Happy Campers

Sooo, we came, we camped, we conquered.

Except the cheap  double air mattress bit.

That baby beat us fair and square for the second camping trip in a row.

Beat us into a woosy phone call to the in laws to stop by a bit of BCF on the way to visit us and buy us a new bed.

Any bed, a bed that didn't have a slow leak and a dodgy, underhanded contract with our chiro.

We spent our Easter break confirming my suspicion that you can have a cracking, fantastic time less than ninety minutes from home with nothing more than...

as much stuff as you can pack, cram and shove into your largest car.

My other B.O.M. driven theory regarding showers was very nearly disproved with a couple of days of glorious, sweaty sunshine.

Luckily, Easter Sunday came over stormy and brought those showers to allow for guilt free lazing, reading, chocolate scoffing and bogan watching.

Also lucky because without that day of rain-ish weather, (BOM &) I would have been wrong.

Not my favourite thing to be. 

The armory of jumpers, jackets, hoodies and beanies would also have seemed a bit excessive if I couldn't have used at least one of my artillery.

The fabulous caravan park where we stayed was choc full of families, a playground, a jumping pillow, an ice cold pool, kooky bikes and some of our besties yuppying it up in a chalet on the hill.

(Granted, they do have a beautiful little baby boy whose cries sound very much like  "no tent, no tent" in the night).

We neighboured with the obligatory, stereotypical 'cashed up bogans' for entertainment value and a wonderful reminder of just how feral bellowing profanities at your kids really is.

The findings of my in depth study of this social phenomenon will be published at a later date.

The drive up to Ledge Point was painless - maybe it was the euphoria of the little road trip or just Magoo's excitement at having his Daddy there in the flesh after a few weeks of lenten 'Daddy fasting'. 

After some initial land rights issues, the tent went up fairly smoothly and Chateau Du Tent was in full swing.

We even entertained friends with a bit of fine (camp) dining!

Being good little Christians, we denied ourselves red meat on Good Friday.

Instead we subjected ourselves to a measly dinner of prawns, squid and fish.

Our gorgeous godson and fairly gorgeous real son had themselves a ball over the evening and the weekend. They ran in and out of our tent brandishing their torches like trophies and when we plebs visited up the hill, they played 'bunk bed bash' with gusto

An honourable mention goes to my favourite in laws for coming up for the Saturday
(after an unscheduled detour to BCF, thank you),
picnicking with us, being subjected to Magoo's jocks-less, spread eagled form and then being whisked up the dunes to join us for a spot of sandboarding fun.

'Nanna' and 'Dada' rocked it!

On Easter Sunday, the Easter Bunny managed to find our tent and Magoo's bed in amongst all the other grots in the place.

We later hunted for eggs and ran a family boxing session at the park.
You can take the girl out of the gym, but you can't take the gym outta the girl!
I also got to run each morning that we were away which was an Easter treat in itself.

Our second lot of neighbours (after Bogan villia) brought with them a real Easter Bunny, a fantastic little friend for Magoo and great company after sundown.

They also had a camper trailer - of which Hubby and I were becoming connoisseurs, after scouring the park to scope out everyone's set up. We obviously weren't very covert either 'cause we managed to score an invite right into one RV.

It wasn't all fun and games though. Hubby did start himself a little 'fat fire' VERY close to our tent to mix it up a bit and I have myself some ravishing gravel rash from not comprehending what "bail, bail, BAIL!!" means when you're sandboarding.

Hope your Easter break was as refreshing as the park pool and as chilled as my wine.
Shar :-)

Possibility of Showers

We're heading off camping over the Easter break.
Like in the morning.
(As long as Hubby's flight from China is in the loop and does it's thing as planned... a couple of breezy hours before our scheduled 'camping adventure departure time' - because that's how Hubby rolls. :-) )

Anyway, when most women think about camping, ablutions are a consideration.
I usually have a little (ha!) think about the showers.
Will there actually be showers?
Will they be far from our tent?
Will the water temperature be above the air temperature?
Will there be feral beings to contend with between said tent and showers?
Will these feral beings be of the animal or human variety?
Will the showers be relatively clean?
Will the spray resemble a ticklish trickle or a chinese massage?
Will I drink too much wine to find my way back from the showers?
Will my trusty thongs really save me from the array of fungal and bacterial infections on offer?

Well, there's no need to worry about not showering on this camping trip.
My friends at B.O.M. assure me that we'll have showers.
Few showers one day, morning showers on another, showers developing on others.
Thank goodness for that, hey?!

Showers or not, Magoo is more than ready to take the training wheels off his new sleeping bag. Bring it on.

Happy Easter from a very hardworking bunny and his Mummy.

Shar :-)

Overthinkers Anonymous

My name is Shar and I'm an overthinker.
I can't go a day without overthinking.

I giggle when I open Facebook and it innocently asks me "What's on your mind?"

Are you kidding??

We'd be here all day.

I would love to know what it feels like to  -

• go to a 'thing' and not lie awake after hoping that so-and-so wasn't offended when I said such-and-such because I didn't think before I opened my mouth;
• go to sleep without the aid of a book to help me tune out my own irritating, incessant thoughts;
• hear or read a complaint / group email  and not immediately assume it must be directed at me;
• notice a missed call from an unknown number and not wreck my head with the possibilities;
• make a big purchase and not need 101 justifications to convince myself it was reasonable / necessary / worthy;
• not hear from Hubby as promised and barely notice;
• not plan every outing / event / chore in minute detail and just turn up - at an inappropriate time and empty handed even :-0

But then could I live with her?
That carefree, fearless, unaware chick?
(Bet Hubby would love to try!)

Yes, overthinking is dangerous and leads to excessive worry, self criticism, stress, copious lists, pointless preparation for things that never eventuate, ridiculous medical diagnoses...
However, the more I overthink about it, overthinking also equates to thoughtfulness, consideration of others, empathy.
Those qualities that I absolutely treasure in the beautiful people I am lucky enough to have around me.


Apparently, Charlie Chaplin said,
"Go as far as you can see. When you get there you will see further."

I like his advice, I really do. I just think maybe I have super long distance vision?

Of course, the future is clearer as you get closer to it.
Of course I know that there are a million and one variables that will undoubtedly change between now and whenever I am thinking about.
But I can't help it.
No matter how much I think about it.

What do you think?

Shar :-)

Bless you, Batman

P.M.T.   Putridly Miserable Today
P.M.T.   Pass Me The (Chocolate)
P.M.T.   Pushing My Threshold (people)
P.M.T    Pity My Toddler
P.M.T.   Population (of) Morons Time
P.M.T.   Peeved? Me? Totally.
P.M.T.   Probably My Temper
P.M.T.   Patience Missing Today
P.M.T.   Possibly My Tolerance (too)
P.T.M.   Positive Thoughts Mum!

But hey, Batman can always save the day!



Loving myself sick here in the bat cave!



Fear not, Mum. We'll find your happy pants again!

Nope, not under the bed.

Batman won't rest until he turns this day around.

Shar :-)

Happy Pants

How absolutely disgusting, shallow, materialistic and vain is it that a single pair of pants can make you (okay, me) feel absolutely terrific?

So disgusting that I went back and bought a 2nd pair for when I wear these babies into their grave.

They're is nothing particularly fancy pants about em.

They're black.

They're from a cool, young person's shop where I'm sure the perky, model / assistant nearly convulsed at what my stroller and I would be doing for their image.

They're 7/8 pants which means that I'm obviously 1/8 less of a woman than the model they were intended for 'cause they hit my feet just sweetly.

They're, therefore, the only pants I haven't had to take up or ruin with that iron on hemming tape and they can keep their cuff.

They're a size larger than the newborn, model cum retail assistant recommended, but hey she's not the mama pushing this stroller.

When I put these pants on, I could swear I lose a couple of years, a couple of centimetres off each hip and the chip off my shoulder Magoo planted there during playgroup / tantrum town this morning.

And they didn't cost the million bucks they make me feel (even when x by 2).

Happy pants, indeed.

Shar :-)

Football God

If you went down to our park tonight, you were in for a big surprise...

According to Magoo anyway.

He was heard yelling into his make believe microphone :

"Everybodeee - come see the Baby Jesus play football!!!"

??????

Well, he obviously fancies himself as a bit of a junior, junior Gary Ablett.

Which is surprising, as his skills are seriously short of miraculous or heavenly.

In fairness, Magoo was actually the Baby Jesus in my school's nativity a couple of years back.

Some infancy experiences leave a lasting impression, I guess.

In which case, his career in ENT was over before it began then.

Shar :-)

Recipe for Fun

Here's a tried and true recipe from the kitchen of life on a lazy Sunday afternoon.


FUN (serves many)


Ingredients :

1 bride to be

A large quantity of females

2 - 3 'waiters'

Copious champagne

As many themed, identical singlets as there are females

Some finger food

1 large, loud bus

3  fine establishments, full of the general public

Plenty of great tunes

10 team 'challenges'

1 kebab shop

1 humorous taxi driver

Method :

Mix all the ingredients together in a haphazard, loud fashion, ensuring that the champagne is well and truly absorbed. Take ridiculous looking photos at each stage of the mixing process for future reference.

Works beautifully with a sense of humour and a dollop of yee ha!

 

NB : Excessive comsumption may cause a range of allergy type reactions the morning after, but the sweet, sweet flavour of fun is worth it!