With Giggles Magoo starting school in 2018, I’ve found myself getting ready for the onslaught that school is widely said to be. I feel I’m in a great spot expectation-wise though. We have a number of close friends who had their first-born kidlets start school in 2017, and I’ve been able to watch them, their kids, their family unit to get an understanding about how we will be impacted.

The first major action I wanted to take was The Lunchbox. Daunting topic I know! I’m pretty passionate about the food we eat being as fresh as possible and as un-processed as practical. Also, our family has a big commitment to reducing waste, so I want something that we can use over and over again. I want to have a positive attitude to the lunchbox and probably naively am thinking that if I’m positive, hopefully Giggles Magoo is just as positive to the contents of his lunchbox (long-term). So, with all that in mind I drafted my ideas on how to approach he whole lunchbox thing :

• Giggles Magoo wanted the ‘Bento Box’ style lunchbox…and while I love the theory behind offering a variety, the practicalities of this won’t play out in his first year – being a Crunch n Sip school, there needs to be a separate container for that. Plus, having my genes Giggles Magoo can be incredibly clumsy. I have visions of a beautiful Bento Box being opened at recess and in his excitement/hunger, he knocks it all to the ground, losing it all to the dirt. Needless to say, my instincts (and friends) advised me to stay away from the bento-style until he is a little older.
• The containers/lunchbox needs to be as easy to access as possible. I thought about when I’m Hangry and in a rush to move onto something fun, I need something that is all there, in the one spot and easy to open. Giggles Magoo, being an extension of myself seems to be the same – make it easy to open, and he’ll eat anything. I really wanted him to be feel confident in his ability to access all his foods.
• The containers/lunchbox needs to fit nicely into an esky/freezer bag, so if possible a set is the way to go.
• Giggles Magoo needs to feel connected and in control of his lunchbox, so he needs to be involved with the lunchbox choosing.
• I follow a few great individuals on Social Media who provide fantastic resources and inspriation for what to send in a lunchbox (if I was any great sort of blogger, I’d link them here…but I’m not, so I haven’t 🙂  ), and I’ve consciously been working to incorporate many of them into Grimace and mine work lunches over the last year.

On one of the days we’ve had just the two of us, we wandered on in to a well-known storage store. We looked at each of the containers, lunchboxes, bento boxes and drink bottles for sale. He sat there and tried each one out – he told me what he liked, what he didn’t and seemed quite excited by it all. And then it all went out the window – he spotted a Paw Patrol-branded sandwich box, and the rest was history – he could not be talked round not using this box. Although every ounce of me was against the choice (I mean, really – Paw Patrol?! Worst. Kids. Show. Ever), I had to let him be in control. I was so pleased I’d reflected on what was important in the process of lunchboxing – it meant I was able to step back, assess the container and remember it will probably get broken or lost in the first few weeks of school! It wasn’t going to be the be all and end all of his school lunchboxes. So, I let him choose the containers, and slowly built him the lunchbox he can own.

We sat in the aisles of the store for close on an hour, figuring out how it would all fit together. We had customers stepping over us, reaching around us but Giggles Magoo was not aware of the chaos around us – quite simply, he loved his choices and was so heavily focused on working them all out – Where would the ice pack go? Is there any room for cutlery? Can the thermos flask have yoghurt in it? Where does the sandwich container fit? He was loving the whole ‘school lunch’ idea and was practising opening and closing the containers, packing and unpacking the little esky bag he’d chosen (luckily, NOT a Paw Patrol-themed bag) and making suggestions about what he could take to school to eat.

In hindsight, teaming up with him was a great way to connect with Giggles Magoo around his new school journey and something I know will become a big focus of the family. He has practised eating out of the lunchbox each day since, and I have to admit – I am a little excited at the prospect of all the food discussions we’ll have as a result of his interest in the lunchbox process.

I do also know that all too soon, the lunchbox will become a drag. It will be the painful ‘thing’ we have to do each day – but for now, I’m revelling in the lunchbox love.

 

 

I’ve decided that once the calendar ticks over into December, it is only fair for everyone to gain 12 hours per day, giving us 36 hours to achieve everything we need to.  Along with the longer days, our bodies would have a reduced sleep requirement, plus an increased immunity. I’m going to put it out there (and assume 99.999999999% of the population will agree with me) that it is ridiculous how much there is to do at this time of year, and the only way to get anything done, is to be superhuman. So, we may as well enjoy a little longer before the next calendar day ticks over.

Ha. Tell me to keep on dreaming. Actually, don’t – that would imply I need to sleep more, but sleeping reduces the waking hours in my day. And by reducing the waking hours in my day, I wouldn’t be getting shit done. How’s that for another #firstworldproblem! I’m developing quite a nice ability to laugh at myself, so there’s that I suppose.

Anyway, from the bottom of our Very Moody Hearts, we’re wishing you a very wonderful end to the year and plenty of celebrations with smiles, sun/snow and time to switch off. Here’s to 2018!

Thank you for your support and readership across 2017, it has been a rather lovely blog to write. We’re going offline for a few weeks to take heed of our wishes for you

 

xx

Today, I’ve had a revelation. Today, I’ve begun to realise a key difference between mid-twenties me, and soon to be mid-thirties me. I’ve realised, that my youth was not wasted, and that a lack of sleep does actually hurt. You see, mid-twenties me would adventure, socialise, party it up, see millions of live bands… And then enthusiastically back up the next day with Uni, work and then in my late-twenties, parenting responsibilities. I think I thought I had a super-duper super power that made me immune to sleeping. With both youth and coffee, I COULD DO ANYTHING! 

But, you won’t be surprised to hear, it turns out I fabricated my super-power AND anti-aging properties. You see, last night after work, I met Grimace and a bunch of friends for dinner, drinks and live music. It was the best night out (particularly the best school night) I’ve for a long, long time. 

It was all laid out for an awesome evening… Little Mate and Giggles Magoo were having a sleepover with their Gra and Grumps, we were going to eat some yummy food and then see my favourite live band, The Bronx. In my mind we’d have an awesomely carefree night (we did), then I’d get home and get about 6 hours sleep and wake up ready to take on the day, with sickening zest. Then, I’d grab my usual morning coffee and enthusiastically take on the challenges that the 31st October 2017 threw at me. And I’d win. I’d beat everything, and achieve everything there was to achieve. And it would be ok, my superpowers would get me through.

I hope you’re laughing with me now 😂

After getting home about 1am, having a shower, deciding it was a great time to read social media, then finding some sort of comfort with the ringing in my ears, I fell sleep about 2am. Only to wake up at 3am, then 4am, 5am and 615am, each time startled, convinced I’d overslept.

So, my planned enthusiastic Tuesday morning went more like: 

• Alarm, snooze, alarm, snooze, alarm, snooze, alarm, snooze, ALARM. 
• World slowest makeup application
• Losing of work clothes, about 27 times
• Stumble out to kitchen for breakfast
• Scream out of house to catch train and attempt to catch up sleep on the train (miserably failing that attempt)
• Get my morning coffee earlier than usual (and hate myself for it later in the day when that fix ended)

It wasn’t a terrible day – it all went fairly smoothly, I wasn’t hung over, I wasn’t queasy; I was just freaking tired. And my body physically hurt. No amount of coffee could replace sleep in mid-thirties me. 

And, so I sit here thinking that maybe, just maybe it turns out I’m like every other person. I can’t maintain the energy of a twenty year old. I’m not upset at this thought, rather I’m seeing it as a chance to remember all the awesome things I was lucky enough to experience in my youth… There are so many awesome experiences, and seeing bands live on stage were always a big part of my happy memories. As inevitably happens, life’s priorities are fairly different to 33 year old me than 23 year old me, and as such I don’t get out to see too many bands at the moment. 

But, last night, Grimace and I saw The Bronx, marking 13 years that I’ve been seeing this band live. 13 freaking years! Grimace introduced me to them in 2004, and I’ve not missed an Australian Tour since. Their ability to explore the deep, dark and dirty themes in life, focusing on times when perhaps you’ve pushed the limits too far to find yourself looking into the void, or experiencing the consequences of crossing that threshold. I am drawn to the stories their songs tell. The angst, the disdain for social expectation and the release their ferocious songs play out have seen each of their five albums with an intense energy. 

The high energy, loud and at times anthemic tunes from The Bronx ensures a live performance like no other; each time I see The Bronx, their performance blows me away. And their show at Oxford Art Factory in Sydney was no exception.

Lead man Matt Caughthran is the ultimate showman – His bald head owns not only the stage, but the mosh like only a few others I’ve seen – think The Boss, Dennis Lyxzen from Refused or the lead singer of Fucked Up, (whose name escapes me at this point in time) – not staying still at any point in the performance, whipping the crowd into a frenzied exhale of stupid social norms. Punching out crowd favourites, The Bronx owned everyone in attendance last night. I even allowed myself be told how to behave (eg. Matt commanded everyone in the room to get their arms in the air – usually, I detest being told how to enjoy a show. I always think ” I’ll enjoy the show on my own terms, thank you very much, I don’t need to be told how to display my enthusiasm for the music”!) But, last night I followed his lead and felt myself mirroring his dancing, screaming and sweating.

As I sit here typing this, my train is late home meaning I’ll be late to my running class. I’ve forgotten my socks, so it means I’ll be running without them. My eyes are trying to close and I feel like my life is dishevelled. But, it is all worth it as I realise my youth was not wasted

https://open.spotify.com/track/7hbdKx93i3w9sneunDywzC 

My life is well and truly in the slow lane when all I have to write about is the toilet training of Little Mate. But as I sit here brain storming ideas on topics, I keep coming back to my weekend’s focus. And doesn’t it take all the focus!

While my slow lane is slow, Grimace on the other hand seems to have moved into the exciting Autobahn. You see, over the weekend Grimace headed south to check out the MotoGP race at Phillip Island in Victoria. While I’m stoked for him as it meant: 

(Look at how close he was, and to the starting grid too… It’s always been my favourite part of the race)

I felt a twinge of jealousy – not only was he getting three nights of uninterrupted sleep, no responsibility and some down time, it meant the early stages of Little Mate’s toilet training were all on me. I don’t know what I was all that worried about though… Little Mate has come such a long way in that department, and it’s all because I allowed him the time around home to recognise the sensation and learn what to do. 

If Grimace wasn’t away, I’m entirely positive I would have kept us busy with family or social engagements, limiting his experience to figure it out. Instead, because Grimace WAS away, and Friday was a rainy rainy day, I felt undaunted about staying indoors and close to the flushing loo/cleaning products. Staying close to home worked a treat, and the little guy seems to have figured out the basics for keeping his pants dry. 

He has even got to a point where he doesn’t want a nighttime nappy – his refusal to put one on has seen him go three nights and be (mostly) dry in the morning. He’s fairly grumpy in the morning (or during the night of he wakes) and I assume because he has an extremely full bladder. Watching him move around trying to distract himself from the fact is incredibly fun, and I’ve learnt how to gently guide him towards the bathroom to help that association. 

I forever want to remember the look of excitement/recognition/pride he gets when he makes a squeeze into the toilet. In fact, it’s that look he gives me that keeps bringing me back to blogging about his toilet training… His delicious dimple, his bright eyes and bustling little body are a happy reminder about how young he is. The innocence is completely joyous and I’m so completely pleased to be able to experience it, together with him.

If you have an interest in my approach to help Little Mate get the hang of using the toilet, I’d refer you to this site. It was actually my only reading up on toilet training and while I can’t relate to all the points made, it formed the basis for my approach.

Anyway, happy slow lane me is reporting a steady update on the toilet training aspect. Now I just have to overcome the pang of sadness I get at putting away the cloth nappies. Sob. (mostly as it means a butt-load more washing in the meantime as I stripwash then before bagging them up for storage). 

I should put a little disclaimer into this post though: Slow Lane me wasn’t all that quiet over the weekend though…I did manage the local markets, coffee dates and a picnic with some of my dearest girlfriends overlooking these beauties 😊

You know there are certain things that are going to have to happen in life, despite not wanting some of these things to occur. The ineviatble will eventually happen and you’ll just have to run with it. Well, as the parent of a deliciously-wonderful two year old, I’ve been actively avoiding the internal debates about when to start him with the old toilet training.

You can understand the thoughts of putting it off right? It means my baby is well and truly growing up (avoiding those thoughts!); there’ll be more mess, more time needed to go everywhere/do anything, MORE WASHING…how can there be more I constantly ask myself. Well with all that on-board, I’m just about sure you understand my less-than-enthusiastic response to getting him all TT.

I did have a little revelation though: as Little Mate is in cloth nappies, there may actually be LESS washing. Hear me out, hear me out…Sure, I’ll be folding more and more of his adorable pants, shorts, underwear and socks…but, I won’t be doing the cloth nappy washing. That will be two entire less loads that I’ll have to do (with the exception of night-nappies…I’m not that into the power of positive thinking/sleep deprivation).

It must’ve been this revelation, coupled with some wonderful play times together that convinced me I could do anything… I must’ve been lulled into a false sense of positivity, and I forgot what toilet training actually entails: I <irrationaly> DECIDED IT WAS TIME. It was time for the wet pants, the incessant questioning and interrogating of bowel movements and the prompting of visits to the bathroom to “squeeze, wipe, flush and wash”.

He was very open to the idea at the time, and I felt encouraged. In the last few weeks he has been very interested in reading the few books we have about using the loo…Maybe that was what was lulling me into the idea that it could be a good thing… However, it turns out Little Mate is not really open to the whole ‘learning to use’ concept. Instead, I’m sure he has this strong belief that he is already a pro at the whole thing, and doesn’t actually ever need to use the loo. Refer our constant conversation:

ME: “Little Mate, it’s squeeze-o’clock, want to come with me and we’ll read a story while you sit on the toilet/potty?”
LITTLE MATE, shaking head: “No, I’m pine, I’m pine mummy” (adorably, he gets the F sound mixed up with the P sound).
ME: “Come on mate, both Giggles Magoo and I are going to visit the bathroom, come along too and you can have two stories”.
LITTLE MATE: “No mummy, I’m pine. No queeze.”
<30 seconds later, you know how it goes: wet patches>
LITTLE MATE: “NO MUMMY, don’t touch underdants!!”
ME: “But little mate, they’re wet. Lets get you in a fresh set. Come and choose the ones you want. I have some awesome dinosaur ones or a bright red pair”
LITTLE MATE: “NO!!! My underdants stay on”
(how can I refute that sort of self-determination?)

Anyway, it’s obviously still really, really early days and I could at any point just abandon the whole thing and wait until he is demanding it be done… but, what’s life without a challenge? I’m going to celebrate the fact that despite his overall general disinterest, he was dry after both his weekend day sleeps (let’s not address his refusal to then sit on the loo afterwards). 

Wish me luck – and tips! Send me your boys’ toilet training tips. Despite doing it before with Giggles Magoo (don’t worry, I don’t sport a 5 year old still in nappies), it has thus far been a VERY different experience. Giggles Magoo was sitting on the toilet from around 7 months old, and properly using it from about 20 months old. He was keen as mustard to be able to use the loo and get out of the nappy. It’s a good reminder that they are two vastly different children and have vastly different interests/ways of doing things.

Anyways, I’m on my way home from work to wash a bag-load of wet things, and just add to our internal drying station!

 
 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Well, what a difference the change in season brings. I’m sure it’s not just me either – the days are longer, the weather is far warmer, the attitudes of the general public seem lighter, the flowers are blooming and the baby animals are all cute (even those noisy myna birds).

A month or so ago, I was not enjoying August. I was snappy, impatient, focusing on the wrong things and generally all over the shop. I certainly shed a few tears, but then something wonderful happened… I somehow remembered to re-frame how I was perceiving things. Sure, it wasn’t instantaneous, I’ve had to work each day to keep the re-framing positive, but overall life is pretty bright again.

As September rolled through into October, Theverymoodyhousehold has had some clarity on school and care options for the boys in 2018, which has allowed the planner in me to start looking at how our life will take shape in the new year. I’ve been able to start inserting each of us into any plans we had and find it amazing to see the change in perspective this brings.  

Add to the mix a little self-care, and a happy summer seems imminent. I’ve recommitted to writing each day (either here or in a gratitude journal), I’ve joined a local running program and holiday plans are edging closer and closer.

Now Grimace and I just need to work a little harder on those all important date-nights. That, and Little Mate/Giggles Magoo need to work a little harder on sleeping through the night. I love their squishy little faces, but I’m not so kind at 2am when one of them inevitably runs into our room with tears about the dark. No matter what we do (night light, no night light; bathroom light, living room light, front light, torch, water bottle, cuddly toys, other toys) we just can’t seem to shake their phobia of the dark and quiet. I’ve become far more accepting of the wake ups, and whilst I wouldn’t say completely at peace, I’d say my capacity to deal with them has certainly improved over the 5 ½ years I’ve been parenting. I’ve begun to welcome the cuddles that need to occur to help the soothing process, the stroking of my arm. As Giggles Magoo has aged, he no longer needs me anywhere near as much, and inevitable Little Mate will be the same. One day, right?!

But, I’ve diverged…the weekend is on me (ha yep, I don’t work Fridays) and I’ve got a running session I need to do. Ciao x 

Last week was the kind of week you don’t ever really desire to have. Sure, there were some happy times: dinner for a birthday celebration, we spent a couple of nights away in Manly as a family over the long weekend and I passed my Motorbike P’s test. BUT, there were some less than glamourous moments, that’s for sure. You see, both Grimace and I were struck down with the dreaded gastro bug.

I got caught out apparently bragging about my family’s good bill of health across this winter/spring period… and didn’t I get my comeuppance?! I was talking all about the changes I’ve made with the boys (focus on diet and gut health) and how it must have had a positive impact…that and the fact that our family evacuated Australia at the onset of what is documented as being one of the worst flu seasons in our modern history**. Kombucha and probiotics, I proclaimed, plus an international summer holiday, have turned the family health into something that doesn’t tear through your sick leave.

I’m currently touching all of the woods, but neither Little Mate nor Giggles Magoo picked up the disgusting little germ, and thank goodness for that! It was enough getting through the outbreak for Grimace and I, without having to reason with a 2 or a 5 year old why they should just remain as close as possible to the bathroom.

We’re mostly all recovered, but I tells ya, I do not wish the cramping hell on anyone! It wasn’t all bad I suppose though…this was my view for the first 12 hours of gastro hell:

Hope you’re all off to a good start to the week x

**(I’m sure I read that headline somewhere, but of course reference schmeference. I want to join the league of crazies on the internet that can just claim something and not have to produce any reference or documentation to support the crazy claim)

Life rarely plays out how you (loosely) plan for. I envisaged a light and funny blog, exploring our life – family, adventures, feelings, music, food. Of course, that’s how it started out, but then life’s happenings happened consistently enough to distract me from producing content.

I enjoy writing these little entries, but of late I’ve shied away from writing. Whether it’s been a time factor, content factor, forgetfulness factor, busy factor or whatever; at the end of the day they are blocks for me. I’ve had a lot to write about recently, but perhaps not the concentration to type something out. 

I’m quickly turning this little blog into a promise of doing better, aren’t I? An excuse for why I haven’t been writing, closely followed by a promise at getting better. What is clear to me from these vague statements is that I do want to do it better – now just to find the winning formula to keep me coming back. 

I did have a bit of a personal win this week – I finally got around to printing a Photobook from our July holiday. And, it’s awesome. I’ve been promising myself since the 2nd July that it’s something I really need to do, so I’m publicly celebrating the achievement. Compiling all the moments caught on camera into a pictorial depiction of the trip has all the makings for intense warm and fuzzies, and of course a glass of bubbles to toast the creation! 🥂🍾

It’s the very first photobook I’ve ever made up, and secretly I’m feeling pretty proud of the outcome. I did some research and wanted to use an Australian-based company. I probably paid more, it potentially took longer, but at the end of the day, the result is a fantastic product that I’ll happily show off to anyone who is remotely interested. Maybe avoid me for the rest of the year if you’re not interested…

Now, to get onto the almost-finished blog piece, reviewing the first stop in our trip… Montreal. Maybe stay tuned, but then again, maybe don’t. Who can say? 

Happy dad’s day to you;

Happy dad’s day to you. 
Happy dad’s day dear Grimace, 

We all love you

(Ha, sorry about the lame poetry attempt)

A day late, but only because I was trying to exactly figure out how to write down my thoughts to you, the amazingly inspirational parent you are. You don’t give up, you don’t let your emotive response overwhelm a situation, you know how to bring it back to laughter. I find myself one incredibly lucky parent to have you as a partner in crime, to be raising our little family together. You work hard, you don’t lose sight of the important stuff, and best of all, you do it remembering support each of us.

Definitely Moody Father of the year X . 

Today was not my best day. And what is the point in hosting a blog if I can’t tell you all about it. You all know the kind of day I’m talking about (Ladies, the once a month type where you know your cycle isn’t at the ‘kind’ part). The sort whereby you’re ready for it to re-start, or in fact completely skip when the first round of toast is on the floor, and it’s only 6:15am. The toast hits the floor because it’s not smeared in the right kind of whatever, and then the tantrum or whining that follows seems to last all day.

Well, that was me today. Just thought I’d embrace it wholly and feel some uncontrollable/all-consuming personal rage, whereby some slamming doors or a slightly-too-high rev before changing gears when driving might convey to any of my three family members how I’m feeling and what they can do to fix their part of the problem. It’s not too much to ask, I mean really. Sigh.

Ha.

Anyways, we did get a little family outing today – walked about 500m of the Elizabeth’s and Margaret’s Lookout walk (Lovers Walk I believe it is also known). In normal circumstances, we would have gone further however the fact that doing this small little section took us the best part of an hour, well I’m sure you will excuse our decision to call the walk quits. Giggles Magoo experienced a first hand lesson around how bicycle tyres don’t quite work the same way when in sand and Little Mate was quite frankly still upset and squawking about his toast from the morning (it was 5pm by this stage). At least we were surrounded by the beautiful bushland and I somehow reminded myself that tomorrow will be a new day, far from the bickering/shouting/crying/hitting mess that today turned out to be.

And whoever told you I wasn’t an optimist (I may also be at work for a ridiculously long day tomorrow, missing all but the breakfast/wake-up blues).