How to survive the first day of day care

Your sweet child is starting day care. None of this half day, play date, introduction bullshit. The actual real deal where you leave. For hours. What do you do? How do you cope?

Well, luckily for you I've put together this handy step by step guide on how to get through the day. You're welcome.

It's all about being prepared.

1. In the week leading up to day care, make sure to mention how much of an awesome time the child had the previous week. Try a sing-song voice, use jazz hands and interpretive dance to convey just how amazing it really is.
2. Run around like a man/woman possessed at 11:48pm the night before because you have only just remembered you need to label the thirty pairs of shorts and jocks you're sending along with your newly toilet trained toddler.
3. Act like a clown on crack on the morning of the big day. Happy, happy, joy, joy and all that shit. This is going to be The Best Day Ever!
4. When you arrive and the kid starts whingeing that they no longer want to go, despite having jumped for joy at the prospect mere moments ago, forge on in. Skip if you must.
5. Take the obligatory "first day photo". Wonder when your kid got so freakin' big.
   
   
6. Promise you'll be back, promise extra big cuddles, a trip to Disneyland, whatever it takes to make your spawn put away his quivering bottom lip. No matter what, KEEP IT TOGETHER!
7. Follow the lead of the carer who suggests your child wave over the fence as you drive off. Bolt to the car and burst in to floods of tears. Drive off tooting and waving like a maniac.
8. Come home and lay on the couch feeling like the worst parent ever despite the fact that this is going to be really good for the boy.
9. Do ALL THE HOUSEWORK. Make a mess preparing a massive casserole, drop some on the floor and pick it up and eat it - the floor is cleaner than an operating room right now so might as well.
10. Watch the clock. Wonder how soon is too soon to call and check.
11. Have a cup of tea. Marvel at how it tastes so different when consumed hot.
12. Call the day care centre. Fret when it goes to message bank four times. Finally get through and hear that your spawn has been whingeing a little bit for mum but not crying and easily distracted with ALL THE TOYS. On hearing that he is asleep at noon, feel sure that they must have drugged him.
13. Watch the clock some more. Clean some more. Put music on with swear words just because you can.
14. Cave in and pick up the kid half an hour earlier than you said you would. Find him sitting with his peers eating afternoon tea.
15. When he sees you and his lip quivers and he flops in to your arms with an "oh you DID come back" sigh, burst in to tears in front of the staff. They've seen it all before and will just ignore it but the other toddlers might think you're weird though... it's best they learn now anyway.
16. When your child hands you their first piece of "day care art" feel immensely proud despite the fact that it is just a box with red paint slopped all over it. Proceed to get teary again like the giant sap you are. Then feel a bit weird and wonder how long you actually have to keep it for.
    
    
17. Listen to him describe how he called "Mum! Mum!" as you drove off tooting the horn. Die a little bit inside.
18. Go home and give your kid an icecream and ask him if he wants to go back to day care next week. When he asks "Will you come back?" cry floods of tears again and promise that you will always, always come back for him no matter what.

I'm promised it gets easier. It better.

Were you a wreck on the first day of day care? Exactly how long do I have to keep the art work for?

Can morning sickness be glamorous?

It's no secret that I have been insanely sick this pregnancy. I've complained about it enough that I think most of the developed world has heard my whingeing. I had mild morning sickness when I was with child last time and managed to throw up three times, all whilst driving because I'm classy like that.

This time around though I've been heaving my guts up all freakin' day long. And all bloody night, too - I have a weird internal clock that has me waking up to spew at midnight at least three times a week.

My old tag line when I created this blog used to be "unbrushed hair, bags under the eyes and the faint scent of baby spew". If you remove the word baby, I'm right fucking back where I started! The result of all this, other than my long lost collar bones making an appearance, is that I look haggard.

So, because the whole Glow thing is quite obviously avoiding me yet again, I thought I'd ask the question... can constant puking  be made a little more, well, glamorous? And I figured for my experiment that accessorizing was the way to go:

I covered my spew bag with stick on diamontes because you can never have enough bling. I found this perfect for a night out, particularly when I matched the diamontes specifically to to my earrings and necklace. No need to keep this little baby tucked away in your handbag, when it looks this good, spew bags on the table at all times!

Considering that standing up in a shower makes me feel like I'm about the faint, the ol' hair is looking a tad neglected. In the morning it's scraped up in to a bun and by afternoon half of it's fallen out and I can't be arsed putting it back. So I whipped out a headband - but not just any headband, one with a giant flower on it. I took my cue for this from the massive range of maternity wear that has frills and shit on it - because apparently a preggo belly isn't feminine enough without prissy bows and bloody flowers.

If you have to suck back on Maxolon or some other anti-nausea tablet every five hours then you have to have them with you at all times. Now a blister pack just isn't on trend, is it? I have chucked mine (pun intended) in to my faux leather purse and Wonder Woman tin which may or may not still smell slightly of tobacco leaves from when I was a smoker. If your tin still smells of tobacco, I suggest you wash it thoroughly less you vomit every time you open it from the arsey scent of stale five year old leaves.

So after all this *ahem* highly scientific research, I can safely tell you that no amount of bling, flowers or funky pill holders will make morning sickness glamorous... but fuck me, a blingin' spew bag gets so much attention!

Gimme your morning sickness cures. Anyone who says give birth gets a high five in the face with a chair.

ALL TEH DISCLOSURE!!

Oh gawd not another fucking blog post about monetization and disclosure?! Yes, yes it is.

I choose to monetize this blog. Whether you choose to do it to yours or not, or read sponsored posts is as of much concern to me as which footy team you support. Each to their own, and all that shebang, unless it's the West Coast Eagles in which case EWW (aaand I just lost half my WA readers).

There has been a lot of discussion on disclosure lately and I had thought I'd always been up front about it. Turns out, not everyone thought so. I would always put right at the top of a post if it was sponsored, and for me sponsored meant money had changed hands and usually, but not always, the client had requested copy for review before publishing, normally to make sure delicate little me hadn't said fuck too many times.

I have always put a disclosure down the bottom when I'd received something for free and it always meant that there no money was paid, there was no copy sent for approval and sometimes even no obligation to blog. It might seem weird but sometimes companies will send you fabulous things or to amazing events just hoping you'll love it enough to write about it. I pinch myself when I think I've been sent interstate twice (once to Sydney and once to Radelaide) by companies who included a "no obligation to blog" in their invites.

It was "the way" to do it, recommended to me by other Bloggers and at conferences. So I did it and thought nothing more of it.

I find it annoying when I read all the way through a post only to find out at the bottom that the writer was paid cold hard cash... what I hadn't realized was that some people find it equally annoying getting to the bottom and finding out that there was a freebie involved. I've never found it an issue, but I can understand that some would so I decided a few weeks ago that I wanted to change.

So where do we draw the line? Does a packet of $3.50 bandaids require a disclosure? Is it only on posts that have to be approved by a PR consultant before pressing the giant publish button? Are the rules different for blogs with a few hundred readers a month versus a few hundred thousand readers a month? Is it OK to not disclose if you don't monetize but take on unpaid reviews? What are the rules?

Well, there are no rules. Not yet, anyway. I will sing a long and grateful tune, complete with interpretive dance and spirit fingers when disclosure laws for new media are passed and we are all on the same page. But for now, I will disclose everything up the top. EVERYTHING. Which is more than magazines do, more than TV shows do - and they're getting a shed load more cash, I don't earn enough money from this blog for it to be considered anything more than a hobby by the ATO (yep, I've had long chats with them - they kinda laughed at me for wanting to declare the pocket money I make on here).

Short of writing a freakin' novel on top of every post, I've come up with my own blog disclosure policy and after sharing it around for opinions and having a few Bloggers come back to me asking I'd mind if they do something similar (I don't mind, go for it), I think I'm on to a good thing... but it could always be improved.

What hasn't changed, and will never change, is that it is always my honest opinion. These "post codes" (geddit?) will appear on all posts where I received anything at all: a product, a launch invite, money or vouchers - even product I don't actually get to keep. There are times when I receive nothing... so looks like I need to update it already.

So tell me, whaddya think? What have I missed? 

We came, we shopped, we conquered!

This is a “Compensated (C1) Post”

for full details see my disclosure statement.

I’m quite partial to four letter words, my favourite of which is SALE. I’m sorry, were you expecting profanities? When in the John Hurt Way, throw another four letter word in the mix and you’ll have me frothing at the mouth. BABY SALE. Sadly, not a place where you can just pick up a bargain baby Angelina Jolie style, but where you can grab some specials and, in my case, show your second born that they are worthy enough to have at least one or two new things.

Now it’s not unusual for a company to offer vouchers to spend at a sale, but what is unusual is when they ask you to invite along some friends so that you can all become ooh-la-la-ladies who lunch and then give you all vouchers so you can shop til you drop! Which is exactly what Big W offered us… it was a tough assignment, but somebody had to do it and I’m quite obviously not above buying the affections of my friends.

We could have gone out to a fancy restaurant for lunch but the idea of four adults (one of which *coughmecough* is constantly vomiting) and seven children aged two and under going to a restaurant put the fear of the Google Gods in to me. Instead we had an awesome catered lunch at home where the kids could run riot (under the watchful eyes of my parents and Aunty Penny) and the mamas could whip out the iPads and start our bargain hunting using the Big W app. Plus it meant we could have chips without other people going “you came to a restaurant and you ordered CHIPS?!”.

Chips go really well with research

Our shopping exhibition was broken up in to manageable chunks thanks to the afore mentioned seven children and queasy woman, too. So we didn’t really stick to the plan (you try sticking to a plan with four toddlers and three babies), but we did all go out to our local store in the next few days and nab our goodies from the overflowing shelves. That stuck out to all of us more than anything, that there was actually stock! I’m so tired of giant fortnight long sales where a store seems to have only three items left on day one. There was stock galore that was, shock horror, actually being refilled as items were taken. Praise grilled cheesus, someone gets it!!

We make some totally cute kids

Being ever practical, Louise grabbed nappies, formula, wipes and a portacot; Trish snapped up a new pram, nappies and a toilet step; Kath grabbed some clothes, nappies, wipes and sippy cups; and I got my hands on a toilet step, some jumpsuits and toys for 2.0, a Belly Belt for me - which I'm totally claiming is actually for 2.0 now and therefore still counts as "for baby" - and Tricky’s entire winter wardrobe. When you’re not buying nappies it means a hell of a lot more cute clothes – The Trickster is gonna be lookin’ super funky. Between us we had enough goodies to melt our plastic gift cards, lemme tell you!

In store shenanigans

The only real complaint about the experience was from Trish… who needed two trolleys and an extra pair of hands to grab everything. It’s a bit of a first world problem, so I think we’ll let that one slide.

We had a great meal, no children were lost or injured (though Tricky did bolt out the front door at one stage – of course it was my child, of COURSE!), no one threw up in public, we got our hands on some fabulous bargains and my friends now think the life of a Blogger is very glam (she types at 1:00am).

If you want to get your hands on some discounted goodies, head to the Big W Baby and Toddler event which runs from January 31 – February 13.

Do you want some moolah to the tune of $100 to spend while you’re there? There are two ways to enter, by filling out the entry form below and/or head over to the 'book.

Alternatively head on over to www.bigw.com.au and use the promo code BABY10 to receive a $10 eVoucher for your online purchases (valid to 31st of March 2013, no minimum spend, but doesn't count towards postage).

EDIT 11th Feb 1:00pm AWST:  The eVoucher has been suspended due to improper use by a third party website. Big W extends it apologies to you all and thanks you for your understanding.

The Facebook Friend Conundrum

Over the years I've been on Facebook I've had my fair share of profile pictures.

When Tricks was born I put a photo of him up for the first two weeks so people could see that the little dude had arrived. Then I did it again during his first Christmas for a couple of days and again for a week when I photoshopped a microphone in to his hand and made him a rock star baby. Because, hello, everyone needs to see my mad photoshopping skills and our true blue, bogan roots.

I love youse all!

I have a little bit of an issue with people just putting their kids as their profile picture all the damn time. I want to scream at them "YOU ARE MORE THAN YOUR CHILDREN! DON'T LOSE YOUR IDENTITY" but getting all capslock cranky on someone's picture is deemed inappropriate and sure as shit will lead to an instant defriending.

I know, I know, your kid is adorable but c'mon, you are still a person ya know? Your definition is more than just mother/father.

Now despite this, honestly I couldn't really care less if you use your kid as your pic, do whatever floats your boat... unless of course you send me a friend invite and I have no freaking clue who you are, we have no mutual friends and any time we've had anything to do with each other you only referred to yourself by your relatively common first name. Who the hell are you? Help me out here!

And just so we're clear I'm not a child-hating "get your baby off Facebook" person, I think the same thing if your picture is a pet. Or a motorbike. Or an *insert other inanimate object here*.

So Christina Smith*, if you're reading this... I have no idea who you are. I'm sure you're lovely, but from your closed profile all I can tell is that you are a rather cute two year old boy with dimples that will break hearts one day. If by chance you're reading this, gimme a heads up, OK?

*Not her real name. Which totally doesn't help if she is reading this. Also, I'm very good at making up false names - Smith! Original!