What's been going on?

How can it be Thursday already? Where have I been? What have I been doing?

I don't have the answers to those and so many other questions, but I can assure you I have been doing things. Boring things like homework granted, but I have squeezed in a little deserved op shopping and vintage collecting with a few new lovelies finding their way home with me. I will introduce you all to some of my new treasures as there are a couple of real gems that I can't wait to show off .

I also squeezed in a delightful Mothers Day which began with not the traditional breakfast in bed, but the less relaxing waking at the crack of freezing dawn for the little fella's football game.

The little Miss and I usually explore and go on muddy adventures in between watching proudly as the boy marks, runs and kicks with all of his might. (And gets good and dirty in the process!)

I was spoilt with a rose, a divine lunch out with my Mum and family,

a beautiful silver bracelet that I can't wait to collect charms for,

and some very sparkly earrings. Bling is always the perfect Mothers Day gift!

Anything else going on? Hmmm, let me think.

Oh, there is the small matter of.........

BEING OFFERED AND ACCEPTING AN AWESOME AND FABULOUS NEW JOB!!!!

Huzzah!

I was lucky enough to be offered a position in  an amazing organisation that cares for disadvantaged elderly people, many of whom have lived hard lives on the streets and battle with mental illnesses.

I am still so sad to bid farewell to my beautiful friends at my current job, but will treasure them forever in my heart and will always have some beautiful (and sometimes funny, sometimes heartbreaking, and sometimes just totally bonkers!) memories.

But I am really, really excited about this new position and all the great challenges the future holds.

I wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all of your incredibly supportive and caring comments on my last post. During a very bleak and dark period you guys provided me with the uplifting rays of light that were your insights and comments and helped me find my way out of that black tunnel of gloom. You all rock! Big time!

Ch..ch..ch..changes (and cliches)

Often when life turns scary and strange, upside down and alien with change, we turn to cliches. We whisper those well worn words to ourselves, mantra's against the fear.

"A change is as good as a holiday"

"When one door closes, another one opens"

"The more things change, the more they stay the same"

Cliches, so oft stated, but still saturated with truth. Full of comfort.

And when the shit hits the fan, cliches can console and offer hope.

For we have all been there haven't we, hunkered down under the weight of the fear, arms wrapped around our heads as the beast of change looms and menaces over us, threatening life as we know it.

But someone wrote one of those cliches, and so they must have survived the shit storm.

I am not exactly sure of what I am trying to say. I have a cyclone of words and emotions whipping about me and yet I can't seem to pin anything down to express myself properly.

I do know that I am sorry for not keeping up with my bloggy buddies and posts but I have felt like I have been at the bottom of a deep black hole and no matter what I did, I just couldn't climb out.

I am leaving my job of over 11 years and I am in such a mess of emotions. One minute petrified, another hopeful. Angry to sadness. Apprehensive to liberated. Flip flop. Flip flop.

When I began my position as Lifestyle Coordinator (surely there never was such a silly job title!), I was a footloose and fancy free single lady, and my job was my entire life. I nurtured it and bestowed it with my attention and gave it all of my love and care. I made it grow and thrive.

I know it sounds crazy, but before my kids, my activity program was my child. The residents I cared for were my family.

My life, over the 11 years, has been intrinsically entwined with the often amazing, always inspiring, (and sometimes grouchy, crotchety, and bitter) people.

I have shared meals with them, laughed with them, grieved with them and for them.

I have helped them and been helped by them. Sat with them on their final journey and welcomed them with open arms as they arrived to join our little community.

I have learnt so much from these peoples experiences and occasionally taught them. (Wonderful professional moment of seeing an 100 year old woman get 3 strikes in a row on Wii bowling!)

These people have loved me and allowed me to love them. They have given me bridal teas and baby showers, and there is a gentleman who never ever forgets my kids birthday with a home made card full of well wishes.

I have embarrassed myself in front of them too many times to count. Dressed as a royal, a flapper, a ballerina, a parrot, Scarlet O'Hara and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I've been French, Dutch, Greek, Italian and almost every nation of the world. Just so I could entertain them and hopefully get some smiles and laughs I would make myself as ridiculous as possible.

I've danced with them, stimulated and challenged them and oh-so-many times been challenged by them.

Even my dogs have been a part of their lives.

We have experienced so much together, and I have bid farewell to so many of these people over the years.

And soon I will be but another person in a picture, because for so many of the dementia riddled residents, they don't even  have the comfort of memory to fall back on.

 And the idea of not being a part of these peoples lives wounds my heart to the core!

But now as I prepare to leave them I must put my faith in another old cliche, "everything happens for a reason", and trust that the universe, in all of its crazy wacky wisdom, has a plan for me and will place me where I should be.

And so this week has seen me sallying forth in my most professional attire (thankfully not a suit! Never a suit!), plastering on my most confident, "I-am-super-and-clever-and-you-would-be-lucky-to-have-me" smiles and trying to ignore the heart palpitations, rivers of perspiration and mouth that felt full of glue and porridge.

And you know what? I didn't have a sudden embolism when the prospective employers bombarded me with tricky questions. The interviewers didn't eat me. I didn't lose the power of speech. I didn't even pee myself.

Yay! Go me!

Who knows what will happen in the future, but after a dark period of tears and sorrow, I appear to have turned the corner on my grief at leaving, and am beginning to feel strangely optimistic at my prospects.

And no matter what, there are more important things in life. Like these guys.

And when life has a hissy fit and turns upside down, these guys are what get me through. 

Got any blacker?

I never used to feel comfortable in bright colours.

 Too conspicuous somehow. Too visible. Too out there.

No, I needed my camouflage of basic black to blend in and be at one with the crowd.

Black was classic, wasn't it? Chic? Slimming?

I used black to cloak my insecurities and hide behind.

But that all changed. I wasn't happy in black anymore. I didn't want to feel drab in my head to toe dark shades. I didn't want to look the same as everyone else. I wanted to look like me.

I suddenly seemed to crave colours. Blooming pinks. Sunny yellows. Passionate purples. Zesty greens. Brightening blues. I wanted zingy, tangy, delectable shades of the rainbow. I wanted outfits in every hue, every pattern.

And now, looking at my rainbow hued wardrobe, I feel satisfied. Happy. Complete.

The colours I wear reflect the mood I am in.

The colours I wear reflect the different aspects of my personality.

The colours I wear are me.

I do still wear black, but only in small doses. A jacket here. Tights there. A cardigan to throw in the mix.

I've found that just a little goes a long way after my years of black overdose.

And that is why I just can't seem to wear this divine wool vintage dress that I found last year. It is so overwhelmingly black! It feels amazing on, and is beautifully made but it is most definitely, indisputably black.

(Isn't it terrible that I have the most gorgeous head piece on and all I can focus on is the big scar on my forehead!I try and tell myself that I look like Harry Potter but sometimes I just don't believe it.)

So I tried to brighten up my black with lots of stunning vintage beaded lovelies.

This newly  thrifted bag was working over time but I still think the black was just too overpowering.

Next time I will try the dress with a bright belt and multi-hued necklace and see if that lifts it.

I think I fared a bit better with this outfit  with the green giving a nice little punch of colour. 

And I have learnt that after a day with more than a dab of black on I need to let loose and don wild and crazy colours and prints the next day so I can feel a little more like me. Colour me happy!

With all of my misgivings about black you can understand my dilemma when I attended the Soundwave music festival in February. This is a  music festival where heavy metal fans mingle with punks and goths and the uniform is black, black and some more black.

Add the issues of comfort, port a loos and drunken festival goers who would not  have any respect for my pretty frocks, and I was in a real pickle. I didn't want to blend in with everyone else, but I didn't want to ruin a vintage dress and limp about in heels either.

So I caved. I wore black. But only some. The purple I added to the outfit managed to get me through the day. 

That and awesome bands. Lots of awesome and loud bands. Oh yeah!

How do you feel about black? Drab or chic?

Happy Easter!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter!

I love Easter. Who wouldn't? An obligation to eat chocolate and other goodies makes it pretty much perfect in my eyes. 

We are not religious people (barbaric heathens is closer to the truth!) but Easter remains a lovely time for family and food.

My children still believe in the Easter bunny, so I continue to struggle with that internal battle of not wanting to lie to them (Of course there is a mutant rabbit that poops out chocolate eggs! Of course there is a fat hairy man that creeps into your room at night! Of course there is an obsessed tiny creature that collects your teeth!), and wanting to foster their imagination, instill a sense of wonder in their world, and generally keep those fairy tales alive. I want them to believe.

With my son now being a wise and worldly eight I'm sure my time to nurture these mythical creatures is coming to an end, but damn it, I'm holding on to them as long as I can!

So we held our annual Easter egg hunt, but die to unforeseen circumstances (feral neighbourhood children, running wild Lord of the Flies style with big sticks and sharp rocks) we held the hunt in a big expanse of open land behind our house, and the kids ran, leaped, skipped, poked, peeked, hopped, peered and romped to their hearts content, filling their bags with so many goodies.

And we discovered the evidence of that sneaky bunny!

Gross I know, but it really did convince the kids.

I followed my tradition of never wearing appropriate hunting clothes. 

Why be practical when you can have a pretty frock on! I found this red 80's dress in the op shop only the day before and thought it would be perfect for my Easter festivities.

And it coped quite well with little chocolate covered hands, stomping through tall grass and gorging on all manner of yummy treats.

Aaahhhh, even more evidence of a great Easter.

How did you spend your Easter?

My birthday boy

My beautiful son, you were born 8 years ago, and whilst I really didn't feel totally prepared (who am I kidding? I still can't believe they let me take you home! I knew nothing of babies! I could kill the hardiest of pot plants, how was I prepared for a baby? Madness!), it was you who taught me how to be a mother.

Sometimes you taught me with 3am wailing. Sometimes you taught me with refusals to ever sleep again. EVER! Sometimes you taught me with projectile vomit and horror filled nappies. Simultaneously.

But mostly you taught me with sleepy cuddles, milky smiles, tiny hands clutching for mine, the nuzzles of a downy head and cooing burbling chatter.

Your love was demanding and challenging in those early days, but oh so rewarding (even though there were many a time when I wanted to place you carefully in your cot, tuck in your blankets, and then run far far away!) and with every happy smile, thoughtful embrace and whispered, "I love you", our love was further cemented and now I wonder how it was that I could have lived without you.

You also taught us how to be a family, a little clan bonded together against whatever life may throw our way. Together we could face anything! Beasts and monsters beware!

Except, it wasn't beasts or monsters that tested our bonds, it was the more mundane and suburban evils like illness, money and time.

And now, instead of my lisping, scabby kneed little boy, is a tall, lanky young man, full of humour, love and crazy ideas. Sensitive, clever and with a life of promise and success ahead.

I am so proud. (And sometimes frustrated. And cranky. But always proud.)

Happy Birthday to my little fella.

The day was filled with cake, Lego, more cake and then a whole lot more Lego.

We are swimming in Lego at the moment. We can't walk anywhere in the house without stepping on one of those little plastic brick buggers. We even went to see the Lego movie because my son is so obsessed with Lego at the moment.

And the celebrations continued with some pals, pizza, arcade games and laser tag. I am pretty sure that is little boy nirvana.

Isn't he a spunk?

And I only had to bribe him a little to have his photo with me!

Getting older.....

I celebrated my birthday on Friday. My 39th birthday.

 My last birthday in my 30's, with 40 chasing close on my tail.

And I am not sure if it is an unconscious desire to retain my youth and vitality, but as I get older, all I want to do to celebrate my birthday is act as immaturely as I possibly can. 

And the older I get, the worse I want to behave!

No staid, polite dinner parties quaffing wine wines and discussing politics and foreign films for me.

I want to channel my inner troubled teen, get pickled, dance on bars, laugh with strangers and enjoy my birthday with great pals listening to great music.

This year was to be no exception, with the gang and I heading to the bright lights of the city to catch a fave old band of mine, The Fratelli's, for some shimmying and shaking, bopping and grooving. It had been perfectly providential that The Fratelli's were playing their one and only Melbourne show on my birthday.

 A show just for me! Thanks guys!

With brilliant gifts like my amazing Dangerfield dress with the beautiful tropical print that I wore on the night (I had been eyeballing it for ages and it just happened to go on sale before my birthday - yay!),

and this awesome, one of a kind barbie ring, combined with a night of fun and frivolity, I don't mind having to get that little bit older.

Yes, when I look in the mirror I see a head speckled with grey and a face with a few more lines around the eyes and mouth. The body I look at is fuller and my mind feels a great deal fuzzier. 

But for each of those lines is a smile or a laugh that created it, each grey hair an experience that shaped the person I am today, and each lump and bulge on my body is a badge of honour from babies and battles fought and won.

I can't say that I will not be a neurotic, blubbering mess when 40 finally catches me, but for now I feel happy, serene and satisfied with my age and the life I have lived to get to this number.

I have a wonderful family and friends to thank for my happiness, but I also have so many of you out there to thank for my age acceptance (nay, age celebration!), because I never knew there were so many unbelievably inspiring, funny, wise and beautiful ladies out there who did not let age dictate how fabulous they could be.

So, to you ladies, I raise my glass full of birthday cheer, and say thank you!

Lady in red and lady luck.

Image from Debra Lynn Mejia's etsy store.

I consider myself to be a lucky person.

I have soooooo much to feel thankful for. I adore my life and know that I am blessed .

But I am not lucky in the respect that I win things.

The best I can boast is a  $14 win at lotto, or a meat tray won at the local pub. I am definitely not one of those naturally fortunate people that have money and prizes raining down on them.

(In my family we call people like that, "tinny" and shake our heads and lift our eyes to the heavens when speaking of those "tinny" ones as if they are some strange other worldly creatures.)

So you can imagine my utter delight when I discovered I had won a giveaway from the gorgeous Jessica at Chronically Vintage (her knowledge on vintage is only surpassed by how truly lovely she is!).

Me? Won! What the?

I was lucky enough to win a beautiful illustration from the very talented Debra Lynn Mejia and chose the "Lady in Red -Lola" water colour knowing that it would have the perfect spot in my daughters room to hang.

Isn't it perfect?

My daughter adores her new picture and I love how the red in the painting plays off the red of the wall.

The illustration is beautifully done and Lola is a vision in her amazing red dress with her rolled hair and cats eye liner.

 A HUGE thank you to both Jessica and Debra for their generosity. 

Maybe I am luckier than I thought. I may just have to go buy another tattslotto ticket right now!