The Ferry Ride

Holidays are the best, don't you think?! We recently returned from a week at Streaky Bay (a coastal town on the western side of the Eyre Peninsula, in South Australia). It's about an eight hour drive from Adelaide, but with three children in the car it felt like about four days. The threat of a visit to the shark cage did wonders to keep the peace though.

On the way there, we thought it would be fun to break up the trip with a ferry ride. The kids loved it for the first hour. It wasn't as relaxing for my husband and I. In this photo I believe Twiggy is screaming: "Get me the fuck out of here".

And then there was the "dark hour". First, Miss E muttered: "I need to go to the toilet". I rushed her to the other end of the ferry and as we stepped through the toilet door she projectile vomited everywhere. I cleaned it, and her, up and sat her in a seat by herself while I ran back to collect the rest of the family. There, I found Brett cupping handfuls of Miss H's vomit. At this stage I started laughing, while quietly willing our entire family to be sucked up into the time machine vortex. We didn't. Let's just say the following the six hour drive to our destination, smelling a vague waft of vomit, was bliss compared to the last hour on that ferrry.


When we arrived at our caravan park, we celebrated by sampling some of the local cuisine.

I can honestly say I will never be stupid enough to order food from a caravan park again. To be fair, we also ate some of the most amazing seafood at a local farmer's market and the bakery was fabulous.


It was all worth it for this moment.
 
After an amazing holiday in one of the most stunning places in Australia we opted to drive the entire way home. No more ferries for us. We even stopped to take a holiday snap out of the car window from the Port Augusta petrol station.

And we couldn't pass up a photo at Kimba's Big Galah. The last time we were there we had no children. Man, how holiday's have changed.

Have you taken a holiday lately? Have you got a horror holiday story? Where's your favourite holiday destination?

I'd love to hear your story,
bigwords x

The First Day

Today my eldest girl started school. I did not cry. I didn't even feel remotely sad. In fact, I didn't really feel anything at all, except for relief. Relief that we got her to school on time.

The whole of our little family went with her this morning, in the pouring rain. My husband and I and the two younger girls looked a little ruffled, she looked all sparkly in her brand new school dress and jumper; her logo gleamed proudly on her chest, her schoolbag hitched over my shoulder. As is all her clothing, her school bag is way too big for her. As my Mum commented: "I hope she grows into her bag soon." She will.

School is just another step in her journey of life. It's a natural progression. It wasn't a surprise, nor did it creep up on me. I am unsure why I should be overwhelmed by it. I've keenly listened to other parents telling their stories of weeping at the door or sitting in their car after the drop-off and crying. I get it.

I kept waiting for the surge of emotions. Nothing. I was happy for her. She is ready. She needs it. It's her time to shine. I am excited about the adventure she is embarking on. Soon, she will learn to read and write and for me I see the limitless world of words opening up before her. Her imagination will no longer be held back - it will have free reign. She will be liberated. It thrills me.

When Miss L was born I also didn't cry. Nothing. I looked at her. I marvelled at her. I didn't really know what I was meant to do with her. I'd seen the movies. I knew I was meant to be heaving with joy and tears were meant to be flowing from my new mother eyes. Instead, I stroked her face. I drank her in. I breathed her smell. She smelt like me. I closed my eyes and wished for a long life, full of love. I wrapped her up and placed her in her cot beside my bed and stared at her. To be honest, I was more scared than anything.

A couple of nights later, when I had a rare moment of quiet in my hospital room by myself, I looked down at her sleeping face and I held her delicate hand. Tears rolled down by face. The enormity of her presence and my new role had sunk in. I was a Mum. She was my child. I felt love well up inside me I'd never experienced before. I felt the weight of responsibility. I imagined white light beaming from my heart surrounding her on her journey. I knew right then if anything bad ever happened to her that the world would be forever grey. I thought of all the milestones to come.

Today was one of those milestones and while I did not cry I knew it would be forever etched in my memory. Seeing her sit there, in her oversized dress, on the rug in front of her teacher, embarking on her first of many independent adventures. I was proud of her. I was excited for her, but I wasn't sad.

Did you cry on the first day of school? What about when your baby was born? Do you ever feel you are meant to be feeling something, but don't?

I'd love to hear your stories.
bigwords x

The Return

So, I took myself, and my family away for a week to the glorious, sleepy seaside town of Streaky Bay. My husband, Twiggy from Archie Five Photography, was taking the photographs at a gorgeous wedding and we tagged along to get in some much needed family time.

You know, it's not until you strip away the day-to-day that you can truly unwind. It gave me the time to breath. I so desperately needed quiet time, after what's been a crazy few months. My exhaustion peaked at the Digital Parents Conference which I found quite overwhelming. I really enjoyed the one-on-one times with friends, but the actual conference was just too much for me this year. I had been working so darn hard that when confronted with a room full of overly excited people all jostling for someone's attention it was just too much. I ended up spending a majority of the night sitting in a toilet cubicle crying. Exhaustion had taken the better of me.

You know how "they" talk about work/life balance, well I have had no balance. I knew as I sat in the loo with mascara running down my cheeks that something had to give. I cut back on my work commitments. I stopped blogging for a short time, I turned off Twitter and Facebook and I got my groove back.

I also wanted time to look at bigwords with fresh eyes. I've been blogging along quite nicely, but feel I need a bit more direction. I've stagnated. It's time to shift a gear.

I want to turn this space into a place for my children to use a reference about their own childhood, about my husband and I, but also a place to hear stories about being parents which they may not hear in the mainstream world around them. There's plenty of places to source the good side of parenting, the tips and tricks, but I want bigwords to be a place parents can share their dark times, their funny times and also revisit their own dreams - the dreams they had before children came into their lives.

I am going to try a few things over coming months and am always up for suggestion for what you'd like to read or what you'd like to contribute to this page. I'd also love some guest posts on different topics, so send me an email or FB message or DM if you're interested.

bigwords - words for when my kids are big. I hope you'll stick with me on this journey. xx

The Little Fish

Feeling like a little fish in a big blogging sea. So, I'm taking a break to reassess, rethink and refresh.

Thanks for your patience
bigwords xx

The Easter Egg

This Easter Egg will now be eaten.

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!!

Wishing you all a safe, happy, chocolate-filled family celebration.

bigwords xx

The Back Massage

I think it's always good to pass on things you learn to others. This week I learnt three things.

Firstly, a plushophile is someone who has sexual urges for stuffed toys. Who knew??!!

Secondly, to alleviate "c*&# pong" you must always dry yourself "down there" very vigilantly. Mrs Woog taught me that.

And thirdly, ALWAYS get the promised back massaged BEFORE putting out.

That's it.

Can you add anything to the list?

Thanks,
bigwords xx

(Ps: Twiggy - you owe me a back massage)

The Mummy Blogger

ATTENTION BUSINESSES AND PR COMPANIES:

I am a "Mummy Blogger". Well, actually I prefer to call myself a blogger. I am a Mum who blogs, but I reserve the word mummy for my kids as I find other people calling me that a little creepy. And anyway I don't just blog about my kids, I sometimes blog about my husband, boobs, my belly and any other topic which pops randomly into my head after a bottle of wine.

I blog about a lot of different topics. I live an interesting, eclectic life. I work, I socialise, I clean, I mother, I watch tv, I know about politics and business and shit. I DID NOT HAVE A LOBOTOMY.

See the picture above of the skinny, hot woman standing beside her abnormally large, sparkling clean oven - that is not me. So, why oh why do women who blog automatically get categorised as women who live to clean their house, buy their husband's polo neck shirts, talk only about their children incessantly, get excited about picking the perfect My Family sticker for their station wagon and whose idea of fun is scurrying around the supermarket searching out the latest healthy snack options for the whole family. You know, give a mum who blogs a block of chocolate and the latest Parenting magazine and she'll be so excited she might even give her husband a blowie to celebrate. WRONG. We all know blowies are strictly for Christmas and birthdays.

Here's the thing, on the weekend I went to a national blogging conference, the Digital Parent's conference. There were stands there promoting their products and everyone got a goodie bag. The companies which chose to get involved were very clever because us women we like to buy stuff. The only thing that troubled me is that it was pretty clear the only companies who truly knew the value of this emerging force in communication - bloggers - were cleaning companies and other products deemed "motherly".  I shit you not, there was even a three-part instructional video on how to clean. I cleaned that straight into bin, without even having to watch it.

I am not having a go at those businesses, there's definitely a place for those products. They're the smart businesses. They've recognised the reach of bloggers and are harnessing it. There's just so many that are not. They are lagging behind eating homemade pie and drinking Milo with their patronising stereotypes.

C'mon businesses out there get with the program - women are no longer stuck in the 1950s model of being the perfect housewife. We are a varied bunch. Parents are a varied bunch. You know there were actually men at this conference too (insert sarcasm here). And there were women who work in high-powered industries, women who like adventure sports, women who read books (other than just ones with pictures in them), women who drink vodka, women who craft, women who travel, women who do not know how to cook and women who hire cleaners. You know there are women who clean a lot - I'm one of them, but I also like sitting on the couch in my knickers, drinking gin and tonics while watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, while flicking to the Sky News Business Channel in the ad breaks. Businesses with their gingham blinkers on are missing out on some very viable business propositions. Us bloggers are a loud bunch, we talk, we communicate directly with consumers and we are business savvy. It's about time businesses start taking notice.

Community Service Announcement over.

Thanks,
bigwords x