Customer service and er, cooked food.

Mr S and I live just outside of town in the southern part of Tasmania. Our fast food options are somewhat limited, especially so on a weekend. That said, whilst there are few options there are some absolute gems. We always enjoy eating at the Red Velvet Lounge in Cygnet, Lotus Eater's Cafe in Cygnet, Little Treasures Bistro in Franklin, Great Southern Pizza at Cradoc and there's a brilliant fish and chip in Franklin whose name I'm forever getting wrong... I think it's Edge Cafe though...
Because we are that little bit out of town everywhere is a drive and as a result we mostly eat our takeaway by the river in Huonville or in the establishment itself.

Before I continue let me tell you about some fantastic service I've received in Tasmania. Red Velvet Lounge are always the most awesome people to be around, Lotus Eater's Cafe have super friendly staff, The Boat House Cafe in Huonville are always lovely, Little Treasures Bistro once took my order over the phone from my car sitting outside their restaurant (sleeping baby) and gave me a wave when it was ready, and the folks at DS Cafe are always delightful.

I'm a bit of a pain in the bum of a stickler for customer service and more than once I've asked 'To see your manager please', or written complaints about poorly cooked food or atrocious service that is all too common in Tasmania. I truly believe that your manager wants to know that your customers are unhappy and potentially won't walk their money through your door again. Word of mouth is king, especially in a state where business don't seem to embrace the internet as much as the rest of Australia.
The general rule of thumb is that customers might tell 10 friends about poor service, and they'll each tell 10 people, who'll tell 10 people. In Tasmania it doesn't take long for that to add up, and in a state where a lot of businesses staunchly refuse to have a web presence (my hairdresser doesn't even have her name in the yellow pages... 'I don't do "that internet" darling') it's word of mouth that both helps and hinders you.
So a month or so ago I had heard about a great new gourmet burger joint I hit the internet to find out where, when and perhaps a menu? Nada.
As in, no mention at all.
Sorry, one hit where someone had tweeted about the joint opening.
A phone number?
Nada.
Website?
Nope.
White pages listing?
Negative.
Perhaps this should have been my red flashing light?Like a sucker hungry mama with a sad baby at home I jump in the car and drive 8km to where I know said burger joint is on the main drag of a small town.
Two face meltingly expensive burgers later I head home again to Mr S and Millie. Expensive burgers are fine, the place has 'Gourmet' in the title.
Our burgers are piping hot on the outside, lukewarm on the inside and our meat patties are pink and lukewarm in the middle. We cut our losses and toss the meat, leave the bacon on and have two very unsatisfying burgers on stale buns. I wouldn't class them as 'Gourmet'. Not even a little bit. The menu doesn't seem particularly Gourmet. Giddy like a schoolgirl, I imagined somewhere where I had to choose between chicken and brie on my burger, not a burger with the lot, or a burger without the lot, squid and chips or a chicken schnitzel. Menu disappointment aside, I'm seriously disappointed about expensive burgers that aren't cooked to any food safety standard.

I'd love to call the manager and complain. In fact, I was given a number by a Twitter friend previously, but they weren't answering when I was trying to find out if they were open. Further web hunting provides a blog that was last updated in November, but still with no contact details.
So complain I cannot.

I am sad about my experience. My part of Tasmania has a dinky reputation for fast food (restaurants and cafes excluded - they are not fast food) and I was so hoping for a nice change. It was suggested to me by a friend who owns a great cafe/restaurant in the Valley here to give it another try... but I'm not willing to part with $25 for poorly cooked unsafe food again.
I'm just sitting in my hot house, somewhat hungry, wishing I had my $25 back and I'd had vegemite on toast instead.

I wrote the above rant about three weeks ago. I filed it and forgot about it, until last week when I went to buy hot chips (sometimes you've just gotta...) and was charged $3.50.
'Sorry, did you say $3.50?'
'Yes.'
'Oh, did you know your board still says $3.00?' Fumble fumble for more change in purse.
'Oh yeah... well... you know... chicken salt and all.'
'Sorry? What?'
I've met a with a 'Well, what do you?' kind of shrug. I raised my eyebrows and forked over the extra 50 cents. It's only fifty cents. The rest of my dinner is in the oven at home, almost ready for eating. And I'm hungry.
But really... fifty cents for salt?
SALT?

Am I here with my head stuck in the sand about the state of our economy? Is this normal? What do you do when you don't receive good customer service?

FFS Friday

Today's post could well be thoughtfully worded and well put together because I am currently either

1. In a plane.
2. In a car, having just been on a plane or,
3. By the beach, having just been in a car and on a plane.
4. In a bar, by the beach, wishing I was drinking hard liquor after having just been in a car and on a plane.

That's right. I am for once writing this In Advance. We have taken Millie on a plane. I'm hoping that I will survive the journey with my sanity intact. I think the key to this is a very strong coffee at either end of the plane trip.

Let the first world whinging commence!

• It was my birthday on Tuesday and I was awake half the night feeling ill. FFS.
• Mr S came home from work at 9am, feeling more ill and he went straight to bed for four hours, a bucket by his side. FFS.
• Millie was pale, sweaty and angry for a lot of the day. FFS.
• So, we took a raincheck on Birthday Dinner and I had roast vegetables and Mr S had none. FFS.
• My pinking shears arrived from the USA on Monday. The thing is that they were sealed up so goddamned tight that I needed a pair of scissors to get in to them. The irony of this was not lost on me. FFS.
• Mr S has helpfully put the old Peg Perego high chair in the passenger seat of the car for me to do something with. I don't really know what I am going to do with it take it to the tip? but I know I can't put my handbag within easy reach on the passenger seat. FFS.
  (Millie's daycarer has agreed to take the Peg Perego high chair off my hands. Phew. It means that my daughter will probably still sit in it, BUT I DON'T HAVE TO CLEAN IT. Thank god.)
• I was struck by some remarkably crap customer service again this week in Hobart. I stood at an empty counter to order a sandwich whilst three staff members stood 5 metres away talking about their weekend. I smiled, I made eye contact, I looked hungry, I was ignored. After a good 45 seconds (a long time at an empty counter) I turned on my heel to go somewhere else (via the manager to complain) when another staff member appeared out of nowhere and asked me if she could help me. I replied 'I hope so. I've just been ignored by those three for a good while now. I'd really like a sandwich.'
  This is a whole other post coming, but seriously Hobart, I encounter shitty customer service more than I care to admit. I don't want to hear anything about the gloomy state of small business when your staff aren't trained to do their jobs. What do I mean? I mean that my sandwich money and I will go somewhere else. And I realise my $7 sandwich isn't going to break your business, but that's still $7 in another business's pocket. FFS.
• When I mentioned something about taking my book on the plane tonight, Mr S replied 'Oh. Didn't I tell you? I had to nominate who would be holding Millie on the plane. I said you would.'
  'Me? WHY?'
  Mr S: 'You've got the boobs.' Thanks. FFS.
• I have 10 episodes of The Good Wife I'd love to watch on our holiday away. I don't foresee this happening. FFS.
• Actually, all I foresee happening is us both lying in state in a house by the beach in Narooma whilst Millie plays with her cousins. We are both still ill and feel seasick all the time. FFS.

Shiny Things

We went and saw the Wim Delvoye exhibition at MONA.
Stunning.

More Wim Delvoye.

Millie looking cute and stuff.

The beginnings of Millie's birthday party dress.

I love me some pleats.

My two favourite people in the world.

Part of my birthday present from Mr S - both Florence and The Machine releases.
I am enjoying!

As always, this is part of Sarah's FFS Fridays. She is as always, making me smile and I am ever so grateful for her for being on the other end of the texter when I need her. Go tell her she's awesome. OK?

Hey girl...

Hey girl...

I just found home grown raspberries in our freezer. Should I put some in the white chocolate mud cake I'm baking you for your birthday?

Yes. Yes Ryan Gosling Mr S, you should.

Hey girl...

I don't need any help. I know you're tired, so you go to bed and watch The Good Wife. I'll stay up and watch the cake then I'll do the dishes I've used so you don't need to do any housework on your birthday.

Hey girl...

I don't like to buy birthday cards, I like to make them from photographs I've taken hiking in the wilderness. I know it's late but I stayed up to hand make you a birthday card from me, then one from Divine Miss M too.

Happy Birthday to me!
And I haven't even talked about the awesome presents he and Millie got me.

No Mr S' had their dignity harmed in the creation of the post. The first conversation actually happened. The second and third were unsaid, but the events are true. Yes, I am the luckiest girl in the world. No, you can't have him, he's mine. 

Have no idea what I'm talking about with Hey Girl? Check this out. There are many variations, but the craft one still remains my favourite.

FFS Friday / Shiny Things Friday

The Big Sister Cat Edition

Back in the day when Millie didn't move.
Lucy's expression still somewhat says it all though.

Lucy is a... special sort. The kind with severe anxiety 'I Take Cat Prozac Everyday' sort. Which in itself is a FFS.
She went from ignoring me when I came home with Millie to hanging around, to not hanging around and is now making friends with Millie. Sort of. She spends a lot of time wanting Millie to pat her, then not wanting Millie to pat her. FFS.
I know there's some boundary issues going on, but I think I expected the 6 year old to be the Bigger Person and walk away when she's had enough. Not look even more pissy and wave her paw at the baby. FFS.
Millie now sleeps through the night (whispers oh god maybe I shouldn't say it out loud). OH MY GOD IT'S GLORIOUS. However I am still grumpy and sleep deprived because Lucy has stopped sleeping through the night and commences a 2am dance party on my bedside table, Mr S' bedside table, under the bed. FFS.
Yes, I hear you, the logical solution would be to lock Lucy out of the bedroom. However, she's a vindictive sort and would probably wee or poo in the bathtub or try and get in to bed with Millie. Millie would be delighted by this turn of events I suspect. FFS.
Yes, that's correct, I'm scared of my cat's actions lest I ignore her. FFS.

This week has been hard on the internet front. I'm saddened by my parenthood post and how the majority of people have been supportive, I feel like I've thrown a wedge between a few friendships. FFS.
That said, I still stand by every word I said.
The Bogan Neighbours (yes, I will still refer to them as that Daddy D) have been wearing on our nerves again. Their bad tempered Staffy was barking and growling in our yard at 10pm last night. They clearly knew the dog was out because after Mr S hollered out the window at the dog to scare it into leaving we heard the BN's call for the dog and let it back in the yard. Are you effing kidding me? There's also a highway between our houses. What sort of dog owners are they? We've complained to the council, we've told the landlords, we've told the BN's. What else can we do? FFS.
My pinking shears have not turned up from America yet. FFS.
I have learned not to sew in hot weather. I get too hot and angry and make stupid mistakes. FFS.
I just tried to make bias tape and it was an epic fail. I even read the instructions for a whole week before I tried it. Hmmm. FFS.
In a fit of vanity I caught sight of my regrowth in a public toilet mirror. I ran out to Mr S saying 'TELL ME. DO I HAVE GREY HAIRS NOW?'
He of the salt and pepper hair says 'A better question... do I have any grey hairs? But seriously, I can't see any. I'm sure they're there though. You're almost 30.'
FFS
Someone just left a message on my Facebook wall saying 'It's 1.30pm and I am aching for my FFS hit. COME ON WOMAN'. Okay, that wasn't precisely what she said, but I heard her judgement all the way from Brisbane. You can't hurry the genius okay? Reality: I've just been mooching about all day. FFS.

I think Shiny Things have to happen tomorrow. You can't hurry the genius.

Go and see Sarah over at Dear Baby G and say 'Hi. Amy said you were also a genius.'

Happy Valentines Day shirt - a tutorial.

So I'm still a complete novice new to this sewing malarkey, but I thought I'd share how I played a little game with a T-Shirt I like to call 'Pimp My Shirt'. Or a refashion as the crafty types would say.
Millie has this awesome black Bonds crew neck shirt that fit like a dream and is SO soft and delicious to have her wear... she just looked like a boy every time she wore it. Mr S requested that I make it look a little more girly. Sure thing!
I went through the Clothes I Don't Want To Throw Out and Surely I Could Do Something With Them pile and found a pair of shorts that weren't really Millie's style and perhaps destined for Vinnies.
We don't really do Valentines Day in our house, but I thought it'd be sweet to make this and take Millie to Mr S' work and show her off.

Step 1: I lightly pressed the shirt and pinned the bows from the shorts on the sleeves. At this point I put a ballpoint needle into my machine, because I knew I'd get distracted and forget later on. A ballpoint needle is essential for stretch and knit fabrics.

 

Step 2: I cut the waistband off the shorts and cut through one of the leg seams, making one big piece of fabric. I ironed this to make it sit flat.

Step 3: Cut the shorts into roughly 1inch strips using a rotary cutter. It also appears I didn't take a photo of these strips. Run a gathering stitch all the way down the centre of the strips and pull the bobbin thread to make cute little ruffly strips. A gathering stitch is just the longest stitch your machine can make.

Step 4: I wanted a heart shape on my shirt so I arranged the strips into a heart shape just see how it'd look. Cute as a button, that's how it will look.

Step 5: Realise that Millie has decided to only take a tiny nap this morning, not a sleep as is her usual pattern. Bring her out to the sewing room and give her a box to play with.

Step 6: Wonder what that sound is and realise that Millie is eating the cardboard box. Stop pinning, remove box from child's tiny person and give her a Cruskit instead. Back to pinning. Wonder why Millie didn't sleep that long and also acknowledge that you can hear her whinging to herself.

Step 7: I pinned the outer layer of the heart into place, then using a stretch stitch on my machine I stitched through the centre of the heart ruffle all around the shape. Realise baby is wiping soggy Cruskit all over the leg of my jeans as I'm pressing the machine foot.

Step 8: I then stopped and realised I'd sewn part of the shirt together. Unpick and keep going.

Step 9: See how great it looks?

 Step 10: I pinned the next layer of ruffles in place and carefully sewed around, this time taking care not to sew the shirt together.

Step 11: Make sure you use the right needle weight for what you're doing. I learned this the broken bent needle hard way.

Step 12: Have a break because baby has been super patient but now needs a cuddle. Realise she has been whinging because she's come down with a sudden cold. Runny nose and temperature. Sad face.

Step 13: Pin the last layer of ruffles into place and sew sew sew!

Hoorah!

Step 14: Hand stitch the bows in place and know that hand stitching is work of the devil.

Step 15: Admire your handiwork. Finish your cup of coffee and wipe the baby's nose again.

Step 16: Ask Millie to kindly model your creation. I understand that there are some babies that sit still? I do not have one of these. Enjoy my blurry photography.

I'm remarkably proud of myself and want to show this off to everyone. I am no longer afraid of cotton knit fabric and will not attempt all manner of knit projects. YOU DON'T NEED TO HEM KNIT FABRIC. I KNOW, amazing right?

Babyproofing. Or... not.

Pre-Millie our house was pretty much the most child-unsafe house I think one could imagine. Well, we don't have glass stairs and pointy door handles, or several bags of drugs on the floor next to baby bottles of coca-cola, so I imagine there's possibly worse.
I look at photos of the day before Millie was born and there's a tiny space of coffee table top amongst the magazines, remotes, crochet needles, cups, mugs and steak knives. Now, there's a wooden coaster on the coffee table. That's it.
The good bit about baby-proofing a house is that it doesn't happen immediately. When she first started sitting up we moved a few things. When she stood up, the coffee table got cleaned off, and the first row of CDs in the CD cabinet. Then the second. Then Mr S built some dowel rods to hold the CDs in place.

'This one's crap. Put The Knife on please.'

She promptly pulled the dowel rods out. And waved them around like not-so-tiny swords. But she seems to have forgotten about them for now, thankfully. There's bigger fish to fry, like eating cat food or opening doors.

We've got rubber hands on kitchen cabinet handles, a two handed childproof lock on our under-the-kitchen-sink door handles, door opener stopper things and plastic doovamawackas in our power points. (side note: I have no idea why I'm not employed as a product namer. These companies are missing out on my expermatisenhausen.)
But we are still a bit crap at babyproofing. And by we, I mean me. Mr S is constantly running around saying 'Amy! Scissors on the edge on the table!' 'Amy! You left the cupboard open. Again.' 'Amy! Stop leaving your vodka open on the floor!' (one of these is untrue.)
I don't know why, I think perhaps I'm not mindful enough of what I'm doing at any given time. Because I'm always thinking about the next thing, or when my next cup of coffee is. (Right now, thanks.)
There's a few schools of thought on babyproofing, and Mr S & I probably fall in the middle of a lot of them. Our house is not sterile, and does not have pillows strapped to our TV table like other houses I've seen. Millie's favourite daytime activity is to rearrange our shoes by the front door, occasionally stopping for a taste. Sketchers=yum.
I know, I know. Shoes are dirty. But I've decided that we pick and choose our battles.
Oven=hot. Toilet=dirty. Shoes=better than oven or toilet.
We have no desire to stop our house looking like grown ups live here, or to have our entire house baby proofed with cushions, bubble wrap and packing tape.
At my sister's wedding I watched her mate's little 18 month old run around the reception venue talking to people and having a grand old time. No trouble, no fuss. I was heavily pregnant and asked her mate what it was like having a toddler. (read: OH MY GOD. HOW WILL I HAVE A TODDLER?)
He explained to me that the best thing he thought they did was teach their daughter about what you can and can't touch in your own house, without babyproofing EVERYTHING or letting them have free rein to trash your house. He thought that by doing this it would mean that they could go somewhere else and feel relaxed about their daughter playing in other people's houses. He said it's worked for them. It's a great philosophy and Mr S and I have adapted that to a degree.
Things still get broken and eaten. She dropped a distortion pedal on Mr S' beautiful new guitar a few weeks ago... what a scratch. She ate some family photos. She's tried to eat cat food, tissues, the tv remotes... actually you name it, she's tried.
My lesson for the week is to pay more attention before I leave the room and ask myself 'What would a champion baby-proofer do?'.
Tell me champion baby-proofers - what is your advice for me?

Parenthood. Part 1/3.

I've been watching a comment feed unfold on a blog I follow and I'm really shocked with the way that I've seen these women talk to each other. I've been typing replies for days but never quite getting up the nerve to reply - the inner 15 year old in me can't handle the way I'm certain these women would rip me to shreds. I think I'm the most sad because these women promote their parenting choices as intuitive and gentle... yet they're seemingly so judgemental and rude when an opinion doesn't match their beliefs.
In regards to the internet I've always believed that if you wouldn't say it to someone sitting next to you then perhaps it's not the best idea to post it on the internet.

Blogs are a public forum and by posting in a public forum there's always the possibility that someone won't agree with you, and by having a public forum the right of reply is open.

Since becoming a parent I've realised that every parent is really just parenting the best way they know how. The best way THEY believe. Does having done 'research' about sleep methods and schooling methods and eating methods and make you a better parent and give you the license to be rude to another human being? Because that's who is always at the other end of a keyboard, a human.
I think that every statement about parenting needs to be prefaced with 'I believe', 'I think' or 'I've found'.

I think Mia Freedman put the best disclaimer at the beginning of her blog comment feed:
'Comment Guidelines : Imagine this is a dinner party. Differences of opinion are welcome but keep it respectful or the host will show you the door. If you're rude or abusive, your comment will be deleted (so will comments responding to other rude comments because they won’t make sense - so save your breath). And if you’re offensive, you’ll be banned. Remember what Fonzie was like? Cool. That's how we're going to be - cool. Have fun and thanks for adding to the conversation...'

So on that note, would you turn to your dinner party companion and ask if she was neglected as a child after you've compared her to an animal? Would you suggest that the way they parent their kids is stunting their emotional growth? Would you suggest they do research and then come back and talk to you at someone else's dinner party? Would you say that their conversation was ridiculous?

I try to approach parenting with the idea that all parents need support and even though we mightn't agree with their decisions, we're all in this together. I think that's why it's called 'Parenthood'.

Do you think it's too rainbows and kittens for me to just want us to be kind to each other? What do you think about this?

edited to add It's been brought to my attention from a commenter that my referring to my noisy neighbours as Bogan Neighbours and my stories about them could be construed as hurtful if they were to read it. I am not infallible (much as I'd love to be) and once a week I have a First World Whinge with friends. If my neighbours were to knock on my door or I was to meet them in our driveways, I'd have no qualms with telling them precisely what I've written. And as I refer to myself as a Bogan Mummy I don't think this term is particularly hurtful.

Hoarders: Baby Edition.

I think I've finally cracked how to keep the high chair clean. It's quite simple, really.
Get someone else to feed the baby, in their house. Do you think that's a viable option?
Perhaps not.
Before Millie was born we were gifted a second hand Peg Perego Prima Pappa high chair. Beautiful padded seat, set on wheels, a great big tray. Gorgeous.

Mine is a blue/white check model.
image from pegperego.com

Then Millie started eating purees and it was ok. A good wipe afterwards and all seemed well.
As time went on, it turned into Millie swiping the spoon and sending puree flying all over the high chair tray. No biggie.
Then it turned in to 'YOU WILL NOT FEED ME. I DO IT MYSELF.' She can't talk yet, but I know that's what she said. So we give her finger food. I start scrubbing the high chair for a good 5 minutes after every feed to avoid the plague a build up of baby foods. Have you ever scrubbed for 5 minutes? It's a long time, especially if you hate cleaning as much as I do.

I took the padded cover off to give it a scrub and almost expired. It was like Hoarders: Baby Edition under there. Various... stains. A multitude of crumbs. There might have been some avocado stuck in there too. I was horrified. And embarrassed because I spend an inordinate amount of time scrubbing the blessed thing, only to have it look like this? Shame.

Millie's daycarer Kat has this brilliant high chair that has a tray that clips on and off, and I watched her clean that thing in 30 seconds flat. I got to thinking...

Ikea high chair?

Ikea Antilop High Chair.
image from ikea.com

Very nice. Tiny problem. No Ikea in Tasmania. And even worse? Only $20 for a high chair. Hrmph. Want.

I do some research online and find that there's not very many plastic only high chairs around. Millie and I go to Big W to look at high chairs and find that there's not much of a selection there either. I check out Target as well - still no dice. Parents everywhere seem to be of the opinion that Padded and Fancy is better. IT'S A TRICK EVERYONE. DON'T FALL UNDER THE GLORIOUSLY SHINY PADDED SPELL.

I look at the Big W online site and find this little number in an online only sale.

Mother's Choice Geo Grow With Me highchair
image from productreview.com.au

It has two high chair height settings and converts into a toddler chair. Mine for $40 plus delivery. The cover does come off, but it's pretty easy to clean so I've left it on for now. The tray slides on and off too and it super easy to wash with the dishes and leave to dry.
I'm still cleaning it obsessively, because I figure I've started with a clean high chair slate... let's not let it get dirty eh? It works beautifully and Millie seems to sit up a lot straighter in it too. I love it.
Now, the delivery was $16 to my part of the world... but I broke it down justified the crap out of it like this:

• Drive to Hobart - $6 petrol each way
• Pay for parking in the CBD - $5
• Schlep Millie across the CBD - $5 in coffee for me to re energise after carrying the 9kg Millie
• Schlep Millie and the high chair box back to car - $4 in chocolate for me as a reward for carrying the high chair box and Millie
• Drive home with a potentially grumpy baby who may or may not scream for 45 kilometres - priceless

So you see - online shopping is cheaper.

Thus ends my high chair rant of the week.

What sort of high chair do you use? What do you think of it?

FFS Friday / Shiny Things Friday

Let the first world whinging commence!

• A few weeks ago I was vacuuming with the fourth love of my life, our Bissell Pet Hair Vac, with an angry Millie on my back when I caught my trackpants in the vacuum turbo head. So powerful is the turbo head that I feared I'd never get my pants out if I turned it off. So I precariously bent over, yanked them out and kept vacuuming. Then I realised my leg was a little warm. Hmm. Trackpants seem to be warm to the touch and a little, er, shredded. Then there's this smell. I worry that the vacuum is on fire inside so I unplug it and put it outside. (No flies on me eh? Fire? PUT IT OUTSIDE. Right.) Then I remember that last year whilst painting our bedroom I got polyfilla on my trackpants. Which is now smeared around the ankle of my shredded trackpants. No biggie. So it melted a little.
• Fast forward to last week when I'm vacuuming and Mr S is holding the vacuum-allergic Millie and there's this smell again. Mr S, the most sensible person in my house, demands I turn it off so he can have a look at it. Turns out that the polyfilla melted onto the turbo head and stripped one edge of the turbo brush. So it doesn't turn any more. And is er.. melting. He asked what happened. Well...
• He gets another turbo head ordered under warranty (Thank you Bissell! It's true, we did do it ourselves voiding the warranty, but we're honest like that and Mr S told you, so for our honesty you rewarded us with no charge parts. Thank you!) and ten days later it arrived. In the meantime my stick vac was not cutting the mustard and the floors were absolutely awful. How could I tell? The baby was covered in dust, cat hair and cruskits every time she went on the floors. FFS.
• I have now vacuumed thoroughly and I feel much calmer. What's wrong with me? I feel like a grown up. FFS.
• I ordered a pair of Fiskars Pinking Shears from the USA weeks ago because they were $30 cheaper. The United States Postal Service tracking service tells me that my parcel was processed at their Chicago office on January 26th. That's the last known location. FFS.
• It's Millie's birthday oh so shortly and it's taken me weeks to decide where to have it. Now I feel a smidge guilty because my Mummy friends are having THEMED parties. My online mother's group were discussing their theme ideas:
  'We're doing rainbows!'
  'We're doing butterflies!'
  'We're doing balls and we're going to have a giant ball pit for the kids to play in!'
  I was all 'I guess I'll make a cake? I'll give her some wrapping paper to play with too.'
  Bogan Mummy-Fail. FFS.
• I watched a policewoman stay in the overtaking lane for about 10 kilometres yesterday on the highway, long after I'd overtaken her and merged carefully, doing the speed limit back in to my lane. I wondered why. Then we hit a 15 min roadwork delay where the right hand lane got to merge push in front of the left hand lane to get ahead. AND I watched her not keep up with the flow of traffic because she was playing TapFish no doubt with her mobile phone. FFS.

Shiny Things Friday
I decided to start sewing Millie some clothes. I can't really afford or justify paying for new fancy clothes for her to just grow out of really quickly, and I love sewing... so I thought I'd give it a whirl.
This is based on a tutorial from the most amazing website ever, Craftiness Is Not Optional, and it's the LoveBird Tunic pattern.
It came together super quickly and didn't use much fabric at all. I've amended the pattern I had to make (yes! you MAKE your own pattern. I feel very smug.) so when I make it again the changes I want to make will hopefully happen. I'm super proud of myself and she looks so adorable in it, despite her face in most of these pics.

I made Millie a shirt. Here are the ensuing attempts  at a photo...

NO PHOTOS. NO. NO. NO.

I made a self cover button for the back of it.

I'm in love with my mad rick-rack skillz here.

This photo is awesome. Why?
She's standing up by herself, not holding on to anything.
As soon as she realised she sat down straight away.

We went to see Colin Hay. And had wine. The concert was amazing,
save the uber-bogans behind us who eventually got kicked out.
He's an amazing story teller and SO funny. I loved it!

We then went to North Hobart and had drinks and cake.
This is what the city looks like after 5pm huh? I'd forgotten.

We had a BBQ with friends in the Cascade Gardens on
Monday evening. It was so lovely!

My two favourite people.

I get excited when I get messages like this from Skye.

THIS IS WHY. So yummy! I think it's a plum honey cake. 

We peered in to our neighbours yard this morning to find
it full of sheep. I guess the sheep broke down the fences...
if you look closely you can see a tiny black cat mid centre of this pic.
It was just staring at the ram...

Now I have Sarah's mobile number I can now chat with her harass her via three mediums. Emails that turn in to essays (sorry!), tweets and texts for things too rude for Twitter. So far she's still talking to me. Phew.

Go and say hello to the lovely lady herself over here!

FFS Friday / Shiny Things Friday

Let the first world whinging commence!

• It was 39 degrees celcius at my house on Sunday. Uncool. There's a reason we choose to live 42degrees south. FFS.
• In this heat Mr S called me to the window and asked me to pick what was wrong with this picture. After we ascertained that I was not looking for a snake outside I noticed that the Bogan Neighbours had their fire on. It was 36 degrees at this point. What?! FFS.
• At the tender age of 10 months Millie has managed to chip her front tooth. After the extensive orthodontia Mr S and I have both been on the pointy end of we hoped that Millie would have nice teeth until teendom. FFS.
• I made an appointment with the local chiro for next week. It's been months since I went, and let's face it, carrying around a 9kg baby for a lot of a day tends to mess with your back. No problems when I booked the appointment, but the very next day it became obvious that something is really really wrong with my back and neck. 5 days to go. FFS.
• Millie has taken to mimicking behaviour. 90% of the time this is ace. The other 10% of the time was when she threw a full blown 3 year old tantrum after a 3 year old threw the same tantrum at our house the day before. Thank jeebus she's only done this once so far. FFS.
• I took Millie to a BBQ on Saturday and we had a great time. I was flustered when we left, and wondered for 20km if I'd turned the iron off. So I turned around and drove 20km home to find that of course, yes, I had turned the iron off. Thank you anxiety. The beauty of this was Millie slept the entire time. FFS.
• After spending my days scrubbing the high chair I took the plastic cushion out last night. We are in a land of Hard Plastic now. When I took the insert out I almost vomited. It was like Hoarders: Baby Edition. FFS.
• My immobiliser keyring for my car seems to be on the way out. Handsome James is 16 years old this year, so I can't be too upset that it's on the way out. However, I don't know how to turn the immobiler off manually so to do it with the keyring works if I twirl my right hand in a fancy 80's dance move. In the supermarket car park, in the parking garage, in the street. FFS.
• I have absolutely no musical ambition at the moment. Poof! It's gone. I'm not sure where. But I think I want to keep playing my instruments... I'm struggling a bit hearing about my contemporaries playing nice gigs, getting picked up by national radio stations and advancing their careers, usually when I'm changing a dirty nappy or listening to Norwegian Throat Singing at 5pm in the afternoon. That's the weird part, I don't want to play in dirty pubs at midnight anymore, I don't want to chase crappily paid gigs, I don't want to travel up and down the eastern seaboard every four weeks to play in dirty pubs in other states to people who don't want to listen and not make any money doing it and I'm petrified about standing up in front of crowds again. For the longest time I was a Professional Musician. Now... I'm not. Why does this bother me so goddamn much? Alain de Botton, what do you say about this? FFS.

Shiny Things
I won two tickets to see Colin Hay at the Theatre Royal tomorrow night. On Twitter. I don't actually remember entering, but I'm stoked! Millie's family daycarer has offered to look after her for a bottle of wine (yessss) so Mr S and I will BE ALONE. As in, CHILDLESS. IN TOWN. SEEING LIVE MUSIC. I'm almost fainting with excitement.

I bought Millie a new car seat a few weeks ago. Hers was second hand and manufactured more than ten years ago and there's a safety issue blah blah. I got a cheap one in a Target sale and it turned up last Friday. It's a HiPod Milan and I refer to it as Millie's Pimpin New Ride. It's got a shade canopy (cannot use, it blocks the blind spot) and a toy bar (cannot use, only for rearward facing), but it's so deliciously plush and new. It has a Messy Mat (tm) that goes underneath the seat to catch the food and alcohol bottles and the whole thing is entirely washable. It's so awesome.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar counting book is
Millie's favourite right now. She likes to nom the caterpillar!

Finished bag for a special lady. Wait, did I show this on Tuesday?
Whatevs. How awesome does it look?

Edumacation.
Millie was fascinated by the record, and danced to Time After Time.
Attagirl.

Perverse I know, but I really wanted to write rude things in this box.

Weetbix is her favourite. Look at those hands!

Sarah threatened to drunk text me.
This is what a non-drunkenly texted phone looks like.
She one-glassed texted me instead.

Link up over here and say hi to Sarah too.