The hot lap that was meant to be

This is a S2 post as I got invited to an event.
There was no obligation to blog the event or the prize.

For full details please see my disclosure policy

It seems forever ago now, what with the whole me being hospitalized and then BOTH my kids being hospitalized, but I recently got the opportunity to go to a Meet the V8 Drivers event at Volvo Cannington.

Map Guy and I are big V8 fans. He more so than me; he can tell you all the drivers' names and stats, and which bits of the engine does what, but my knowledge is not quite as robust. I love fast cars that make a lot of noise and can tell you where the steering wheel is. I pick a team based on the colour or car number.

We were so excited to attend, and a little nervous if I'm honest - I was the only parent blogger there, the others were fashion bloggers and they were all looking fabulous and fancy, while I'm there in my Coles jeans. MG assured me I wasn't under dressed

On the invite it mentioned that a V8 hotlap around Barbagallo Raceway would be drawn as a prize on the night, so first thing we did was put our entries in. I drew a little Volvo symbol on mine just in case whoever drew it saw it and went "OH LOOK, EXTRA EFFORT! Ima choose this one" (they didn't). I told my friend I was going to win it because it's the #33yearofme.

The Volvo drivers, Scott McLaughlin and David Wall, were there so MG waltzed up and schmoozed them.  They seemed happy to talk to someone who knew cars and the Barbagallo track. MG was in heaven. I discovered that Scott McLaughlin drove car 33 and told him it was my favourite number so he was now "my driver". Which I'm sure did not freak him out at all.

Toward the end of the night (after I'd been told I'd get a loan of a Volvo soon - OMG! It's this week!) they interviewed the guys - they said Perth drivers suck at merging and they were not wrong - and then it was on to the draw. Third prize, second prize, and now, the first prize. The emcee swished her hand around and randomly pulled out an entry... IT HAD A VOLVO LOGO DRAWN ON IT!

Booyah!!!

I got talking again to the drivers and mentioned that I'd done a hot lap before and felt really sick from the smell of petrol and the G forces. Quick as a flash, David pipes up "Well, lucky your favourite number is 33, because you can ride with Scott!". Scott did really well to hide his distress. Ha!

"I'll try not to vomit in your car" I said. He smiled. Poor guy.

On the day, I felt like crap. I was having so much trouble breathing and I'd go on to end up in hospital the next day, but there was no way I was missing this. I went with my Dad and watched as the other people took their laps.

I got chatting to the woman next to me and managed to make a bit of ass of myself:

"Such an awesome prize. I had a feeling I'd win this, how cool that we all get to go in a real race car!
"I didn't win mine. I paid $100,000"

Cue awkward moment.

"Oh, do you sponsor the team?"
"No, I bought a high end Volvo."

Then it was my go.

I suited up. Being on pit lane, this close to the cars and feeling that rumble, I was really grateful that the suits were dark just in case I crapped my pants.

The "oh shit" smile began around here

I turned myself in to a pretzel to get in to car 33 with Scott. A real V8 Supercar with a real racing driver. Duuuuuude.

"You're not going to spew in my car, are you?" he said.

Smiling so big in a helmet gave me chipmunk cheeks

I couldn't believe he remembered me. We figured out a signal to stop if I was going to be sick, but told him the faster the better. Some people were doing single laps and some were doing double, based on how well they were handling it. As we were rounding the last corner he asked if I was good to go again and we roared down the straight at over 300km/h. I was shoved so far back in to the seat that I could feel my face flatten out. It was AMAZING!!!!

Thumbs up for not spewing!

I smiled the whole time. A weird mouth open, holy shit I can't move my body but this is awesome smile. I also did a thumbs up sign most of the way around for some reason - I'd done it early on to say I was OK and I think I was paralyzed in awe and just couldn't move.

It was so much fun and Scott was so lovely. The whole thing was recorded and I had no idea... good thing I didn't chunder all over the place!


Car 33 in the #33yearofme. It was meant to be.

I'm not hipster enough for the Fringe World Festival

I was super lucky to swing some free tickets to opening night of Best of the Edinburgh Fest at the Fringe World Festival last night. Map Guy and I left the kiddies with baby sitter extraordinaire, Aunty Penny, on a school night and headed in to Northbridge to check it out.

It was a beautiful but muggy night and it gave us a chance for quality, one on one time without the constant interruption of kids. So we used the time wisely and argued about where to park and which direction to take. We arrived a few minutes (fashionably) late to the Tent of the Unpronounceable Name, trod on some toes to get to our seats and settled in for the show.

First up was Chris Martin. No, not of Coldplay fame, a comedian - though, naming your kid Apple is pretty funny. Do you know how hard it is to sulk at a comedy show? It's almost impossible. I was trying to be all cranky pants but Chris made me belly laugh in a matter of minutes. 

Up next was the very shouty Canadian, John Hastings. He was my fave. My face was hurting from laughing so much as he seamlessly covered everything from thongs to religion to asshole French waiters. His banter and dark sense of humour won me over. 

Closing the show was Carl Donnelly. He didn't really do it for me. He told one really long story in which he kept swapping between whether it was his story or his mate's, and had no punchline at the end. The lack of punchline was the punchline and I'm all "No. That ain't no punchline, dude, bring back the Canadian guy".

It was a great show, for a good two thirds of it at least (others were laughing at the third guy, so must have just been my sense of humour?) and I'd easily recommend it to people who like observational humour but don't want to pay a fortune. Tickets on sale here for around $25 if you're interested.

Afterwards, we cruised The Pleasure Garden (aka Russell Square in drag), drank Mojitos, took pictures of fantastically quirky things like the outdoor library and came to the realization that we are not hipster enough for Fringe. 

Even MG's impressive beard and thick glasses couldn't stand up to the flannel clad, spacer-eared, skinny jeaned, tattooed folk with no concept of bed time. 

Walking back to the car at a 8:45pm because it was almost bed time, a gorgeous young woman handed us a brochure for more shows:

"I'd absolutely recommend the show starting at 10pm and the one at 11pm is..."

"OH, sweetheart! I'll be asleep by then!" I blurted out. 

She looked confused at my interruption. Was it because I called her sweetheart? I don't think I've ever called someone I didn't know sweetheart before. Or maybe I had been giving off the aura of Hipster? Perhaps the pink hair threw her? 

"Maybe if we can get a babysitter another night" MG chimed in.

She understood. She gave us the sweet, pitying look that youngens give to the older folk. I know it because I've given that same look before. The look that said "ugh children, whyyyyyyy?". 

So I might not be hipster enough for Fringe World, but I've got pink hair and my kids think I'm fucking awesome. That'll do me just fine. 

Are you a Fringe fan?

33: The year of ME

I have a love hate relationship with the number three.

I bet you didn't even know you could have a love hate relationship with a number, but you totally can.

Three is my favourite number. I pick it, and variations of it, whenever I have to choose a number. 333 would be the ultimate, but any number with a 3 in it is preferable over one without. If I'm in a pinch (ie. some bastard has taken all the tickets with a 3) then I'll pick 9 because MATHS. Hell, even my name kinda sounds like three in Italian.

But at times I loathe the number three because whenever I get anxious (usually on days that end in Y), my self soothing routine is to count in very specific patterns of three, usually by moving my fingers. Ohai, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It's pretty discreet, most people don't notice and those that do just think I'm fidgety or maybe have an itch. 

1

12

123

123

12

1

123

12

1

1

12

123

123

12

1

1

12

123

1

12

123

123

12

1

That's my pattern. Over and over and over and over and over and over again. Typing it out makes it seem bizarre, and it is, really. 

I'm about to turn 33. Because two threes are better than one, I figure it's a good time to focus on myself in this year of the fave digits. I'd wait until I grabbed the trifecta 333, but alas, I don't think I'll last that long. 

So, the next twelve months I'm going to focus on me, or more specifically, my health and my goals. Why am I telling you this? Well, I have zero willpower and am highly distractable (oooh look, something shiny) so I'm hoping that having this here will give me a sense of accountability. I can let myself down over and over again but no one knows; if I put it out there publicly and say this is what I'm going to do, and then I don't? Well, I'd feel like a bit of a dick. Hooray for internet shame.  

My goals for the next twelve months:

Become more organized and procrastinate less - yeah, starting off with some that aren't really quantifiable, but meh. It could be summarized by: get off Facebook and DO SHIT!

Exercise three times a week - the shitty thing about chronic pain is that it makes it hard to exercise because PAIN. Yet exercise is meant to be the bestest thing ever to decrease the pain so I just gotta stop making excuses. I'm not talking about pushing through the pain to a point where I end up immobile, just consistent gentle exercise. Oh god I sound old. 

Focus on health - mental and physical. My pap smear was due last month and I still haven't made the appointment; I've been wanting to get advice on changing medications for aaaages and I still haven't made the appointment. It's the same story over and over again because it just hasn't been a priority. That has to change. That will change.

Don't eat in secret - I am a huge binge eater and it is the reason I have put on so much weight in the last year. It is totally embarrassing to admit, but I go through drive through and gorge myself if I'm alone. This year with Tricky at school and Bobbin being asleep half the time we're in the car it became so much more frequent. Tricky will be at school full time next year and the rhythmic rocking can still lull Bobbin to sleep sometimes so it will be hard, but it has to stop. Both my health and my wallet are suffering from this one. 

Blog more - I have taken the "slow blogger" approach out of necessity the past twelve months, but I want to get back to it. Consciously pulling back was what was needed at the time, and it's almost like it is a habit now to not blog whereas before I would think "I'm blogging the shit out of this" whenever I did anything. I'm out of practice!

Volunteer - I used to volunteer for Look Good, Feel Better but I stopped when Tricky was born. I loved doing it. It is such an everybody wins situation. It's hard to organize babysitting for little ones, but now that Bobbin can go for hours between breastfeeds, it will be easier to have her looked after by someone else. 

I'm sure there are more things. But I got distracted by making a crappy button. See? Procrastination Queen.

I won't wait until my birthday to kick this off, because why delay? 

How do you make yourself accountable?

What is red, has a booty and is really rich?

I could sing the National Anthem at age three. It is my claim to non-fame. It was recorded on cassette tape for posterity (and the purposes of showing off, obviously) and now no one can actually play the bastard because none of us have cassette players any more. So you're just going to have to believe that I was super talented once and then wonder what happened because I haven't been asked to sing at the AFL Grand Final. I could totally sing better than Meat Loaf. But I digress.

The other day I looked at the calendar and realized that I'm going to blink and The Trickster will be four. FOUR! Now the first thing others might do on recognizing that a birthday is looming is decide on a cake theme. Not this chick. For me, it was time to teach Tricks that Australian's all love Ostriches or something...



Booty, rich and red? Love it! Close enough, Tricks, close enough.

What awesome thing could you do as a kid?

The wrap up post that isn't a wrap up post

I feel the urge to write a wrap up post. One that notes any achievements, the highs, the lows, the ins and outs. But the motivation wanes almost as soon as my laptop boots up. And it is a quick boot.

I'm struggling to put pen to paper and fingers to keys right now and as a result my head is swirling with thoughts that need to be purged. They're keeping me up at night and distracted during the day.

It feels like I can't even have a conversation anymore because I forget what I'm saying as all the thoughts wrestle amongst themselves vying for attention.

None of these acrobatic thoughts are profound, or even mildly important. They are as mundane as they come: sweep the floor, make some muffins, don't forget the appointment on Tuesday, visit the grandparents, pick up milk on the way home, write a blog post. If they were life changing thoughts I might feel less annoyed that they're keeping me from doing anything.

I know this is part of feeling a bit low, so I know it will end soon as my mood continues to lift and I return to a sense of normalcy. But right now, right in the middle of it, I'm exhausted. Bone tired.

I started wearing a fitness tracker that I got for my birthday and it also tracks sleep patterns. After seeing the results, it is no wonder I'm so tired. An average night for me is 5.5 hours sleep, awake 4 times, restless 19 times.

So there will be no wrap up (please, we all know it would centre almost entirely around the beautiful little girl we made and her most spectacular birth). And as for goals for the New Year? Well, a focus on health - my mental health. Doing something to relax, something I enjoy, something just for me once a fortnight. Having dedicated work days and not doing work on the off days. Keeping my house tidy (when it is finished). You know, the stuff normal people do.

It will be operation do not burn out. And it will be done. 2014 will be full of awesomeness. And sleep.

A much needed parenting win

I'm not the parent I want to be right now. This whole PND malarkey is kicking my butt in terms of patience and acceptance of kids being kids. I have to keep reminding myself that Tricky is only three, because he just seems so much older now that Bobbin is here and he has a booklist I have to buy for kindy next year. KINDY!

Tricks has had some major adjustments over the last few months; his aunty leaving to live overseas, losing his bedroom, his backyard, and then the lounge room where he would play, gaining a sister, his beloved day care teacher leaving and of course having a mother who is not as bubbly and fun as she once was. It is so much in such a small boy's life and understandably he's pushing boundaries and figuring out where he fits.

Last week he had conjunctivitis. Have you ever tried to put eyedrops in to a stubborn three and a half year old child's eyes? One who doesn't like anything done to his head at all? OH it is glorious fun. The highlight of my day and just the thing to reduce me to tears because IF YOU JUST SAT STILL IT WOULD TAKE TWO SECONDS NOT TEN MINUTES!!!

My usual negotiating and firmness has been replaced with bargaining, bribery and, I'm ashamed to say, threats. I even pulled the biggest threat of all on him... that Santa would not come. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Because the behaviour wasn't "naughty" and therefore in need of consequences. He was scared. Absolutely petrified it was going to hurt. If I tell him off for telling me how he feels, what sort of message is that sending him?

I felt awful and his little frown broke my heart. I swore there and then I wouldn't let this bastard PND screw up my kids. I would have to get my creative parenting mojo back.

And today, I did.

Right now, his eczema is flaring. I've tried countless techniques to get cream on him but he hates it, again based on fear after one extortionately expensive cream stung him terribly. So, after refusing cream and being unable to even force it on him, he wakes up screaming and scratching until he bleeds. Every goddamn night. Something needed to be done.

I went to the shops and bought a new tube of cream and grabbed a $2 sheet of Lighting McQueen stickers and wrapped the former in the latter. I raced outside to show Tricks our tube of 'Rust-eze' and his whole face lit up. It was magical. I told him that this was the same type of Rust-eze that Lightning McQueen used and it would make him run, scoot and ride faster. Yep, I lied. And I'm damn proud of myself.

For the first time ever, he let me put cream on him without crying and begging (from either of us). Then, with the biggest smile ever, he ran around to see if it was working already. We whooped and hollered at how unbelievably fast he was going, and he was pleased as punch.

It might sound pathetic that I'm so proud of this, but if you knew what a fight it was every time he needs this cream, you'd be fist bumping and air punching too. And I feel that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of my mojo is on its way back.

Balloonatics!

 This is a S3 post
For full details please see my disclosure policy

On a scale of one to completely freakin’ awesome, my latest RedBalloon adventure was right at the top!

Given I am a RedBalloon Mum, I felt it highly appropriate that my next adventure should in fact involve balloons, red or otherwise. So now I’m a Hot Air Balloon Mum.

Aunty Penny and I decided that rather than get up at 3:45am and drive on pitch black country highways, we’d travel to Northam, just over 100km from Perth the day before. We declared it our Bridget Jones minibreak but, sadly, Daniel Cleaver was nowhere to be found. We checked in to a cute little B&B then went off to explore the town before heading to bed with alarms set for the ungodly hour of 4:45am.

The next morning I was the epitome of bright eyed and bushy tailed. I am NOT a morning person and that never happens, but it would seem my body made an exception knowing just how awesome the prize of a Hot Air Balloon Ride would be. We headed out to the airfield, checked in at 5:15am and listened to our briefing.

Pre-dawn filling of the envelope

A bus (playing flight related songs like Come Fly With Me, 99 Red Balloons and Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines!) took us to the launch site and the 18 other passengers, Aunty Penny and myself all helped set up “Rainbow Dancer II” … yep, 20 passengers and one pilot in total on one Balloon. If the average weight of the person was 75kg that is over 1.5 tonnes of weight… then you have the basket, and the burners, and the gas tanks, and the GPS equipment AND the little fluffy koala pilot mascot. All held up by hot air. Mind boggling! Yay for physics!

Hot Air Ballooning is the oldest form of passenger flight. In the days of the first Balloon flights in the late 1700s, they believed it was smoke that was doing all the work so they would build a fire in the basket and burn whatever they could (but hopefully not the silk and paper Balloon!) that would create the thickest, blackest smoke they could – think rotting meat, wet straw and brandy. It would have stunk! Happily, they use propane now. Again, yay for science!

Just before the sun rose, we gently lifted off the ground and began floating peacefully up in to the air. I could barely feel the movement and because you’re going at the same speed as the wind, there is no breeze on your face – it was all just perfectly still and surprisingly warm.

Our shadow shortly after takeoff

The weather was perfect. Ballooning in bad weather can be extremely dangerous and flights can be cancelled with little notice if the weather changes or the pilots don’t think it is safe. The flights on the two previous days had been cancelled so we were very lucky to have such great conditions. I would have been disappointed if ours had been called off, but I’d much rather be disappointed than dead - there are no airbags or seatbelts in a Balloon!

We watched the sunrise from 3700ft above sea level and reached a top speed of just over 60km/h. We even had on-board catering in the form of a lolly jar passed around and I was amazed to see as I was taking pictures on my phone that I had signal… so of course I Tweeted and checked in on Facebook because, well, I'm a bit of a show off!

Sunrise from 3700ft

I wasn’t prepared for how much control the pilot had – he was able to take us close enough to trees so that we could reach out and grab a leaf, then climb us high over the hills, drop us down over the Avon River and then soar us over the town, all so gently and smoothly, like a giant rainbow bubble floating through the air.

Our reflection in the Avon River

After an hour of cruising from one side of town to the other it was time to land. As we got lower and lower it looked like the pilot was going to try to land on the trailer the basket is transported on. I leaned over and whispered it to Aunty Penny and we both watched, completely gobsmacked as the pilot guided us perfectly on to the trailer for the softest landing. It was amazing not only because it required great talent, but it also meant we didn’t have to help lift the basket up on to the trailer after! And we all know I'm allergic to hard work.

It was all hands on deck, or paddock, rather, to pack up the balloon (think stuffing a gigantic sleeping bag in to a really small carry bag) before we headed off to a gorgeous champagne breakfast with pastries, cereal, fruit, bacon, eggs, beans, mushrooms and hashbrowns in a local restaurant. I couldn’t partake of the champagne but in keeping with the French theme, made up for it with extra croissants.

Balloon selfies were mandatory

I could not fault the experience at all, it was breathtaking and the view was simply stunning. The only disappointing thing about it was that there was supposed to be a wedding on board and it had been changed to another day – I would have loved to have been a guest! 

If you want to think outside the square for Mothers’ Day gifts this year and surprise your mum with a RedBalloon voucher instead of a box of choccies and some slippers, head to the website and see the amazing experiences they have. Use the code REDMUM05 to receive $30 off when you spend $129 or more.

Aunty Penny and I have ticked Hot Air Ballooning off our bucket lists. What's on your bucket list?

Disclosure: Thanks to the team at Digital Parents Collective for inviting me to be a part of the RedBalloon Experience Program. I will be sharing my awesome experiences with you over the next few months. To read all of my experiences so far, click here. As always, all opinions are my own however the experiences are complimentary.

Four (other) things you can do with your ben-wa balls

It is not news that I have a Kegel exerciser. I told y'all about it and did a giveaway. A giveaway that over ONE THOUSAND people entered. Here I was thinking I'd be hearing crickets when I started talking about lady parts, but you lot are very pro-vagina and came in droves to get your hands on those awesome pink ben-wa balls.

Quite often since that day I've wondered what you could do with a ben wa ball when you no longer have a use for it? Once you have your vag of steel it's a bit sad for 'Ben' to just sit in your naughty drawer gathering dust so I took it upon myself to find out and let you know - think of it as a community service announcement if you will.

So here you have it. Four things you can use your ben-wa balls as when you're finished with them:

1. Earrings. They might be slightly heavy, but now that you've got a super strength vag, it's only right that you get super strength ears. This shit will be all over Etsy soon I just know it.

2. Bespoke Keyring. Particularly effective when you are at a swingers party - c'mon, you know that gal has been exercising!

3. Christmas Decorations. 'Tis the season to be jolly, and jolly you will be with these on your tree. In fact, I believe ben-wa is actually the ancient word for "inappropriate decoration".

4. Cat Entertainment Device. I have it on good authority that cats adore ben-wa balls and will go off like someone has spiked the catnip.

Doctored under CC license - cheers, HortenseJones

If you're going to use them again afterwards, I suggest a high quality cleaning substance. Or bleach if you're allergic to cats.

How do you use your ben-wa balls when you don't need them any more? Do you name your toys?

*No cats were harmed in the making of this blog post. I tried, but no one would let me borrow their cat for a sex toy photoshoot.

Just fucking do it

I think some of us need a reminder sometimes. I know I do.

Kim from Frog Ponds Rock said those words to me recently and I thought "Ima put that shit on a poster and put it as my wallpaper". I can always count on her to say something that makes me wanna fist pump.

It goes for everything. Whether it's your decision to monetize your blog, to have an elective c-section, to be vegan, to breastfeed your kid until it's seven, to embrace the latest fashion trend, to sing the praises of 50 Shades as a literary masterpiece or to support the world domination of One Direction. 

Say what you mean.

Mean what you say.

Someone is bound to disagree with you and be as emphatically passionate about their beliefs as you are yours.

Speak your truth, hold your head up high and all will be well.

If we all agreed? Fuck, it would be so boring.

SlackKeeper: The must have app for Slackers

Glow Industries is proud to present the newest and greatest app ever designed to help you faff around and do nothing all day: SlackKeeper^TM

In this increasingly corporate world where hard yakka is, regrettably, rewarded, it's difficult to keep track of your laziness and ensure you spend enough time faffing about on each of your interests rather than doing actual work.

But now, thanks to SlackKeeper^TM, being productive is a thing of the past! SlackKeeper is the perfect app for bludgers who want to keep track of their Slacktivities^TM and simultaneously increase their calorie intake whilst reducing their physical activity.

Left: Keep track of how many packets of chips you're eating and optimize your carb intake per minute with handy, easy to read graphs.

Centre: Using your phone's gyro and GPS features, SlackKeeper^TM alerts you when you have been physically active for more than 10 minutes at a time. Because you don't get to be Slacktastic^TM by exercising!

Right: Optimize your doughnut eating skills by doing the SlackKeeper^TM Doughnut Time Trials - you'll be eating a doughnut a minute in no time!

SlackKeeper^TM has been designed specifically for bludgers who are also social media junkies and love to inundate their friends and followers with pointless updates. Your SlackKeeper^TM account automatically posts your accomplishments directly to your Twitter and Facebook account - you don't have to set it up, because we know you're too much of a slack ass to do it!

Available on both Apple and Android systems for $2.99, SlackKeeper^TM is the most effective app you will ever find to help track, measure and improve your slackness.

At Glow Industries we're so confident you'll be the champion of slacking off after using this app that we're offering a money back guarantee! Use the app for 60 days and if you don't see either a reduction in productivity or a gain in weight in that time, we'll refund your money... if we can be arsed.

Are you gonna get slack with me? If you could create any app what would it be?

SEO tips for lazy bloggers

I've never been one for SEO. I mean, what can I promote to search engines? My whinging about nappies? That I'm one of a gajillion women who blog in Australia? I have no real niche so unless I can work in to a post "stuff SAHMs should read for shits and giggles while their kids sleep", I'll just keep plodding along as usual.

The only thing I do that is in any way SEO friendly is the titles of my permalinks, and that function has only been available for a relatively short time now so half the time I forget to do it.

But because I can see my highest ranking posts and the search terms that found them, I've decided to just include the keywords used in them in as many posts from now on as possible, and I highly recommend you should too. It's an SEO goldmine I'm tellin' ya!

These are some of my top posts of all time and the keywords they are found by:

Cold Power Competition - washing smarter. I shit you not. How on earth people find this blog when searching washing advice I have no idea. They'll be very disappointed, that's for sure.

Mappy Birthday - assless chaps. Yes. Think about what type of reader are you trying to attract. If it's one who likes bums, use assless chaps in a sentence today. Don't delay!

10 Reasons I Don't Read Your Blog - why don't people read my blog. Sadly people are reading this and possibly taking it as gospel when in fact it's just me ranting. 

This One Time I Pissed Myself Laughing - jump run leak wee. So I'm kinda proud of this one, it was my first attempt at SEO and it's actually working. It meant 2000 entries (OMG!) and lots of traffic even after it closed.

50 Shades of Torturous Writing - should I read 50 Shades of Grey. Yeah, the whole world is obsessed with it, no surprises there.

5 Reasons Shark Culls Are Bullshit - shark attack shark culls WA. Every time there is another shark attack, the government bangs on about killing sharks. The last person to be killed was actually a friend of a friend, and I still stand by this.

How To Use Chalk To Colour Your Hair - hair chalking. Yep, the coloured hair craze is still going strong.

So there you go. By my very scientific calculations if you write a post called 50 Shades of hair chalk and shark attacks on men in assless chaps who do the washing, leak wee and don't read my blog you will be hitting the SEO JACKPOT! Prepare for the servers to melt.

Do you optimize your posts with keywords? Or think SEO stands for Sugar Eating Opportunity like me?

I got trolled and all I got was this feature in CLEO

The list of things Miranda Kerr and I have in common is growing. Exponentially it would seem. We've both married hot dudes, popped out a kid and breastfed it, we're both naturally brunette, um, we're both women, err, we're both Australian. OK so it's a pretty short list of the clutching at straws variety. But now I can add that we're both in this month's CLEO magazine.

Image: CLEO

She's on the cover. I'm on page 75. WE'RE PRACTICALLY TWINS!

You know how I hate it when people spell out acronyms? Well I'm gonna break my own rule here and say this:

OH.

EM.

FUCKING.

GEE. 

Image: CLEO

Yours truly is mentioned in an article about how to deal with online trolls. The article, as you can see with the little pink haired dude above (remember them?), is called "I stood up to my troll", and references my first proper Twitter troll who I managed to track down by going all CSI on his ass.

Image: CLEO

I know I should be all aloof and shit and make people believe that this is nothing, but if I'm honest, which is kinda the whole point of this here blog, I'm as happy as a chick with carbs, which is apt because I am a chick who is carb loading by inhaling vast quantities of choc macadamia cookies. How else would I celebrate seeing my name, my real name, in a national magazine?

Image: CLEO

The article is a bit longer than that and has a few different ways of dealing with trolls. My section contains an F bomb, albeit with a strategically placed asterisk, though this time it's not my potty mouth, it was the troll. If you're bored at the checkouts you should totally read it.

Now please excuse me while I go update my media kit with "as featured in CLEO". Do you think it's too much to get it printed on a t-shirt?

This one time, I pissed myself laughing {with giveaway}

This post is about vaginas and balls. Hooray! I wasn't entirely sure if I should post it or not but after a discussion with my mothers' group about taking away stigma and making people feel less alone, I decided this was a community service thing. So here we go...

Childbirth isn't too kind to a gal's pelvic floor, ya know? Actually, even if your bub came out the escape hatch you're not immune because it's the act of carrying a watermelon for forty weeks that puts the most pressure on it.

Once you start showing a bit of baby bump it seems everyone wants to drill it in to you to do your pelvic floor exercises. From midwives to OBGYNs and passing motorists, they all seem to shout "Squeeeeeeeeeze! CLENCH!" the second you're within earshot. And now, it would seem, I'm getting in on the act, too.

If your pelvic floor is weakened it can mean light bladder leakage. LBL. Or, as it's known in my circles, PMSL. Now we don't want LBL or PMSL when we're on a night out in the CBD wearing our LBDs (with no VPLs!) while we drink UDLs. OMG, who drinks UDLs anymore? I mean, WTF?

So yes, for the record, if I've been coughing constantly or I'm a little *ahem* intoxicated and laughing with my girlfriends and I have a full bladder, then I have to clench like no one's business to prevent it happening.  Do you have three friends? Well one of you more than likely has LBL because 25% of women do - when coughing, laughing, sneezing, jumping or sometimes just because.

For the handful of men that may happen upon this, don't panic, when we tell you we might piss ourselves laughing it's not like we empty our entire bladders as soon as you say something bordering on witty. It's different for everyone but it might just be a drop or two which, after discussing with Map Guy, feels exactly the same as when you put it away "a shake short". Not the nicest.

20c piece for comparison

Anyway, back to the laydeez. This little Ben Wa-ish ball will help strengthen your pelvic floor muscles to help with bladder control. It's called a Laselle Kegel Exerciser from Intimina and yes, it goes inside of you. There are different weights you can try (it's like resistance training for your vag!) and you can connect more than one together depending on if you've read 50 Shades of Grey how advanced you are... do you have an advanced vagina?

"Beneficial to all women, Kegel exercising is recommended to reduce the risk of incontinence, prepare for a healthy pregnancy, help regain pelvic strength after childbirth, and maintain vaginal tightness"

This little sucker makes it less likely you'll be avoiding jumping up and down since the exact same muscles are used to have a really great time in the boudoir it can have a positive effect there too... which is sorta just jumping up and down of a different nature, really. In short, it can make your sex life a-maaaay-zing. 

If you freak out every time you're going to sneeze, cough or laugh then you'll benefit from this. If you've always wanted to try one and have been too embarrassed to buy one, then now's your chance.


I have eight of these fab little things valued at $19.95 each to give away and no, I'm not going to make you comment publicly or share it on your Facebook wall in order to enter.

Complete the entry form below to go in to the running to win one of the beginner balls - your name will not appear anywhere. Then think about emailing this post to your mothers' group, your sisters, your mums and your friends... 25% of them will be effected.

This competition is now closed.

Thanks to the 1038 people who entered!

This is not a sponsored post. However an admin fee was charged. Full terms and conditions can be found here.

Not just a Mummy Blogger

This morning my MummyAlarm went off, I stretched and got out of my MummyBed while cursing the single digit temperature and wondering if I could somehow will the heater to turn on.

I made some MummyToast, sat on my MummyCouch and turned on my MummyTV.

After watching some MummyPrograms, I brushed my MummyTeeth and styled my MummyHair before getting in my MummyCar to go out to and do MummyThings.

You see, since reproducing, it would appear that all my stuff is now MummyStuff, all my thoughts are now MummyThoughts and all my work is now MummyWork, particularly since I went and got myself a MummyBlog.

But I've never actually had a problem with the term MummyBlogger and readily identify myself as one despite loathing the word mummy. This blog started when I was up the duff and I wrote almost soley about this new direction my life was about to take. I wrote about birth choices, delayed cord clamping, preparing the nursery - you know, all the boring shit that no one gives a fuck about.

As I moved on from the intense first months of parenthood where I spent most of my time figuring out how this tiny human worked to a stage where my boobs got to spend at least some of the day inside my top, I started talking about other things. Random things that had little to do with whether I had a mini-Map Guy running around or not.

Even though every single post wasn't about nappies and breastfeeding, I still identified as a MummyBlogger because I was a mum who blogged. I blog about life and a large part of my life right now is my kid. Though I draw the line at discussing his bowel motions. This blog is a poo free zone. Lots of boobs though.

Whether it's because I've grown a thicker skin with a few years of blogging under my belt or the fact that I've embraced the word from the get go, calling me a MummyBlogger is as much of an insult as calling me white, chubby or asthmatic. You can't offend me with a fact. 

Some really cool things have happened because of this little MummyBlog. I've watched this Glowing community grow and some amazing opportunities opened up to me because of it. I became a writer for The Daily Buzz, was the expo coordinator for DPCON12, spoke at the Media140 conference about the power of blogs, contributed to the Things They Didn't Tell You ebook to raise money for Foundation 18, will soon be speaking to PR students about working with blogs and just recently I've been taken on as a writer for another site (more on that soon).

But that pales in comparison to the successes of my fellow MummyBloggers. Some have turned their blogs in to businesses, some have gone on to write for major publications, become published authors, others have become professional speakers. The list goes on and on and on because they're a pretty amazing bunch. Where they find the time I have no freaking clue, but I'd hazard a guess they spend less time faffing about on Twitter than I do.

So my point, because after all the waffling I do actually have one, is that my issue is not when you call me (or the friends I've made from this gig) a MummyBlogger. My issue, is when you put the word 'just' in front of it.

Do you love or loathe the term?

EDIT: Turns out I used some similar phrases in this post as the amazing Bianca from Big Words did in her post about why she isn't a Mummy Blogger! Great mind think alike... and came to opposite conclusions on the term Mummy Blogger! And yes, I totally freaked out when this was pointed out to me and went "She'll think I copied her! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

This one time, I went to Sydney just to go to a party

It would appear that I'm making a little habit of whirlwind trips to other states. This weekend I threw off the confines of the SAHM title and partied like it was 1999. Well, actually, more like it was 2000 because I was 17 for all but two weeks of 1999 and sure as shit someone will send me an email saying I'm a terrible role model encouraging underage drinking if I don't spell out exactly what I mean.

My partner in crime (which is JUST A SAYING) was the inimitable Real Jive Turkey. The Jive and I had never traveled together before and I wasn't sure what to expect. It was suggested I vajazzle my vajayjay as one must be prepared for everything, including body cavity searches by airport officials, but I stopped short and just threw a handful of glitter at my crotch instead.

The red-eye flight over was uneventful, that is unless, of course, you consider inhaling other people's farts, singing along to our respective iPods and a dismal attempt to vlog at 35,000 feet to be a highlight.

We touched down in Sydney at 6am, having not slept, and decided, since we couldn't check in yet, to hit the ground running and do all the standard cliche touristy things like eat McDonalds for breakfast, take photos of a bridge and a building we'd both seen many times before and sit in Starbucks charging our phones like wankers.

Starbucks, nuts (!!!) and ironing RJT's shirt using a GHD - highlights in anyone's book

The delightful Mrs Woog offered to leave a key out at her house for us to go and crash but I became so overwhelmed with which room I would snoop through first I felt strange to visit someone's house for the first time when they weren't even home, so we declined. This was a huge mistake and the dark rings under my eyes grew two shades darker in protest. Though apparently if I say they grew fifty shades of grey darker all the mums reading this will spontaneously orgasm.

I hit the wall at about 11am, having been awake for 27 hours, and decided that a giant can of carbonated caffeine and paying someone to rub my body would be the only way forward. I sat in the massage chair at a place called Unwind in Erskine Street and had THE BEST massage of my life. I had to restrain myself from groaning in pleasure as she pummeled my muscles in to submission and when she was finished I felt like I should kneel down and worship her. I didn't because it would mean getting down and getting back up again and, really, who has time for that when free drinks are waiting for you?

We pressed on to Bungalow 8 for a fab, slightly liquid lunch with some Bloggy friends. The Jive's list of female blogger friends has just increased ten fold because despite the fact that the conversation veered towards vaginas for a while, he appreciates how dedicated we are at pretending we don't have kids and getting drunk partying.

Liz, Zoey, Kristie, Rah, Me, JJ, Fi, Salz, Alyce, Nicole, Denyse, The Jive, Lily & Cassie

We couldn't keep our eyes open any longer we headed to our "hotel" at the official check in time. I was in charge of booking the hotel and it's safe to say that that responsibility will never land in my lap again as it became glaringly obvious I had booked us in to a dingy backpackers with convent-like rooms. The shower screen was broken, the shower head was broken, the windows didn't close (and it was FREEZING) and the beds were actually lumps of concrete covered in a blanket so thin I've seen layers of dust that have been thicker. But it was clean, it was cheap and it was central.

I closed my eyes and laid there, in the cold, trying to will myself to sleep for two hours before I decided it was pointless and that Twitter would be much more interesting than the insides of my own eyelids. I was right. Y'all are very entertaining.

Fast forward through what seemed like hours of serious hair styling from The Jive and we rocked up at the party that we were in town for. StMurphy's 40th. The atmosphere was electric and it was so exciting to meet people I'd been chatting to on Twitter for ages (like McDimples!), a whole bunch of new people that I'm now actively stalking, catch up with my faves Mrs Woog and SawHole, and, of course, give the birthday boy a hug and an awesome (if I do say so myself) card.

Card created using MoonPig.com.au

Mrs Woog started introducing me as one of Australia's best mummy bloggers to all her celeb friends who were there and despite me telling her she was full of shit, she continued. So I did what any self respecting new media junkie would do and let her carry on safe in the knowledge that the darkened room would be enough to camouflage my flushed cheeks and the massive headswell that was occuring.

Celebrity whoring it up (with a super bright nose removing iPhone flash) with StMurphy, Julie Goodwin,
Mrs Woog, Saw Hole, McDimples, Charlotte Dawson, The Jive, Natarsha Belling and Jo Thornley

I managed to embarrass myself by discussing the pros and cons of female urinals with Jo Thornley, complete with actions, and reverted to very similar miming tactics when my voice, which had been failing all day, completely gave up around 1:00am (after over 40 hours awake). A development that left me with the rather unenviable moniker of *ahem* "cock throat" for the rest of the weekend shenanigans.

A sleep in a concrete bed, a walk around The Rocks and a meet up at the pub with some new friends topped off an amazing weekend in Sydney and I was home by 11:00pm on Sunday night. And much like The Jive's luggage, my voice still hasn't returned. But it was so worth it.

Things they didn't tell you

When Allison Tait, of Life in a Pink Fibro, told me I was on her "wishlist" of Bloggers she would like to contribute to a new ebook that would showcase things they didn't tell you about parenting and be sold with all proceeds going to the amazing Cate Bolt's Foundation18, I was pretty sure she had sent the email to me in error.

Up until that point, the only wishlist I've ever been on is the one where people wish I'd shut up for a minute or at least take a breath in between sentences.

*takes a breath* Wish granted.

However, being the type of gal that seizes upon opportunity when it knocks, I didn't bring it to her attention that she had asked little ol' me and instead replied gushing that of course I'd love to be involved.

It was only after agreeing to take part that I found out who else would be involved and I promptly started to both freak out a little and have tickets on myself at the same time. I am now a "contributing author" (OMG author?!) alongside the likes of Bern Morley (woah!), Veronica Foale (bloody hell!), Eden Riley (shizenhousen!), Mrs Woog (holy moly!) and Kerri Sackville (I have no more words to express excitement, other than faaaaaark, so the title author should be taken off me immediately).

Then I saw the foreword was by Wendy Harmer and I went in to cardiac arrest. On the up side, my mother now thinks I'm a celebrity.

 

After seeing all these fabulous women were included, my decision to submit a piece involving infant erections is now being put in the "not your best move" category along side my attempt to limbo whilst drunk. *Note to self: Next time you're asked to be part of an amazing ebook, don't mention genitals*

Every parent needs to read it and realize they aren't the only ones who *insert ANYTHING to do with child raising here*. There will be fist pumping and chest bumping at large in celebration.

32 Australian Bloggers gave their time and creative talent (except for me, I just gave time and sarcasm), and a crew of people behind the scenes including Kate, Tracy and Mal, helped make Allison's idea a reality.

But now it's over to you. The book is $4.99 and I really encourage you to buy a copy, click on the logo below and remember all proceeds go to Foundation18.

Standing up for my Bloggy self (and why you should too)

I value myself as a Blogger and I value this space and what I have created. And I think, based on some numbers I can see, that other people value this place too.

I generally charge for advertising, sponsored posts, reviews and giveaways. The amount I charge varies greatly on a number of things including how nice the email you sent me was, the value of the product for review, whether you're going to give me a second one as a giveaway and whether or not you want the right to read what I say before I hit publish. I've been told by many Bloggers with similar traffic stats that I'm undercharging, so I guess I still have to work on that self valuing and self esteem a little more.

I don't charge for small businesses of the WAHM/WAHD variety. Some people probably think I should, but I normally don't. I like to think that someone would help my fledgling business out if the Blog was on the other foot. I suppose it's a lame attempt to get brownie points or karma or some shit.

This week I was asked to do a giveaway (not a review, therefore offered no product in lieu of payment) and when I told them my admin fee I received a reply:

Hi Glow,

We are happy to participate in a giveaway where the value of exposure offered is equivalent to the value of the product given. We believe that giveaways are a mutually beneficial as it drives new customers and adds value to your site as everybody loves a giveaway!

We are happy to post products to the winner but have not found it to be standard practice to pay an admin cost.

Thank you for your assistance.

Now I need to point out that this was not for some big ticket item... it was for a downloadable file that the eventual winner would have to print out themselves. So you think a permanent link to your site, a spruiking of your product, promotion through my social media channels with thousands of followers is worth nothing? Fuck off. No, really.

I keep being told "we see it as a win win scenario". The brand win and the reader wins... when do I get to win? Where is my piece of the pie? I LIKE PIE! PIE IS FUCKING AWESOME!

My fear of confrontation means I don't normally speak up so I just delete emails that ask for a serious investment of my time for nothing, and expect to be taken off their "Bloggers To Exploit" list. But I was kinda cranky this time. So I pulled on my grown up pants, embraced my awesomeness and replied:

Hey PR person from a company I won't name,

Perhaps an admin fee is not standard for start up blogs, but Where's My Glow is in it's fourth year now and pulling good traffic and trust capital thanks to consistent quality content, honest reviews, mentions in main stream media and my presence as a speaker at conferences.

I have really good traffic tracking and can tell you that giveaways don't really drive new readers to the blog (but do drive customers to the brand), therefore there is no benefit to me whatsoever to host a company for free on my website, particularly one that obviously has enough budget to hire a PR firm and is offering only a download that the winner would then have to pay to print themselves.

I'm sure you don't work for free to promote a brand, so neither do Bloggers who value themselves. Have a read of this post at Sleepless Nights and this one at Good Googs for more information.

Thanks for your time.

Glow

OK so I kinda talked myself up a bit - I've spoken at two conferences and only had three mentions in mainstream media but IT TOTALLY COUNTS, just ask my mum!

If your only compensation to me is the fact that I get some "fabulous new content" or that having your name on my site "adds value" to the blog then you can bite me. Like a hell of a lot of other Bloggers, I've got content coming out my ears and not enough hours in the day to write it all down. I'm not so desperately scraping the bottom of the creative barrel that doing a giveaway is the only reason I'll have a new post up.

Promoting a brand for free does not pay my bills and it does not "strengthen my relationship" with PR firms. On the contrary, it undermines it and teaches them that using Bloggers as doormats is the way to go. We have to remember that if they didn't think using Bloggers was valuable then THEY WOULDN'T BE PITCHING US. They see the value... but you're the one who has to put a price on it.

If all else fails, maybe we can all just sent them this awesome infographic by Jessica Hische :

Click to Enlarge {Source}

Would you work for free?


Agree? Share this post (yeah, I went there).

I can now add public speaking to my resume... If I had a resume

This weekend, because I'm the shy and retiring type, I spoke on stage about the rise of the all powerful pros and cons of being a parent blogger at the Media 140 Digital Family Day with Catherine Archer from Curtin University and Lani from Missy Boo. Mum Bloggers represent!

I was nervous despite the fact that I spoke on stage at the Digital Parents Conference - a little bit during the day and then again during The Mother Tongue at dinner - but that was in front of a room full of people who already "knew me". And by that I mean they may have watched a vlog or two and known not to expect too much.

Clockwise from top left: My tweet on the giant screen, Tricky being chased by Boo,
MC Bonnie & Boo, Mrs Wonders & I, Boo getting catty

Instead, I was quietly crapping myself because this was in front of an audience who had no clue who I was, bar Map Guy and The Wonder Couple who came out to show their support and try their hand at toddler wrangling in the rain.

Oh I didn't mention the rain? Yes, the city that seems to be in constant drought with major water restrictions decided that the day of an outdoor event would be perfect timing for the heavens to open up and piss down on us while we were on stage holding microphones. Microphones connected to electricity.

Unfortunately, said rain also kept a lot of people away. Probably because everyone forgot how to drive as soon as the wet stuff started coming from the sky and went around yelling "the sky is falling, the sky is falling".

Clockwise from top left: Lani, myself and Catherine on stage, Boo being shy,
my speakers badge, Map Guy & Tricky on the beanbags

I have already forgotten what I said, other than when asked if Mum Bloggers were influential I said "Yeah, my husband buys what I tell him to" (oh hai head, meet desk, kthxbai) but apparently, according to my friends, I was charming and witty. And they would *ahem* never lie to me just to stroke my ego. I choose to remember it that way anyway, and ignore the fact that the freak storm coming in meant a few people left mid-talk and the head organizer had to stand behind the backdrop holding it up to ensure it wouldn't get blown on to us (thanks, Ande!).

The highlight of the day for me would have to be when an audience member, the gorgeous Tif, came up to Lani and I afterwards to thank us and have a chat about blogging and how some people just don't get why we put our lives out there online. Because that's what it's all about, meeting new people and having awesome conversations.

Why do you put your life online?

Pimp My Con

Yo. Sup?

Now don't be gettin' all up in ma face about ma new way of talkin'. I be the shiz and can talk however I damn well please. Ya dig?

Oh dear lawd it's painful to talk like that!!!

So. I'm gonna do some serious pimping of DPCON12 because it's almost here! In order to do said pimping, I gotta look the part, right:

Ahh that's better. Suits me, yes? You can call me Glowalicious.

And the fabulous team: Kirrily "Ma Grillz" Whatman, Brenda "Bling Bling" Gaddi and Maria "Sparkle Eyes" Tedeschi:

We're a pretty bunch, yes?

We have been working our butts off (yet mine is still expanding) to bring you an awesome conference and it's looking absolutely brilliant so far!

I'm so excited to hear the speakers, especially those jumping up for My Blog, My Story - last year I bawled my eyes out so this year I am coming prepared with tissues (hidden in my feather boa, of course) so that I don't have to have snot up my sleeve again.Or perhaps pimps use silk handkerchiefs? I'll have to look in to this further.

Because I'm an attention whore a go-getter, I'll be jumping up on stage during dinner and hosting an open mic where you can get up and read out one of your best blog posts from the last year. HOW COOL! If you want to be part of it you can email me at trae@digitalparentsconference.com.au (come on, you know you want to).

There are less than a handful of tickets left so vamoose! You get a full access pass to the conference panels a choice of workshops, admission to the expo room (my domain!), the chill out room, morning and afternoon tea, lunch (nom nom I've seen the menu) and the fabulous dinner dance where there will be dinner and dancing (duh!) and you get to meet me.

Will I see you there? You'll recognize me cos I'll be the one dressed as a pimp.