Mummyfried

Until yesterday, I looked at my angels and saw two mini versions of me.   Mini-Me 1:  A pre-baby body.  A pre-Mr Lucky, pre-debt, pre-stress, and exhaustion from cleaning cooking working, and caring (not in that order). A fit, healthy, rested body - a result of sleeping in till 2 pm after five nights of solid clubbing, hence laughing, exercising, flirting, and genuinely enjoying life. An occasionally clumsy, happy, cool cat that moved in different social circles with lots of friends.    Mini-Me 2: Post-baby body. A doughy soft, perpetual beginners level yogi, with a LOVE  of good food, a select group of very very good friends sprinkled with a blessing of earth angels who have made me laugh, be grateful for what I have, and who encouraged me to appreciate the small things, and become someone filled with endless buckets of positive affirmations, a sun worshiper in a bikini with that 'I know, I shouldn't, but I  am happy and it's comfortable' fa...

I am a proud member of a closed Facebook mothers group entitled Foreign Mothers & Mothers to Be in Athens. This is a group of women I have met, many only online who have become my sisters. They are my ‘go to group’ for answers, support, advice, and laughs.  We celebrated a coup today (not the sudden, violent, and illegal seizure of power from a government type by an instance of successfully achieving something difficult). And I am proud. Very proud. Not for the group – but for what we have achieved for our children…  Since distributing the below statement today to the press in Greece and since agreeing to bombard retailer websites, schools and registering complaints online over the last two weeks, many retailers have removed what we have considered to be inappropriate images of young girls in fancy dress.  Mothers in Athens come together to put an end to the sexualisation of little girls Apokries in Greece should be a special time filled with fun, laughter...

Since 1 January 2015 and perhaps a little before then, I have been missing in action (MIA). Aside from close friends, Mr Lucky and the ankle biters noticing, my MIA status suggests the following state of play: 1. Every one else has started the new year with much gusto and madness and they haven't had time to notice I am missing. Let's face it,  2015 to date has been operating on warp speed - I haven't had time to notice if anyone else is missing too. 2. My stats regarding my readership or followers are incorrect - nobody reads my blog.  I don't really want to explore this further but there is an ever so slight suggestion (I really hope not) that my blogs are.... floating in dead, unread, uninteresting space in the WebSphere. In January I submitted a public service contract role application and got the job. The job, while mostly in English, requires Greek. This, like my readership statistics is a challenge and requires some attention. Also since January I: Packe...

It's come around so quickly. The end of yet another year. I have been blogging for nearly a year, averaging on one blog a week. Not bad for a newbie. Sure the content has been snooze-worthy at times (ok most times). On a rare occasion I have managed to crack a smile from some readers, and some comments! This year has been the toughest yet greatest year of my life. My immediate family has bought me joy and laughter. I treasure them each and every second of the day. I wake up each morning and can't wait to see the smile, giggle and scream with laughter. I have been met with challenges I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Challenges that have changed the way I view people and relationships and life in general. I have fought battles I never imagined possible. I haven't won.  I have come out wounded but hopefully wiser. The sort of wars I have had to take part in never result in a winner. I have said goodbye to people, hello to new friends and family and have p...

Last week I was at my local supermarket, a well known Greek chain.  I picked up a few items that were discounted if I produced my loyalty card. I had left my card at home. The sales person promptly asked the lady behind me for her card. She used her card to give me the discount, and handed the card back. Other than  'Oh, I don't have my card' I uttered no other words, and the above transaction took place in a matter of moments. Gobsmacked, I turned and thanked the behind me, and also the sales assistant, They both looked at me as though I was thanking them for jumping on my feet. I left feeling as though I lived in a nice area. Mr. Lucky came home yesterday with an extra carton of milk.  He explained that the day before he forget to pack the milk when he picked up an armload of groceries. The sales assistant remembered him, and told him when he was at the checkout.  She left the till, got the carton of milk, and packed it for him explaining why. Tod...

As a child, I don 't remember being scared of my toys. Except the time my aunt gave me a clown, and my sisters and cousins would dangle it in front of my face when I slept - reenacting a scene from Poltergeist the movie. Their giggling would wake me up and I would scream in terror as the clown grinned at me. It wasn't an evil looking clown. It was kind of cute.  But the movie, and my sisters actions made me hide it in the cupboard and one day, I threw it out. Nobody noticed the clown went missing. As I often lie awake in my daughters' room, I look around and watch as dusk turns to dawn my daughters toys gradually morph in my mind from innocent dolls to a gang of undesirables. There are three dolls I  pay attention to. They are on my watch. They are like the rough kids in the playground.  I stare, I watch, I wait, I observe. I am ready. If they make one wrong move and even hint at hurting my cherubs, like a panther I am ready to attack. One is a Minstrel doll...

The children are playing independently, I have an opportunity to meet my personal deadline for a blog. I am stuck for what to write. The last two weeks I have been lying awake between 1 am and 6 am, my mind swirling with ideas, funny anecdotes, plans for adventures. And today, now that I have time and space to think.. nothing. This state of paralysis has to to with the fact that last night, for the first time in a long time, I fell into such a deep slumber, despite sharing a single bed with Little Miss that the back of my nose and throat are sore after a deep heartfelt and continuous snore. I silently breathe a sigh of relief. I am currently sporting a Madonna 80's hairstyle. The no longer subtle regrowth, hair in desperate need of a cut and treatment, combined with a constant snore can't be attractive. Mr Lucky hasn't noticed (rather commented - that is why he is Mr Lucky).  The sigh has slowly turned from relief to worry. Having had a good night sleep means ...

There are lots of things I love about Greece. One thing is the food. There is only one word to describe it, delicious. Another is how child friendly it is.  Greeks absolutely love children, and children that receive their love and adoration are happy little campers.  My cherubs suck up the attention like a sponge does water. Before moving to Greece, eating out would be a stressful initiative (for me mostly).   Sensing my anxiety, my cherubs would turn ‘Chucky’ throwing food and morphing cutlery, glasses and plates into deadly weapons. In Greece it’s a more relaxed affair.  Staff and patrons are used to children wondering around restaurants and tavernas.  A broken glass is a problem only because staff worry that the bits of glass are dangerous, not because it was broken in the first place. We recently were in Athens and dined at the Hotel Grande Bretagne’s GB Roof Garden Restaurant. My old stress levels returned.  I couldn't shake my old mantra ‘...

I confess quite easily to having a few phobias.  They're nothing to be proud of, they're things that need to be worked through. I am a germaphobiac.. If I was a more confident person, I would happily wear surgical gloves and masks on public transport, I would have all public toilets cleaned before my use. Anti bacterial hand gel and wipes are in my close circle of friends. I suffer from TOTPAS (you will need to read a previous blog entitled TOTPAS and Balloons   to learn more about this serious ailment). I would prefer to be under anesthetic when visiting the dentist (so much so that I obsessively clean my teeth to avoid ever needing to visit. I hate taking my cherubs to the doctor to be immunised. I find it incredibly stressful so much so that Mr Lucy normally does the honors and I sit in reception my arms open wide waiting to console and cuddle. It was The Baby and Little Miss' immunisation day yesterday.  I was so worked up about this double whammy that Litt...

Last week was unusual. Filled with genuine highs and laughs and a very big punch in face low. The impact of the low made me feel like a flat tyre rotating on a long steady road. The sound of a dead thump repeating itself over and over again. The extreme high of reconnecting with people, experiences, love and the promise of a new adventure pumped some air into the tyre and the sound of the dead thump wasn't as deafening. A serious ‘one to one prep talk to myself’ combined with a few laughs with my two cherubs and Mr Lucky normally snaps me out of the low but for the first time in a long time, I haven't been able to shake it.   This low has made me want to run it out get my heart pumping, start sweating it out, return home to shower it all away. Of course I visualise the running thing. Being a role model (note, the emphasis on role and not model) to my children, an individual that can deal with anything thrown my way - my comfort eating technique stopped a long time ...

This is a blog of unconditional love. Even I have to roll my eyes and gag a little. So if you are at all like me, I urge you – stop reading. Help me save the reputation of this blog site and please STOP.   Move   along, nothing to read, nothing to say.. MOVE ALONG I URGE YOU! If you are at all on the soppy, 'water spurting out of your eyes at the drop of a hat' type, then by all means read on.....if I bring a tear to your eye – then I may have just salvaged my reputation and this blog, and blog site. I have been so caught up in the mundane and the day to day that an entire year has gone by since having the Baby and I feel cheated.  Don't get me wrong. I have spent every waking hour and more often than not every half sleeping hour with her. I celebrate her existence with each and every breath – but still, I feel cheated.  She sleeps in her own room. She is almost walking. She has seven teeth. She wants to feed herself. We no longer sterilise or boil water...

When my mother decided on a career change, she went to college, completed a child care course and started her own child care business.  I helped her with her assignments; cram for her exams. We even attended First Aid training courses together.   After passing the police check (she tried to convince me that it was a work requirement, I still don’t believe her) she let me work for her during my university holidays. It was fantastic. I got paid to run around with a bunch of cute kids and play games.   One would think the above would have prepared me for Little Miss. Well… As a newborn, she rarely slept.  She grew older and we tried to introduce a routine. Despite an active day, nap or quiet time and a strictish 7 pm bedtime, she would sing in her cot from 7 pm to 10 pm. nonstop.  The neighbors commented. As a nearly three year old she now sleeps all the way through. In our bed. She wakes me in the middle of the night to tell me to be quiet (...

There will be days that you just want to cry and that is ok Baby poo can travel all the way up the back A baby on the 7 pm to 7 am sleep routine will never be yours Toddlers hate washing their hair their screams can be heard all the way down the street Toddlers like to be held even though they weigh 22 kgs Sleeping in, means getting out of bed at 7 am Sleeping through the night means more than four hours sleep  Walking barefoot during toilet training or baby weaning is not a good idea There are no more private moments in the bathroom If you have nowhere to go, getting dressed in the morning is an achievement If you’re an older parent, it’s unlikely you will ever get your pre baby body back without the help of a personal trainer and dietitian. Just let it go. Really, let it go Cutting baby or toddler nails is bloody hard  Toddlers don’t care if they can’t color in between the lines, why should you? A toddler can't differentiate between a toaster and a dvd pl...