Thursday, December 13, 2018

Names on bank accounts don't matter. ASK ME HOW I KNOW.

I have a story to tell you. It's been twelve months in the making because it's taken me this long to get over the trauma.

A combination of time and my go to coping mechanism of humour means I can now make bad jokes about it, but I can tell you at the time I was rocking in the corner.

Lemme take you back to December 2017...

via GIPHY

They say buying a house is one of the most stressful life events and I can 100% confirm this.

We had been looking at houses on and off in our preferred high school catchment. Our record was 13 houses in one day, expertly scheduled by MapGuy. We were having a weekend off looking while we did some Christmassy things and checked out Santa's Enchanted Wardrobe. Spoiler: it was Narnia and it was awesome. While we waited for the kids to finish the last of their play, MapGuy was checking his phone and saw a house in the suburb we were eyeing off was having its first home open... if we left now, with a 25 minute drive, we could get there five minutes before it closed.

Lock and load, baby, let's do it.

We got there and raced in. We liked what we saw. It ticked a lot of boxes. Great, quiet street. Close to public transport. A bit of yard. Four bedrooms. Modern (after renovating we didn't want to do it again!). It was 1.5km from the primary school and 1km from the high school we wanted the kids to go to. It was small and didn't have a pool - tick, tick and tick. We don't like giant houses where you might not see each other for days, and we didn't want a pool because of the hassle and expense, but, you know, feel free to invite me to yours.

A few days later after double checking finance we put an offer in and the agent was pretty dismissive of it, thinking it too low (well duh, it's her job to get them the highest price) but rang back that night to say it had been accepted. That was twelve months ago this week.

It was time to get the finance locked down. This is where shit gets cray. Try to keep up.

My parents had sold us our previous house (they had built it in the 1970s and I grew up in it - you should click this for super cute pictures of Bubba Glow) and our loan was through them. We had about $100k left owing to them. They had just sold their investment property and their home was on the market getting ready for their new house that they'd move to in the new year. So they had a chunk of cash sitting in the bank and my Dad offered to loan us $50k to put a deposit on the house, go toward all the fees, and to get us over the line with the bank loan that wouldn't quite cover the cost of this house we wanted. He'd be repaid the full original loan plus the new loan on the sale of our house, which was expected to be (and was) in early Feb.

With me?

So I told my Dad our bank details and he set about transferring a head spinning FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS to us for this super short term loan.

The transfer should have been pretty quick, but the money wasn't showing up no matter how many times I refreshed.

So we double checked the account number.

You guessed it.

I told him the wrong number.

I was out by one digit.

I can honestly say I have never felt such terror.

My mind started to spin, the room grew dark and I fought off fainting. I could feel my body flush with adrenaline. I retched over and over, standing in my kitchen with my Dad as he too was processing that he'd possibly just transferred a shit tonne of money to a stranger.

I fell to the floor and struggled for air. It was all very dramatic and if I'd started beating my chest no one would have been surprised.

Tricky and Bobbin, had come running on hearing the commotion, and asked what was wrong.

I tried so hard to hold it together.

"I've just lost some of Pop's money so I'm a bit upset."

Bobbin ran off somewhere and Tricky rubbed my back reassuringly and said as many comforting things as he could think of as I sat on the ground with a few tears down my running down my cheeks.

Bobbin came back and handed me the 20c she had gotten earlier in the week.

"Here, Mum, you can have this."

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Yep. All the ugly crying you can imagine. I cried so loud I scared them.

My Dad was holding it together, saying it would be OK, but I could see from the tension in his jaw that he was pissed. And rightly so.

It was past 5pm so I couldn't contact the bank. Even the emergency numbers couldn't help me at all. I texted my bestie and let her know what happened, needing to share the burden with someone. She rang me back immediately (possibly our second ever phone conversation since we are text peeps) and all I could do was sob in to her ear. She spoke quickly but calmly, saying that she was going to put her husband on as he's an accountant.

He reassured me the likelihood of the number being an actual account was super low. He told me all the times that people write down the wrong number on a form, or key it in wrong, and it bounces back after a day or two. Even with garbled replies between sobs, he kept repeating how it was so extremely unlikely that it would go through. And it is unlikely. I'm told the way accounts are set up they generally don't have consecutive numbers, so getting the final digit wrong by one like I did, should be cool in most cases.

There was much crying and wailing over how stupid I was, but this is already going to be a huge story so I'll fast forward to the next morning.

At 5am I rang my east coast Bank #1 to find out what I could do from this end. I needed to know if it was a real account or if the money would ping back like it does 99% of the time. For privacy reasons they couldn't tell me anything and much to their credit they listened to me cry about it. On hearing how much money it involved the person on the phone asked me to tell her the number that had been entered accidentally. She typed it in and I'll never forget what she said:

"Privacy laws prevent me from telling you if this is an account... but I'd get Bank #2 to stop payment IMMEDIATELY if I were you."

Cue breakdown in 3, 2, 1...

via GIPHY

I rang Bank #2 (my Dad had been doing the same thing over at his place) to be informed that that I couldn't speak to anyone in the Accidental Idiotic Internet Transfers Department because they had closed for the Christmas break, but would I like them to call me back on the 6th of January?

The most awful noise I've ever heard escaped my lips and I started to violently shake again. The person on the phone tried to reassure me that it was illegal to spend money accidentally put in an account to which I strangled out between sobs "that.... never.... stopped..... anyone..... beforreeeeeeeeee" at which point I successfully became his weirdest phone client ever.

All I could think was that someone would get a nice $50k bonus in their bank account, withdraw it all, spend up big and we'd spend years trying to get it back and end up with a random $2 a week pay back scheme set up by the court.

Every person I spoke to was genuinely trying to help, but no one could. One even called me back later just to check on me. Which OF COURSE meant I cried some more.

At the same time that this was happening, our loan had not yet been approved because most of the staff at Bank #3 (there are four banks in this story) had gone on leave already and it hadn't even been marked as received yet. The days were ticking away and the day to have finance sorted by was zooming toward us. We had an emergency meeting with our broker who advised us to put in a brand new application with Bank #4 because it was obvious that Bank #3 just didn't give a shit at this time of year.

Thank fuck for that because Bank #4 got on it right away and we had pre-approval in hours and full approval in a day... but without that $50k, we wouldn't be able to do anything.

Insanely, my Dad had another $50k in the bank (if you remember from up the top he'd just sold his house and wasn't buying the new one until Feb, so he had a super healthy bank account for a while there) and said he'd transfer it over.

At this point Bank #2 called me and said "the money has gone in!!". Is that not the best customer service? He'd been monitoring the account, probably out of morbid curiosity. At which point I had to explain it was a different $50k and he no doubt went away mumbling about rich people problems.

Because who has $100,000 that they can just transfer around willy nilly? Usually we don't, it was just this random set of circumstances that meant we did.

I spent my birthday in a pit of despair. I was helping ticket sales for a school function and even pay pass transactions made me nervous. If there was a way for it to go wrong, I'd find it! I would over charge people. Or refund people that weren't meant to be. You name it, if it was bad, I was thinking it.

I was responsible for losing more money than I had ever contemplated. And it wasn't even my money to lose. I'd lost my Dad's money. I forced myself to put on a brave face for the most part, and threw myself in to advent activities for the kids.

The next week I had to transfer money to a friend and I had a genuine trauma reaction when putting the numbers in. Nauseated and trembling I quadruple checked, then quadruple checked again, sweating bullets as I hit transfer on a piddly $20. Thankfully this reaction hasn't continued.

Christmas day came and went, and whilst I do think I faked it well, it was always the first thought I had every morning; the last thought every night; and at least half my waking thoughts each day. It consumed me.

Finally, in the second week of January, when were packing up the old house getting ready to move in a few weeks time, I got the call I'd been waiting for. My Dad informed me the money was back in his account.

via GIPHY

If you take anything away from this, I want it to be that you should not try to buy a house at Christmas time; always check the account number at least fourteen times before you give it to someone or hit transfer; and to never, ever, under any circumstances, lend me money.

Thursday, November 29, 2018

I just won the "I'm tired" competition

So much for the year of content, hey?

Not long after being all "yeah, this is gonna be it, I'm actually gonna blog" I took on a few new social media clients. And then I decided I really wanted to make a go of the new side hustle Perth school holiday project. And we moved house, yaddah yaddah yaddah. You know, life.

I was so exhausted by April that I was struggling to keep up with everything. I am so bone achingly exhausted that it is effecting all my day to day interactions and my stress levels. Plus I've fallen asleep driving more times than I care to mention. If it's a 15 minute trip I'm good... any longer and I need toothpicks to prop open my eyelids. All our Albany trips we make? I never drive. MG has always done it solo.

I had all the thyroid and iron tests and asked a few times about sleep studies because I'm a massive chainsaw snorer and have been since forever. Side note: when I travelled to Bali with my bestie, I recommended separate rooms because I snore SO LOUD and she was all "we'll be fine" thinking I was exaggerating... she had to go buy ear plugs the next day and I'm pretty sure she'll never travel with me again. An "I told you so" was forthcoming.

My tiredness was put down to my depression and anxiety. Which is a pretty fair call, to be honest. But I was annoyed that even when pushing so hard with martial arts (my version of "pushing hard" is not necessarily the same for others), and doing all the sleep hygiene, and getting my head sorted with meditation, counselling etc, that I was just getting more and more tired every day.

For years I put it down to Tricky's sleep habits; always coming in to our bed or wanting me in his. The constant disruptions would of course mean constant tiredness. Then we got him sleeping better with the help of paediatric sleep specialist and melatonin... and while he still wakes multiple times a night, he's better at getting himself back to sleep and will only come to snuggle a few times a week now. SO why am I still so tired?

I pushed for a sleep study again. Without any high blood pressure or heart disease, they don't really wanna know you, but I pushed nonetheless, knowing I was likely getting a lil hypochondriac stamp on my file.

Last week I wired myself up for an at home sleep study. If you'd like to feel like a cross between a radio and a bomb, then I'd highly recommend it. Ironically, it's not easy to sleep during a sleep study.


(Look at that half mo, coming along. You can donate to MG's Movember fundraiser here)

Fast forward a week from my sexy wired-for-sound study, today I got the results.

It's normal for everyone to have a few sleep apneas a night, where you stop breathing for at least 10 seconds. Less than five an hour is fine. 6-15 is mild, 16-29 is moderate, and anything over 30 is severe sleep apnea.

I had an average of 51 episodes an hour over all positions, and 60 episodes an hour when laying on my back. Some of them lasting up to 40 seconds each time.

Yep. Once a minute. Knocking my oxygen down to the mid 70% range and making my heart go all over the shop, spiking and plummeting so much the graph looks like a rollercoaster.

I felt like shouting out I TOLD YOU I WAS TIRED!

Instead a few tears sprang to my eyes for three reasons:

1. It's me. I always fucking cry.


2. I had this strange sense of validation; a triumphant "I'm not lazy!" despite having to have more rests and naps than anyone I know.

3. Because it is SO treatable. CPAP and weight loss. And funnily enough, I'm told with CPAP comes weight loss because your body starts working like it never has before. But that remains to be seen cos I really like Malteasers. And chips. And nachos. And icecream. And everything else high in sugar and fat and whatever it is that is evil this month.

My consultant passed me a tissue and said she was blindsided that the results were so extreme. Someone my age and weight/neck circumference would be expected to have a mild sleep apnea at worst. Well hoo-fucking-ray for my soft palate going above and beyond expectations.

I walked out of the appointment with a hired CPAP machine to test out and I start tonight. I wonder if MG will find me as beautiful with a long tube pumping air up nostrils as he did when I had electrodes spot welded to my head?

I'm nervous and not looking forward to the physical side of sleeping with a mask on, but I'm genuinely excited. I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I have no idea how the world will feel in a body that isn't exhausted. This has been me as long as I can remember. Perhaps my chronic pain levels will lessen? I'm apparently getting zero sleep in the repair your cells bit and I'm over here like no shit. Maybe my mood will be become more stable? And global warming will cease and Trump will be impeached? One can only hope.

It's still thought of as an old man's disorder (or a preemie baby disorder - nothing like going for extreme ends of the spectrum), and you know how I feel about stigmas, so I'm sharing it with you even though I'm a bit embarrassed. Got your own apnea story to share? Tell me!

Sunday, August 26, 2018

Letter to Bobbin - five years old

My little Bobbin,

You are FIVE. A whole hand. Wowzers.

It has been quite a year for you, m'dear. You are still the most strong willed, persistent and independent kid I've ever met. Your tenacity challenges me daily, and yet I wouldn't have you any other way.

If there is a something that can be climbed, you're right at the top... and if there is something that shouldn't be climbed, well, you're right at the top then, too. You are most at home hanging, swinging, climbing, and generally being a daredevil. Which came in handy when Tricky left his scooter at school one weekend and you climbed over the fence to get it for us. Your first felony, at only four. Oh dear.


A few months ago you learned to ride your bike without training wheels after begging me for ages to take them off. You'd always leaned over on them quite a bit, so I wondered how you'd go... but I needn't have worried because you just zoomed off. Stopping took a bit of extra practise though. Then when that was mastered twenty minutes later you were off down the ramps, up the kerbs, and pretended to run me over. Such a sweetheart you are.

You have being doing martial arts for a year now, and as of today you can officially join junior white belts... except you joined eight months ago because you found the Ninja Ru class a bit boring and wanted more. So you're an orange belt! The youngest in the class. You zoomed through white and yellow, but you're realising that orange is a bit more hard core and are having to put in more effort. You've been doing shoulder throws and usually once a week I hope you don't use it at school. It will be a great skill to have for the career you STILL want, nearly 18 months after first mentioning it - police officer.

You're in kindy! Hooray! You love it so much and have made some lovely friends. You go five days a fortnight and have been learning letters and spelling small words, and each day you demand we play the alphabet game and that I give you addition and subtraction sums. We are working hard on that Queen Bee streak in you, making sure you don't become Regina George of your school! You are trying so hard, and have a strong sense of justice, but you do not suffer fools gladly. If you are bored with what is being taught or what one of the kids is talking about you show it - but tact is learned, and you'll get there.

You are obsessed with animals. All animals, but especially dogs. Sprocket is your best friend and he knows who to come to for extra cuddles if he needs them. You will make a bee line to anything furry and smother it with affection, the world gentle is said many a time, because you are so full of love for them. Smooching and cuddling whichever poor unsuspecting pet is nearby. You adore bugs and will pick up any creepy crawly you come across after checking it won't hurt you. We have had a play with a friend's Spiny Leaf Insects a few times and you got two for your birthday today! You were SO excited and have got them out of their enclosure to crawl all over you countless times today.


Because of your love for dogs, your birthday party today was a Puppy Pawty, where each guest made a stuffed toy dog - you and stuffed toys, oh boy, you can't get enough. We made collars for pups, weighed and measured them for their birth certificates, and enjoyed a game of Pin The Tail On The Puppy, and Pass The Parcel before delving in to Pup Corn, Pawtato Chips, Pup-eroni Pizza, Hot Dogs, and a bloody amazing Puppy cake (if I do say so myself!). We could only invite a few people (budget!), but you declared it the best birthday party ever and even talked about it in your sleep when I went to tuck you in just now.

You love to make people feel better, and the way you know how to do that is to make them a card. If anyone is upset you RUN to the craft trolley and start feverishly writing a card for them (usually with drawing of you and the person, hearts and the first letter of their name). You even wrote one for Sprocket when he hurt his leg, and laid with him to show him... you cried at the thought of Sprocket being unwell and laid with him, crying big, fat, silent tears on to his fur.

You nudge at boundaries at every opportunity. Never usually a hard push, just a little test nudge, to see what will happen. You're like the Raptor testing the fences! You are so determined, often singing "just keep trying" to yourself when you fail, so I admit to loving it when you nudge those boundaries.

Keep pushing, my pocket rocket, because those boundaries will be glass ceilings one day, and you'll have all the know how and experience to shatter them.

Love Mama x

Thursday, June 7, 2018

WIN Disney on Ice Tickets Perth


Celebrate the legacy of Disney when ‘Disney On Ice celebrates 100 Years of Magic’ at Perth Arena, June 15 - 17

I am giving away 2x 4 A Reserve tickets to the opening night: Friday, June 15 at 7pm at Perth Arena (each x4 tickets being valued at $180 at date of posting comp)

For your chance to be there as Mouse-ster of Ceremonies, Mickey Mouse, leads a parade of beloved characters in this new show, simply:

Head to Facebook and Instagram to enter!

You can purchase tickets to the show through Ticketek: http://premier.ticketek.com.au/shows/show.aspx?sh=DISNEYIC18&v=WPA

For more info on the show visit http://disneyonice.com.au

T&Cs: 
You must be a liker/follower of Where's My Glow to enter.
Name your favourite Disney character
Tag three friends who love Disney!

Winners will be drawn on 13/06/18 at 7pm AWST. Winners must collect their tickets from the box office at Perth Arena prior to the 7pm show on Friday the 15th of June 2018 (photo ID will be required). Applicants must be over 18 to enter.

Tickets cannot be exchanged for other performances or cash/credit.

Monday, June 4, 2018

Letter to Tricky - Eight Years Old

Oh, my sweet, gorgeous, amazing boy, today you are EIGHT!

It has been an up and down year filled with changes for you, and more often than not, you've faced them head on and come out triumphant on the other side.

This time last year you were a yellow belt about to graduate up to orange. Well you hit orange and in the time that followed you were asked to join the elite training squad, the Black Belt Club. All blue belts get invited to BBC, but only a few orange belts, so you were pretty chuffed to be invited early. You adore BBC - they do all sorts of weapons training and fancy kicks. You have a bo, tonfa and sai now. You also have a nerf gun now because I figured my "no guns in the house" rule was pretty hypocritical if I was giving you actual weapons.

You went up through orange, and though not many people reading this today will understand, when you're bigger you'll know what I mean when I say you "double tipped" to earn your final black tip and red tip in one week, meaning you could graduate to blue belt a bit early. Right now you're trying to do the same thing for green belt. I'm not entirely sure you know just how full on green belt will be, but you have it in your head that green is THE BELT to get. For you it signifies that you're more than just a kid mucking around in the dojo; it's a sport that you take seriously.

Twice you have participated in ISKA tournaments now. The first time you were super nervous and we signed you up so that you could get an idea of what these tournaments were like. In my mind I was thinking you wouldn't do that well and it would be a great lesson in failing - I think kids need to learn how to fail, sue me! It pushed you in ways you'd never been pushed. You loved parts of it and hated other parts (sparring), but from three events you came home with three trophies. So much for learning to fail! Three third places haha! And because it was the first time the event has ever been held in WA, you were technically ranked third in the state for your age.

In your next tournament the competition was much more intense; there were more entrants and you were up against higher ranks (even up against a black belt), and because of when you're born in the year you were in the 8-9 category despite only being 7. You practised so much and came up with a freeform kata that you were SO PROUD of. You nailed it and came home with two third place trophies and a second place trophy. Well done, buddy!


At the beginning of the year you changed schools. I was concerned with how you would cope because you are a shy kid, and, well, I'm your mum and I worry. When we first said you'd move schools you looked unsure until I said one of your martial arts besties, H, was going to be there. Then you were all "seeya old school!". A playdate the day before school with some kids in your year helped, but walking in to class to find you knew a few of them from martial arts put you right at ease. Plus with H there waiting to give you a hug, you settled in within the first week.

Not long after that, we moved house. You LOVE the new house because from the very first day there have been kids in the street playing and you have gone out and played with them - I can't image the you of a year ago just going up and talking to random kids but you do now, and I credit your increase in confidence to martial arts. These days it's a daily occurrence for the door bell to ring and someone ask if you can come and play - to the point where when the doorbell rings I ignore it because it is ALWAYS for you.

You get on your bikes and you're off. The sense of freedom and responsibility you get from it is obvious, and it is becoming apparent that you have your Dad's spatial awareness because you look at a map or go somewhere once and know exactly where you are and how to get places. I did lose you once though because you lost track of time!! I drove the streets (the ones you're allowed to ride to your friends' houses) looking for you and finally found you (thank you, kind neighbour, for huggign me while I cried on your doorstep) almost an hour after you were due home. It was an honest mistake though, and you haven't done it again since.


You want to marry one of your martial arts besties, L. The two of you are peas in a pod; you are both sensitive souls who focus hard on the task at hand. You announced proudly that you would get married but at the ceremony there would be no kiss (because EW GROSS). Instead you'll give each other a thigh kick. I love that you're comfortable in yourself and happy to share with us your hopes and dreams, and my aim in life is to make sure that you always feel this way.

We've had some success in getting you to sleep this year, but it is still a bit of a struggle and most nights you're up two or three times. Your brain is so busy it wakes you up. I wonder if after all the things we've done to get you to sleep that maybe you don't need as much sleep as other people?

Thank you for an amazing year, my bud. You have shown such courage and determination, maturity and resilience in all that you have faced (including having a bit of a crazy mum). You continue to amaze me and inspire me to be a better mum.

I love you to Pluto and back (because the moon is close).

Mama x


If you feel like a trip down memory lane, you can read the each Letter to Tricky here.

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