some things I really can't keep my mouth shut about. Young mums are one of them.

My husband and I enjoy our Saturday morning ritual of reading the local paper over a cappuccino out in the cbd. When we came across this article in "The Border Mail", I practically squealed in delight. Not that it is especially good news, in fact, it's quite an awful experience. But I was pleased that finally, we were talking about some real issues for young parents.

You see, Wodonga has become known as the Teen-Mum Capital since 'Today Tonight' reported the trend in 2011.

Facts are facts, I have no qualm with that. We do indeed have a high number of teenage parents in the region. But what do these reports really do?  Promote a need for Wodonga to have better support services for pregnant teenagers and their families? Encourage people to take a serious look at what may be contributing factors into the rising number of young people engaging in sexual activities?

There is one thing I have observed come out of this 'Teen-Mum Capital' title: stigma.

We all like to believe that we're open minded and accepting of others. And you would think that a community with a large number of young mothers would be accommodating. However, the article from Saturday's The Border Mail paints a very different picture; one where older women and mothers snub young ones, leaving them feeling alienated and alone.

As though that was not bad enough, this morning I opened the paper's website and noticed the comments on the article. And good golly, did my blood start to boil.

One states: " Perhaps the 'other' mothers were older and had made a decent contribution to society before deciding to have children, set themselves up financially to care for their children rather then relying on Government payments forever" ('Mick from Eastern Circus')

Well. There's a broad, presumptuous generalisation if I ever saw one. Still, you hear it often.

Another says: "Why should I have to put up with unwed teenage mothers. It's my time and I choose to spend it with people that have the same ethics, morals and education that I do. And if I want to walk off and not speak to an unwed single teenage mum I will. It's still a free country." ('Cherylp')

Because we can all tell what one's ethics, morals and education are purely from one's circumstances, can't we? Plus, I believe this person has just won Most Prejudiced Rude Person of the Year.

And then there was this: "I'm seeing a bit of this "older women MUST have respect blah blah blah" being demanded, without any reason WHY. other than "it just should, because I'm the same as you" No. You're not. That's the whole point". ('Peaches')

...I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Let me give you a little insight into why I'm so passionate about this issue.

I just turned twenty-three last week. My daughter, Boo, is not far off turning four. Now, if you did your maths correctly, you would have realised that I gave birth to her at the age of nineteen. And yes, that would mean that I fell pregnant at the age of eighteen.
I completed VCE the year before, and had continued on to study Event Management. I discovered I was pregnant after I had broken up with the boy I had been with for two years previously, and we decided not to get back together.
Of course, my parents weren't exactly thrilled. But they were more supportive than you could ever imagine. I continued to study, changing career path into community services. I attempted to return to work, but that didn't suit.

In 2012, I had managed my own household with my daughter for over a year. I completed my Certificate IV of Youth Work (which included 200 hours work placement). I was a participant and graduated from the Wodonga City Council Youth Leadership Program. I got married. I started on my Diploma of Youth Work, which I'm now chipping away at - as well as being a full time housewife and mother, volunteering weekly and expecting the next addition to our family.

I know young mums who are at university. Young mums who work. Young mums who do both. Young mums who choose to stay at home to raise their children. I know young mums who sacrifice their social life, put their careers on hold - just like any other mother. I know amazing young mums.

You can't paint us all with the same brush (and yet, I guarantee you that we have all felt looked down on by others at one point or another).

And you know what? That's not even the point. People come from all different walks of life. People are going to have been raised differently to you, come from different socio-economic backgrounds to you. People have different interests, engage in different activities. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with - what gives you the right to judge someone because they made different life choices to you?

And really, this is what it comes down to: When did you become sexually active? If you, like so many others started experimenting, or even simply entering intimate relationsips while under the age of 25 - it could have been you.

I have made more than my share of mistakes in my adolescence- and I assure you, having my daughter was not one of them.

If you are so opposed to young parents, why not do something? Advocate for better sex education, the availability of health services and contraception to young people. Look at how we as a community can better support our youth - give them somewhere to go, something to do, people to talk to.
Or, better yet, take five minutes to break out of your little bubble to have a chat to one of these young people. You never know, you might even find something in common.

All new parents need support, and young parents are no different. My mother tells me "it takes a community to raise a child", and that is what we should be doing. Collaborating our knowledge and resources as older parents, and people, in the community to support people in need - from all walks of life. How does filling our community with such toxic attitudes come of any good?

The last thing I care to say is this: even if you do still strongly believe that young parents are "wrong", a burden on society or something that offends you so much - nothing prevents you from simply being polite. After all, I thought that's what "older generations" prided themselves on - the fact that they 'have common courtesy'. That's all these young parents are asking. 

Why Disastrous

Disastrous: 1. Causing a lot of damage or harm.
                2. Very unsuccessful.

Now, before we jump to conclusions: no. This blog is not going to be an ever-lasting tirade announcing my short comings and failures. 

Actually, I find the term "disastrous" almost endearing when relating it to my life.

I am constantly attempting to "start over" or, really, tackle life from a different angle. I want to be more organised. More connected to people, form better relationships. I want to be the perfect wife, parent, student, daughter, sister, friend. 
Crazily enough, it never works out.

I finally came to the realisation that I am never, ever going to meet my own expectations of myself. That really, every day is one disastrous attempt after another to reach those unrealistic goals. 

And so, I'm happy to relate myself and my life to being disastrous. Nothing ever really works out as I planned, and that's what makes it wonderful. 

In fact, I'm fairly certain my attempt at blogging itself is going to be disastrous. Doesn't that tie things up nicely.

Attempt #1156

You know those people who constantly claim: "I could NEVER be a housewife! I need something more mentally stimulating to do with my life. I'd die. Seriously" ? Those who believe the idea of simply being a home-maker is tiresome, unbelievably dull - as though you've given up on your own life and have settled for a slow death involving snotty noses and The Wiggles?

I was one of those people.

I never wanted to spend my days reasoning with a miniature rage-monster. To be wiping bottoms and answering numerous ridiculous questions. To continuously maintain a neat and welcoming household,while keeping a husband organised, happy and well fed.
...pass, thank you.

And yet, here I am. In my early twenties. Married. One almost-four-year-old and another on the way. Completely settled down and half wondering how on earth that happened.  

However, that's just the start of it. Oh yes. Just the other day, I was sweeping the kitchen floor and was struck with the most ridiculous realisation of my life: 
I'm a housewife - and I love it.

I love my routine of housework. I love baking and preparing meals for the family. I love Playdoh and tea parties and quietly laughing at the nonsensical statements a toddler makes. I love the husband coming home to us, and spending the evenings together as a family.

I must have lost the plot entirely.

With identifying as a housewife, however, came another realisation: I was quite alone in that. I don't have any married friends my own age, nor do many of them have children. Not that it's a major issue, but from time to time, it feels a little isolating. I've also taken a break from social media recently as well. I found I wasn't enjoying the way I was using Twitter and Facebook, and wanted to make a few tweaks; focus more on life and relationships. As inspiring and uplifting as I've found the time offline, I've also found it isolating all over again.

Which, in a way, is why I'm here. I've been thinking of writing for a long time. So I figured, why not. I don't want to write because I think my life is of any great importance, or because I think I'm incredibly intelligent, or witty, or an amazing writer. And I'm definitely expert on anything in particular.
I simply wish to share, enjoy and connect with others.

So, welcome to my little bubble. 
If you were actually here, I'd make tea.