Thursday, April 14, 2016


“How much of my hair has my baby eaten?” is a thought I have about four times every day, because once I saw a documentary about a girl who had to have a sausage made of hair removed from her intestine because she was always chewing the end of her ponytail. My hair sheds like a mofo and always ends up wrapped around Max’s hands and feet and in his mouth. I've even had friends tell me they've found my hair in their socks or wrapped around their penises, it sheds that much and spreads that far. This hair issue made me realise that while I’m a good mum, I’m not a great mum. Don't get me wrong, I change Max when he’s dirty, feed him when he’s hungry and cuddle him constantly, but I have done some things which I definitely lose parenting points for. For example, I didn’t realise I wasn’t meant to eat soft serve while I was pregnant and ate it more than I ever have for the nine months he was in my belly. Since then I've been making a bunch of poor parent choices, sometimes they are born of ignorance, sometimes I've just consciously made a decision that favours me over Max. I like to call this style of scary parenting “scarenting”. Scarenting decisions can range from mild (letting your three month old baby watch True Blood) to major (giving your baby to a strange man to hold while you go to the toilet in a shopping mall). Some scarenting choices I've made in the last few months are as follows.

Mild: Sometimes I don’t soothe Max when he cries because he just looks so hilarious when he is really getting his scream on. Like a furious little beetroot. 

Iffy: When he decides to cry in an enclosed public place, like a waiting room, my go to response is to look apologisingly at the people around me and offer “Would anyone like a baby? He's barely used!” Har har har. The other day I said it in a lift and a lady who I swear to god looked like the witch in Hansel and Gretel responded very seriously “I would take him”. I bet you would scary lady. I stopped talking and just looked at the lift door, desperately willing it to open before my child was abducted.

Not great: I was playing tennis (because I'm a MUM now) and another player's little girls were patting Max. Which was fine by me until their dad offered me a great bit of “advice”. 
“Did you know no one had peanut allergies until vaccines were invented? I don't think it's right to put something so artificial as a vaccine into my young children’s bodies.” 
Aaaaaaaaarrrrggghh. I didn't know how to politely snatch Max away from his, surely disease ridden, children. So I let them keep patting him. And just so you know antivax man, if you don't want artificial substances entering your kids bodies, here are some natural things which might enter their systems: measles, mumps, rubella, whooping cough, diphtheria, smallpox. And FYI I'd rather my child have an allergy than be DEAD thank you very much. 

Pretty bad: I moved out of our marital bed and into the spare room with Max for a few weeks when Nick went back to work, because I am a very considerate wife and it also meant I could watch netflix all night. Meanwhile our cat Jenny moved into our room to keep Nick company. A week later when Nick went to change the doona cover he discovered that Jenny had actually done a poo in my side of the bed and he had been sleeping next to it all week. I was out, so he sent me a picture, FURIOUS. Then to make matters worse he went to send a picture of Max to his parents but accidentally sent the poo picture, meaning that he then had to explain to two of the cleanest people I’ve ever met why the cat had pooed in the bed. This was not, strictly, a parenting faux pas but definitely not the best housewifery ever. 

Major: I don’t think this is too bad, but from the looks I’ve been getting from everyone when I ask this question, it is a major no-no for me to even be thinking in the privacy of my head. You know how you find your partner attractive and that’s why you have a baby with them? And you know how sometimes babies look exactly like one parent? Max is like a tiny clone of nick (which is rude because I spent all that time growing him, both when he was in my belly and when he was out of it, literally all the food he’s ever eaten has come from me, he could at least look a bit like me. Boo.) So how is it that you can have a child who looks EXACTLY like the person you are attracted to, but you’re not attracted to the child?! I’m talking about when he’s older, obviously not now when he’s a baby - I'm not some sort of creep. My mum suggested that maybe it was the age difference. And pretty much everyone else just looked at me, disgusted. But I reckon you guys can suck it because, think about it, it's a valid point. 

So I'm not Mum Of The Year, and I may have spent a lot of time explaining to people why Max’s arms are covered in bruises (they're hickeys ok? He sucks his arm until he gives himself hickeys, what can I do?) but as Nick told me when we brought him home from hospital “our only job is to keep him alive.” And, as I find every one of the ten times I check he's still breathing during the night, I'm doing alright at that!

Friday, April 8, 2016

Entreprenah or Yeah?

I had a facebook friend once who got 30+ likes on approximately three statuses in a row and then started posting (seriously) about how he was going to try stand up comedy. There was nothing I wanted more than for him to actually do it. I would have absolutely gone to that show. Because he was for sure going to flop and the only thing I like better than seeing someone who’s really good at comedy is seeing someone who is REALLY bad. Look, I think I am hilarious, my sense of humour is exactly my taste in funny, but I’m pretty sure that if I got up on stage and started telling stories about my cat* no one would be laughing. Call it schadenfreude, call it shade, maybe I’m just really mean, but you can’t say that one hundred percent of the time you want everyone around you to succeed at their stupid dreams. And maybe it’s because people don’t know that their dreams are stupid that they pursue them. So here’s my stupid dream: to be a billionaire entrepreneur. And I need your help. Come on, you’ve been reading this blog for free forever now, you owe me one. So help a sister out and let me know if these inventions I’ve invented are stupid or completely viable (my hunch is it’s the latter). But let’s just keep these between us because I’ve read that you can’t patent things you’ve spoken publicly about.

Explained in four words: The selfie lover’s nightmare
Key Demographic: this one is for those people whose friends are obsessed with the perfect selfie
The pitch: If you have a friend who is just way too obsessed with the perfect photo of themselves and spend more time looking at their own image than Narcissus, this may help them remedy this personality flaw, or at minimum, really piss them off. This is more a service than an invention, and it may or may not have illegal elements to it but I’m sure we can find a way around those if you choose to help me finance this little goldmine idea. What we will do is take a really bad photo of them (provided by you) and have it printed on all new doonas, pillowcases, plates, mugs, bowls etc. then while the selfie-lover is out we will break into their house and switch all their stuff so they can’t escape the terrible photo of themselves.

Gat Girdles
Explained in four words: A girdle for cats
Key demographic: Cats
The pitch: Do you have a fat cat that people are always being mean about? My cat Jenny has struggled with some weight issues, which I know has got her down at times. The cat girdle would be made of spanx material and faux fur in a variety of colours allowing your cat to slim down in minutes (after only minimal yowling and scratching). No more saggy baggy moggy tummy!

Superstretch Smalls
Explained in four words: Really stretchy little undies
Key demographic: People with private parts who like to go away on holiday
The pitch: Does packing your undies take up HEAPS of space in your going away bag? I like to pack at least one pair of undies for each day I’m away and this can be quite space consuming. So I propose we find the stretchiest material available and make really tiny undies out of it, approximately the size of a matchbox. They’d stretch out to fit you when you went to put them on because of this theoretical super-stretchy material. Then you can pack all you undies in your pocket and you're ready to roll.

Explained in four words: See mailed gift reactions
Key demographic: People who regularly post gifts in the mail
The pitch: Are you really good at sending gifts in the mail? But then do you feel let down by not being able to see the recipient’s reaction (because of course the best part of giving a gift is the kudos you receive for being such a good friend)? Stampcam is a really, really small camera which lives in the stamp you affix to your gift and allows you to watch the joy which results from you being such an awesome friend via your phone. I haven’t figured out the logistics yet, but hello, genius.

Explained in four words: People reserve your table
Key demographic: Parties of less people than the minimum party requirement to book a table at a busy Sydney restaurant. Ie. People who aren't that popular but still like food.
The pitch: Why is it that so many restaurants in Sydney require 5+ attendees before they can book a table for you? Otherwise you're required to just wait there for an indeterminate period of time like a schmuck. And who are these mysterious groups of five? Two married couples and a divorcee? A single dad and his four adult sons? For a small fee I would have someone go and wait in the table queue at your restaurant of choice and then call you when your table is ready. And you and your one friend can rush there ASAP and enjoy the fruits (and meats) of someone else’s labour.

Explained in four words: Make cash from autocorrect
Key demographic: People who want to advertise their wares
The pitch: Now it might take some convincing Apple to agree to this but I think this is a missed opportunity for advertisers. You know how your phone autocorrects words to other words? Like once my phone changed “let's go shoppingggggg” to “ape Finn nutty”. Maybe for a reduction in your monthly phone repayments you could opt to have advertising autocorrect. For example, you'd type “Let's go to the movies” but your phone would correct “movies” to Bedknobs and Broomsticks or whatever.

Chafe Bomb
Explained in four words: Instant chafed thigh relief
Key demographic: Anyone who is a few kilos overweight or whose thighs rub together when it gets warm and sticky
The pitch: The only people I’ve ever mentioned this to were incredibly fit and toned girls so they laughed in my face because they had never experienced how weird you look walking after you’ve chafed the inside of your thighs on a hot day. Chafe bomb will be a little like a bath bomb and a little like a water balloon filled with talcum powder. You take this small, purse-sized bomb, place it between your thighs, squeeze them together and pop it, releasing and distributing the soothing talcum powder within, relieving the pain of the chafe and allowing you to glide about for the rest of the day like you're on ice skates. Or like you would if you weren't so fat that your thighs chafed together.

So if you have a spare $10,000 you can buy any of these ideas from me. I can also do you a discount for multiple ideas. I started a Kickstarter page but you have to submit it for review and it's not that I was embarrassed but, no, wait, yep. I was embarrassed by all these ideas.

* When my cat Jenny wants dinner she gets really meow-y, so I ask her questions whose answers rhyme with the word meow, like “When do you want dinner Jenny?” “Neow” “What do you say when you hurt yourself?” “Ow” “How did the chicken cross the road?” “How?” See, I think that's comedy gold.