Message from your Mother

It's risky business being a parent.

Just ask the New Zealand father who got up in the early hours of the morning last week to take his crying baby for a drive in the car.

Except...... he managed to stuff it up bigtime. He decided that since the baby had finally fallen asleep, it was 3am and he was already out, he would have a bit of well deserved fun.

He ducked into Mermaids the local Wellington strip club leaving the baby all alone in the car.

The man was clearly exhausted and no doubt had a flabby, hormonal wife at home but.......being a parent comes with some serious, long term responsibilities. Right?

I for one, never, ever, left you alone in the car .......well on purpose anyway. There was that one time I locked you and the keys in the car by mistake......but
I guess though I've done plenty of other stuff you could reel off without even drawing breath ....if I ever gave you half the chance that is.

A crying baby is one thing but I've got to tell you, balancing the parent/child relationship in the teenage and early adult years is much harder work. Maybe it remains that way forever.

I find that keeping my mouth firmly shut when I am dying to say what I really think can often seem like walking a tightrope over shark infested waters (and I am sure its the same for you with me too given once you become a parent you also develop selective amnesia about your own childhood and teenage years and the angst you caused your own parents. Who me? I was a perfect angel. I would never have done anything like that).

Take this week though. I stuffed it up. You mentioned in the one conversation and almost the one sentence that you went out with a Frenchman, an Englishman and an Aussie.

I think I was only half listening and thought it was one of those jokes, there was an Aussie, a Frenchman and an Englishman standing at a bar and one said to the other.....

OK, so I might have been laughing out loud already trying to guess the punchline when really what you were saying to me was you have recently 'gone out' with these people (just to clarify for my readers, no she did not date them all at the one time, one at a time).
I admit it. Finally. It seems I don't do 'appropriate' that well when it comes to you.

I might not have left you alone in the car as a baby but I concede I do say inappropriate things that I would never dream of saying to anyone else of your age.

I have to thank you for being understanding about that.

Because as many stories as I have about you, I realise you have twice as many about me.

But to be fair to me (seeing it is my blog), there are many occasions when you ask and even beg me for my opinion in what turns out to be a somewhat tricky no-win situation.

For me, that is.

And it's at these times that I find it hard to form the right words. In fact, as it happens, any words.

Example A. Do you remember this picture?

"What do you think of him, isn't he gorgeous?" you asked expectantly, waiting for my approval.

" Well come on, what do you think? you asked again.

I just knew, as soon as I clapped eyes on that picture that whatever was going to come out of my mouth was going to be all shades of wrong. Unfortunately, it didn't stop me. As it never does.

I could have said, Whatever makes you happy or Yes, of course or Are you at a fancy dress party? or He's got lovely blue eyes or Is he an actor? or even at a stretch, Lovely bra he's wearing.

I could have said any of those things. Instead, I chose to say, "What the hell is wrong with you? Is he a badly dressed transvestite or something? What have you got against dating normal people?"

I am trying (very, I can hear you saying).

But you know the truth is, it's hard being a parent.

Of a baby. Of a child. Of a teenager.

And now I'm learning that it's difficult being a parent of a grown up.

In fact, parenting adult children is a lot like feeding alligators.

If you stay too far away, the alligators will starve. If you get too close, you might lose your head.

See? A fine line that I need to work on.

They say practice makes perfect. I guess I will just have to keep at it..

Love you.

Your Mother xx

Happy Birthday Bruce

You made it to 14, you old dog you......

This pampered guy, who thinks he is human is the Hugh Heffner of the cat world....he has so many friends hanging around I've lost count.

Speaking of Hugh, he said something in an interview recently which really took my interest. Apparently he is thinking about getting married again and says there is no such thing as sex addiction. He had this to say,

“When you get married, you make a commitment. I had a lot of girlfriends, but it's not the same as cheating. I don't cheat. I am very open about what I do.” He also had stern words for motorcycle entrepreneur Jesse James, who has been accused of cheating on his wife Sandra Bullock with a string of other women. Hefner added: “Sandra Bullock's husband looks like a real creep. I think that when you are in a relationship, you should be honest. The real immorality of infidelity is the lying."

Oh I like that last line. So, so true. The real immorality in any kind of relationship is indeed the lying.
Anyway, Happy Birthday big fella! Yes Bruce, we will pretend you are partying at the Playboy Mansion ......but don't expect your pussy cat dolls to be wearing any bunny ears....your a cat for chrissakes! Be open and own it!

Looking for the Fountain of Youth

I am now of the age where I look in the mirror and find myself pulling the skin back from my face to see what I would look like with a face lift.

I also find myself muttering and whinging about the ravages of time, more and more, even though intellectually I accept its a fact of life.

This whole aging process is hard in many ways, particularly for females. And I've never met a woman who likes the idea.

However, while I lament that my body parts are heading south, it's not an issue I spend a lot of time focusing on. Maybe I avoid mirrors more than I once did so I don't get a constant reminder. Except that is, when I run into someone I haven't seen for a while who is around my age and I just cannot get over the fact they have aged so much. And if they have, it can only mean one thing...

However, it also seems there are a hell of a lot of people out there now trying to turn back the clock with surgery and enhancements. Their body parts get chopped, nipped, tucked and pulled in all directions. To prolong careers, keep up with younger partners, to regain self esteem?

I entertain the possibility of surgery down the track from time to time but I have to say the 'work' I have seen to date, looks so obvious and contrived. Even on my dentist who has had loads done and she is only 31. She has gone from cute to odd and there is no going back I suspect. I never feel any pain when I'm sitting in her chair because my eyes are glued to her face and I swear it does not move at all.

Then today, I saw this picture of Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. I couldn't take my eyes off Kenny. He must be hovering around the 70 mark. What has happened to him? Doesn't he see it? All that money and success yet .....he looks like a different person.

What kind of pressure must these people be under to want to do that to themselves?

It seems that after extensive surgery people seem to end up looking like someone who has just had loads of plastic surgery. They don't look younger, just 'pulled tighter'.

Helen Mirren is my kind of role model (plastic surgery or not). I will have what she's had, thank you very much. She has aged well. That's what I am aiming for - to ease into aging. As gracefully as I can, with whatever assistance I can that doesn't take away my identity or require stitches. I am not very good with pain and I would hate to do something that there was no coming back from. I am a little too risk adverse. What about you?

Short sighted Chinaman, French Lillys and all that jazz

The winner of the funniest caption for the previous post has to go to Adam Frayle from the Scandalous blog. His comment, "Short-sighted Chinaman grabs wrong fur coat?" is hilarious. Go pay a visit to Adam's blog. I am sure he is going to be shocked when he gets Hugh Jackman in his mail box.

_____________________

And speaking of mail, this is a shout out to Mike who recently emailed me. Bonjour and all that jazz big fella!

Thanks for your email today mon cherie but I feel I need to set you straight on a few matters. I realise that you could easily have mistaken me for a dark haired, French jazz singer named Lilly who is currently on stage in Paris and who you believe owns this blog. It's understandable really given, well given...... my fluent French, my short dark stylish locks and my beautiful raspy voice which has never seen the light of day...on any continent as it happens.

My happiness on receiving an email in French from whom I thought was a reader was short lived... that is once I blew the cobwebs off my 30 year old French dictionary. Those six years of school girl French clearly did nothing for my intimate understanding of the French language. I have to say I was as disturbed by your email as Google was confused by your email - it should have been put it in the junk mail.

You got the wrong Lilly, tiger. Way off the mark.

Lillys of the world beware, particularly those of the brunette persuasion who live in Paris and who sing jazz, Michel is coming to town in May....and looking for you...run fast!

And in my best school girl French, "Arrete de mes chercher Michel, il y a un bon gars".
________________

I will leave you with pictures of a beautiful part of Australia - vineyards in the Yarra Valley, Victoria. Some people may have wined and dined on more than chocolate over Easter. After the fifth vineyard visit, and the tenth glass of wonderful Australian wine, the grass was very soft to fall lie down on from all accounts. Sure, if you click on the photos you might see some evidence of this or you might just see some beautiful scenery.

Yes, it could be vineyards in France Michel, but it's not..truly.

What the Hell?

I realise we are living in the age of entitlement where indulgent behaviour is enabled and tolerated but I didn't realise it extended to our four legged friends too.

The following is a picture that someone recently took on a trip to China.

Tell me, what is going on with that dog?

Maybe this pooch is the Suri Cruise of the dog world and has to be carried around everywhere to avoid the paparazzi on their bikes.

What do you think?

The reader with the 'best' answer gets my leftover Easter chocolate. I take every word back that I said on my previous post. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing...sometimes. Alright then, you are sick of chocolate too? I will think of something else suitably Australian to give away. Fosters beer, a Kangaroo, Hugh Jackman, you get the idea..

Chocoholics Anonymous

I've never met a piece of chocolate I didn’t like.

So, for one reason or another, you can imagine how happy Easter makes me.

White chocolate, dark chocolate, chilli chocolate and even the pretend kind (like tofu dipped in carob) is fine by me. I’ve even been known to eat cooking chocolate if the ‘urge’ strikes and there is nothing else close at hand.

Chocolate has seen me through the good times and the bad times (ok, ok, and every time in between).

I don’t need a reason to indulge. Chocolate is reason enough isn't it?

And best of all it's cheaper than therapy and you don't need an appointment.

However, given you are likely to be in a chocolate coma by this time tomorrow, I thought I'd pass on a few early tips to those worried about looking like the size of a house after a day of over indulgence.

Remember, the aim is to become chocolate enriched, not sick,

1. Nibble do not bite. There are no kilojoules/calories in nibbled chocolate.
2. The first and last Easter egg has no calories. The first is a taste test and the last is just tidying up. Besides eating the last Easter Egg prevents arguments and awkward moments and is a case of self sacrifice and therefore calorie free.
3. Tiny Easter eggs are calorie free. You must east 300 at least before you put on any weight.
4. Chocolate rabbits with weird faces do not have as many calories as ones with really cute faces. It's true, it really is.
5. French chocolate is far too expensive to have any fat content in it at all. Just look at any French woman if you don’t believe me.
6. Any alcoholic substance that you use to wash down the chocolate reduces the calorie content of said chocolate by 50%.
7. Eating equal amounts of white chocolate and dark chocolate produces a balanced diet.
8. And if you don't believe anything else I've said just remember that chocolate has loads of preservatives and preservatives will make you look younger.

What can I say?

Except perhaps,

Happy holidays to you all and easy does it on that chocolate.....or at least wait until no-ones's looking....


Image mine, part of my Easter egg making.