Hoochiemumma

Personal Blog

Author: admin

Hashtag Grateful

admin

It’s really easy to write a list about things which annoy. As I have grown older, my list has grown longer.

What an old bag I’m turning into.

We all have little things (and big things) that drive us mental. Audible chewing, for example is enough to send me into a psychotic rage. If I’m ever found guilty of stabbing someone, mark my words it will be because I could hear them chewing and/or swallowing.

Lately I’ve also found myself saying “what the fuck is wrong with people?” A LOT. Seriously.. is it me or has the population if idiots tripled in the last 6 months?

I decided that instead of writing another ranty post listing all of the things that are wrong in the world, I’ve written a list of all the things I love instead. I’m taking the high road.. the road less travelled. Today, I’m the positive poster. I know… I will soon be burning incense, singing Kumbaya and telling everyone how #blessed I am for my #journey.

I could have rattled off a million more things. It’s surprising what being #positive and #grateful does.

Top list of lovable stuff in no particular order…  

  • People who don’t over-use #blessed #journey #grateful #positive
  • Silent eaters. Let’s keep the stabbing to a minimum.
  • Friends and family…cause where would we be without them? Goes without saying really.
  • People who listen when you talk. Like REALLY LISTEN. They listen to understand, not just to reply. (I think I’ve ripped off a quote)… But you people are the bees knees, the ducks nuts, the cats pyjamas.
  • Aussie slang sayings. They are THE BEST. When the meaning for “that’s unfortunate” or “that surprises me” can be summed up by “Fuck me dead” you realise we really are living in the lucky country. Deadset, youse don’t know how lucky youse are. #straya
  • When people’s actions follow their words. People who walk the walk better than they talk the talk.
  • Middle of the road stretch denim. Let’s keep some things a secret shall we?
  • Science. I love science and smart people who do the science. Our lives and our planet literally rely on these people.
  • Also…. the people who know that the internet isn’t a place to try and scare others and debunk the science. Cause that’s not science. That’s being a dumb shit. Go debunk it with smarter science, not just opinions about the science.
  • The ability of grown adults to have a debate without making it personal or attacking others. That’s called adulting. It bemuses me that we hold our children to higher standards than our governments.
  • Purple Zooper Doopers.
  • Those that speak out and shake up the world. I love the bravery of boat rockers.
  • People who make you think differently and open your eyes to a new perspective.
  • Champagne with lots of bubbles, no other reason than I just like champagne… with lots of bubbles.
  • Laughing. A lot. And often.
  • Goodnight kisses on the lips from my baby boy because I know a time will come that the last pucker will be pecked.
  • Air-conditioning because where did Spring go?…Sweet lord turn down the sun please.
  • Napping and a good pyjama. Need I say more.
  • Podcasts. Podcasts. Podcasts. Cannot get enough of a good pod.
  • Random compliments. Aren’t they the best? Instead of eyeing off the gorgeous shoes or admiring someone’s smarts, talents or generosity, I try and speak it. Doesn’t always happen, but it feels good no matter if you give it or receive it.

There are so many more things I could add to this random list of good stuff, but I must add that I love the people who have read this to the end the most… thanks!

M

 

Social spring clean. An irrational rant.

admin

Look, I don’t want to offend anybody, but for the love of god please save me from the workout posts that I see. And food. Stop the food posts. Unless it’s sharing a delicious recipe, or an even better restaurant… just SHUT UP AND STOP IT.

There, I’ve said it.

And I ain’t the first.

Don’t get me wrong though. Running a marathon? You post that shit everywhere and I’ll cheer you over the line. Hit a PB in anything from lifting weights to swimming an extra lap or walking that extra km… post on my friend. But seriously… what’s with the daily bullshit conceited elitist crap of “look at me, I wear expensive workout shit and talk fancy workout talk while in my overpriced sneakers and I’m so cool and you’re so not cool and please like my selfie where I do boring things that a lot of people do all the time.”

Honestly, it’s as interesting as someone posting about cleaning their house.

Everyone does it, some ignore it for long periods of times, some are daily cleaners, some are weekly cleaners, some are obsessed about it, some do a better job than others, some make a living out of it and some even hire it out and don’t do it at all. Ugh.

I’ve questioned where this rage against the workout machine has come from.  Am I envious? Am I triggered because I’m unfit? Am I insecure? Am I just a bitch? Am I old and sick of everyone’s crap? Is it hormones? Maybe it’s Maybelline? I dunno, but it shits me off more than the British chick on the home shopping channel selling Thin Lizzy concealer….We get it Suzanne…It’s magic in a tube.

And then I realised that I just need to get more savvy with my social media feed and press “unfollow” and not be such a jerk. No one is making me watch this crap except me. So I had a little clean up and wouldn’t you know it, just like a good spring clean, it feels glorious!

With that being said, I might throw on my Kmart tights with my husbands old t-shirt, waddle down the road while escaping death from the dive bombing maggie’s and clear my cranky mind. Or I might not. You will NEVER KNOW.

Have I just done an exercise post?

Would that be irony or hypocrisy you reckon?

Rant over. As you were people.

M

It’s a pod life for me..

admin

Business, Cable, Close-Up, Design

I’m always a bit off trend and late to the party….This may explain why I started a blog when blogging is dying and only discovered the glory of the podcast in the last year or so.

I developed a slight obsession with all things crime in podcast land and for a while I had delusions that I would make a kick arse investigative journalist or an equally kick arse serial killer.

It all depended on my mood.

Despite this disturbing discovery, I also found out that I get bored pretty quickly so I have a podcast love list as varied and high as the stack of books next to my bed that I haven’t read yet.

Some fellow podcast loving friends and I share some pod-recommendations with each other, and I received one recently which I loved.

There is nothing better than reading or hearing something that unravels your own thoughts and transforms them into a word opera. I think that’s why some of us feel compelled to share quotes. We read something that puts our thoughts into poetic words that we can’t conger up ourselves.

The podcast I’m sharing has a bit of a cheesy name, but if you can get past that, this episode touches on a lot of important topics including living a life of purpose, mental health, social media  and chasing happiness. It mainly speaks about the concept of resilience and how we can achieve that through gratitude, empathy and mindfulness.

These are the buzz words of our time and they get bandied around so much I sometimes switch off to it and eye roll, but it’s good stuff and these concepts remind me to stay grounded, focus on what’s important and to keep life simple and uncomplicated. The dude being interviewed is Hugh van Cuylenburg and has been in the media as the founder of the Resilience Project.

Resilience is a word I use a lot. It’s something I try to be. It’s something I want our children to learn. I also think it’s the key to coping with life’s ups and downs and it’s definitely a skill that can be taught. There’s an energy about people who have and display resilience, in all of its definitions. They ooze a quiet self assuredness, and despite what gets chucked in their way, they seem to soldier through and know that they will be ok.

As deep and meaningful as all of that sounds… I also listen to total trash which is hilarious and wrong but oh so right at the same time.

Maybe I should post a “pod-recommendo of the week”, and if you’re not a podcast lover, maybe you’ll become one because they are THE BEST! They make laundry and long drives a whole heap more enjoyable.

Speaking of which… I’m off to plug in and tackle Mt Washington.

Ps. Any other pod cast listeners who may be reading my twaddle please please share your favourites.

M

Clickity Click to listen….

https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/a-life-of-greatness/id1457268944?i=1000434389752

It’s a lotto life.

admin

This is one for those who set out on a family making expedition and found themselves travelling a path they weren’t expecting.

Who knows what you’re going to get when you embark upon making people.

It’s an exciting lotto.

Most of us know that there is a risk of things going wrong, but thousands of perfectly healthy children are born every year. Why wouldn’t we have one too? When the scans come back with the all clear and you’ve hit the “safe zone” it’s smooth sailing until d-day. And once that baby is in your arms you’re home and hosed right? Or are you?

Sometimes that’s not the case.

I’ve spent a fair amount of time in hospital with our teen who was born with Cystic Fibrosis.

Throughout these years I’ve met a lot of parents going through some horrendous stuff. Usually I’d be making myself a shitty cup of tea when I would meet some fellow hospital parents. The parent room is like a prison yard where by the time you’ve run into the same people for more that a couple of days, one of you inevitably ends up asking “so… what are you in for?”

Some of the parents I have met didn’t know what was wrong with their child. Their exhaustion was palpable with worry strewn across their faces as they downloaded their stories in the moments between toasting bread and dipping tea bags.

These moments have definitely given me a deeper appreciation for the most simple things in life and I was often left in awe of their resilience.

Other parents I’ve met are frequent fliers, like me, supporting their child who is managing a chronic illness. We share the commonalities of having wandered these wards and passages. We share the gratefulness of the brilliant care our children receive, as well as frustrations of finding car parks and being woken by beeping machines. We long for the time to pass quickly and for the treatment to work. We count down the days until we can go home, knowing that we’ll be back again at some point in time doing it all again. Despite this, I often feel grateful that I know what we are “in for”.

In the early years, when we were in the trenches of managing a baby in hospital, I read a poem that was stuck to the wall next to the fridge. I was feeling a bit fragile that this was our life and hadn’t become used to the roller coaster ride of chronic illness.

The poem below was written for parents of children born with a disability, but I think it resonates for all of us who embarked upon this child making caper and didn’t quite get what we ordered.

So here’s to all of us, who not only kick the arse of parenting, but also have extra challenges along the road of parenthood.

M

 

Just Jokin’ Love

admin

I found myself arguing with idiots on the internet. I know… WTF was I thinking? I turned into this sour puss.

Typing Working GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

It was kinda fun for a minute until it was just pointless. I was on the South Aussie with Cosi page pointing out that he is a nice bloke but misses the mark when it comes to living in the 21st century with some of the things he posts. He made a dumb joke about the winner of a competition for show tickets, who happened to have the last name Hore. Anyway… I stated the obvious bad taste but his supporters, who were mostly male, lined up to point out that “it’s a joke”.. “lighten up” blah blah blah.

Well…. I say NO NO NO. I won’t lighten up. I was on the tail end of Psycho Sunday and was a bit pissed at the kids so wrote something about the women I know who have sported this name would more than likely want to rip him a new arsehole and shove the winning tickets up there while they were at it. Harshly poetic, and gross, but fairly accurate I would envisage.

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best time to jump on social media and find some adults to argue with who are more ignorant than the kids.

However…..

Living in the country and being a woman of my generation this stuff used to be EVERYWHERE. It didn’t occur to me to mind in my younger years. It was something we just dealt with. We copped it on the chin, cause “it’s just a joke love”.

Like many women, I have spent most of my life laughing off lame sexist jokes, excusing misogynist remarks, and not making waves or speaking up when my blood would boil listening to bogan idiots be sexist twats all for the sake of a joke.

I’ve overheard the “geez I’d like a piece of that arse”’comments from the 40 something year old married man, ogling over the 18year old girl.  I’ve also listened on and even laughed nervously as men “jokingly” put their wives down to somehow try and appear more manly.

God forbid I should speak up and cause a man to feel uncomfortable and offend them if I pointed this out. So I didn’t. But I do now.

There is definitely a shift toward positive change and there are some wonderful men out there just being, you know, normal decent humans. But there’s still the old bangers who think the women speaking up are just whingers who are easily offended. We’re man haters and feminists who don’t shave our armpits. We’re bitches because we speak our minds and won’t take shit from men who should know better. Or men who should at least apologise when it’s pointed out, rather than turn it around and tell us to “lighten up” and get over ourselves.

Sadly, some of these men are raising children and have a wife who has to swallow that shit every day.

Mr Hooch has at times pointed out that perhaps I’m a bit harsh or “full on” when it comes to this, and I can see his point. Maybe I hit the dickhead alert button a bit quickly. No one is perfect. We all make mistakes and we’re sometimes the result of the generation of which we were raised. But when you know better…don’t you try and do better? Luckily I married a good one who has an open mind and can see my point of view. It’s the good men that need to speak up and pull the reigns in on the misguided ones who think that this stuff is still OK – it just “what blokes do”. However, getting that to happen is a whole new battle that is as deep as it is wide.

In saying all of this, I’m all for a good joke. I love nothing more than clever humour, but not when it crosses a line. It’s a blurry line, because some of the best humour comes when it’s teetering on it’s edge. I just can’t find the funny when it comes to belittling others or being obviously offensive, especially to the already marginalised.

And yeah… in 2019 women are still marginalised.

Bet our sisters who burnt their bras in the 60’s are pissed off.

So I have declared that there will be no more ranty commenting from me on social media.

Well… not until the next Psycho Sunday hits anyway.

M

It takes a village…

admin

 

They say it takes a village to raise a child and not a truer word has been spoken. I think a ‘village’ can mean many things though. It can mean family, friends, local community and the world wide community too. It encompasses child care, schools, health & community services and governments.

Sometimes the ‘village’ isn’t always as tangible. Connections that can evoke a sense of belonging without it being a formalised service or a particular person or group can also be part of our village. Sometimes we can find the sense of a ‘village’ through random connections.

Recently I’ve had some really great chats with some awesome women about more than just the usual “what-cha-been-up-to” kind of stuff.

There’s so much I could write about, but what I took out of these pleasantly random conversations was that as women and mothers, although we are on our own paths, we are all sailing the same seas. We are sitting in our boats, holding our trusty oars and rowing like friggen champions.

We are all heading toward the same destination, but our challenges are unique. However, you can always count on the fact that someone you know is on the same trip, or has travelled those seas before you. There is also a lot to be learned from the ones who haven’t sailed yet, or who never will.

I don’t really know what I am trying to say but I have stretched the ‘sailing on the sea’ analogy way beyond it’s use as well as my knowledge of nautical things.

I guess what I want to write is that I really enjoy and appreciate connecting with other women who are open and real. Women who let their guard down a bit, and who talk honestly about their experiences are the bees knees.

We have so much to offer when we are a little vulnerable. We symbolically wrap our arms around each other at those times. We have the “oh yeah, me too” moments. We share the wisdom of seas already sailed (I’m back in my row-boat) and by surrounding ourselves with women of these kind, we create our own village where the symbolic arms are open, the ears are ready and the stories flow as freely as the wine.

If you’re lucky enough to have found some villagers of your own, hang on to them tight. They are your light house. They are your compass in troubled waters and will guide you home to terra firma.

 

Ps. That was a lot of sea sailing talk from someone who has the urge to throw up standing on a pontoon.


Thanks for reading…


M

 

 

 

 

Load me up.

admin

I read an article the other day about the “mental load” of parenthood. There’s been a lot written about Mental Load over the past few years. The author got absolutely slammed by some readers because she was complaining. There were comments about it being “her choice to have children”, and it’s “just life.. so get on with it”. The ‘working vs stay at home parent’ comparison even slipped in there too. It was disappointing to read the comments because firstly…where’s the sisterhood gone? and secondly…I totally related to what was written.

Surely I’m not the Lone Ranger?

The mental load-ees of the world keep track of all the small details of everyone’s everything. We are the buyers of undies, clipper of nails and makers of appointments. We schedule our lives around the sports practice, music lessons, excursions, parties and sleepovers. We juggle every family members schedule in our heads for the next week as we lay awake at night simultaneously questioning if we’ve forgotten something and when we last washed the sheets. We ponder if we are doing a good job with this ‘raising people’ gig and whether or not swearing at them has caused psychological damage.. (ok… maybe that’s just me?)

This is why Fridays are so freakishly good. Even though the Patron Saint of Agony ‘Saturday morning sport’ is looming, Fridays are a chance to leave the mental load behind. However, there comes a moment on Sunday afternoon where we start to gather up the mental load and pile it back into our brains like stuffing dirty clothes into a washing machine.

It doesn’t always come down to the mum of the house who carries the mental load but here in the Hooch house, since I made a choice to leave paid work, it seems the mental load plus all the god-damned washing has landed back in my lap again. (Sorry for the laundry references… I have issues 🤦‍♀️).

As much as Mr Hooch is pretty cool, (and even packs lunchboxes) he would be the first to admit that I’ve done the heavy lifting in the ‘mental load of the family’ department. Sometimes he likes to pop in his two cents worth. It’s not always appreciated. Like the time I was busily wrapping a gift and getting Junior Hooch ready to go his friend’s birthday party, he breezed in and asked “have you bought a card?”

Ahem…. Are you fucking kidding me? This, coming from someone who has never got any of the children ready for a birthday party, let alone BUY A CARD.
This is the equivalent of me strolling down the farm yard and questioning him if he’d checked the sheep this morning? Fuck Off….And make it quick. You’re adding to my load.

So to those of you who, like me, sometimes feel overwhelmed by the weight of our loads, I hope you have the chance to take a breath and celebrate your magical gloriousness.

And if you need to have a little whinge now and again, feel free to give me a call, because the world simply wouldn’t turn without us.

M

Ready, set, lift off.

admin

I did it… threw caution to the wind. I changed my mind many times about whether I should start a blog or not, cause it feels a bit wanky or something, but I figure I’ll be lucky if anyone chooses to read my drivel, so here I am. Plus, I think blogs are dying. I was never very good at keeping up with trends.

I enjoy writing little stories about the quirks of life and finding humour in the everyday mundane. I also like to do a fair bit of whingeing it seems.. mainly about laundry, the children and crappy internet. I’m fairly partial to a feminist rant from time to time and also sharing some other random thoughts that run through my head. I think you’re meant to have a plan when you blog. Like a topic and stick to it. A niche. I think this applies to blogs that have an audience so I’m pretty safe.

Also, this will be a little bit of me left for my kids. Something to read when they’re older, and possibly sue me for.

There’s something to be said for reading words that your parents have written and hearing stories from the past. With both of my parents now dead and gone, I treasure the words left behind. Unfortunately I don’t have many. Mum only really left recipes.. ironically she wasn’t a fan of culinary pursuits. The bits I treasure though are the side notes of changes she made. She wrote those instructions like they were for someone else. I can’t imagine she would have ever forgotten the fact that the slice she made year after year didn’t need the whole packet of coffee biscuits. It’s noted on the side to “leave 4 behind” in the crushing phase, just the same.

My dad certainly had a way with words. He had a colourful palette to say the least, but mostly, he loved a ‘big word’ that no one knew the meaning of and he loved using that word whenever he could. In his hey day he mainly wrote “letters to the editor”, ranting about the misjustice of the latest local topic. He scribbled a few entries in a diary I once found and some fairly funny commentary on the back of old photos, but besides that, the colourful language and big fancy words left when he did.

Just recently though I found, amongst a pile of memorabilia, the last letter my nanna wrote to my mum. On the worn and torn edge of the envelope was written “mums last letter”. My mum had kept this treasured piece, scribed back in 1987. She lovingly tucked it away for safe keeping with newspaper clippings and old documents from a time gone by…… She held onto her mums words, her thoughts, her language. Written words are something to go back to and re read. They’re a gentle reminder of who someone was, what they cared about and their voice can be ‘heard’ just one more time.

Funnily enough in my nanna’s last letter, she whinged about how long it took to get the washing dry and something about needing Aloe Vera cream.

She was also a red head. Maybe apples don’t fall that far from the tree after all.

M