Once a week my husband, my 6 month old baby and I go for a walk somewhere in Perth.
Most times it’s around the block. But other times it’s by the river, or by the beach. It really depends on our moods, the weather, what’s planned in evening. Andrew usually comes home early so that we can catch some sunshine together, but being winter, we’ve found ourselves walking home in the dark and cold a few times. Oops. I guess it’s hard to catch daylight hours when the sun sets at around 5:30pm.
Anyway, so the other evening we’re walking around the block chatting about other people’s gardens and trying to spy over fences. It was quite amusing and harmless, until Andrew spotted a funky geranium plant. Yes, that’s right.
Now I usually hate geranium plants. Ugh. They are so ugly. And their leaves smell weird. But this particular plant was covered with the most amazingly coloured HOT PINK flowers. It was like crazy vivid neon gay punk fuchsia. It was like God was playing a joke. Or he forgot to desaturate the magenta.
It was just so crazy that Andrew decided that he wanted it.
Ok, I don’t know how many horticulturists are reading — but apparently you can break a stem off a geranium plant, stick it in the ground and it’ll start to grow. Personally I think it’s kinda creepy (in a ‘tried to kill the monster by hacking it up into little pieces, but they all grew back into even bigger monsters’ kinda way), but hey, I’m just a designer.
So since Andrew was holding the baby… I ended up having to sneak around trees, creep behind letter boxes, dodge the garden gnomes, duck my head under branches and snap off a single geranium stem. It was my criminal act for the year.
So here it is 5 days later. I took all the leaves off the stem, stuck it in a glass of water for a few days, watched some cute little leaves sprout from it, then stuck it into potting mix, and now it’s doing great. I think it’s so cute.
Bought a t-shirt yo.
A few days ago, my husband started the last of our home renovation projects : re-tiling the bathroom.
It was very satisfying watching him pull off the crusty black tiles, the shoddy vanity, the mouldy shower screen, and all the taps and spouts. But our bathroom is a bloody construction site now. Dust covers the floor, cement chunks are everywhere, bricks crumbling off the walls, pipes dripping, and strange olive green & pink paint exposes the true colour trends of the 50’s.
He left the bathtub in. Bless him. So at least we didn’t have to hose ourselves down in the backyard each evening.
Now, most girls I know just LOVE baths. Meh. I’m not crazy about them. They’re ok. They’re a bit of a hassle. Who knows how a girl is supposed to wash her hair in a tub full of dirty water. In fact, after 4 days of swirling around in my own grime… I doubt I’m very clean at all.
The most disturbing thing about all this, is the fact that I have to brush my teeth over our kitchen sink. And my apricot exfoliating facial scrub sits above the sink next to my Morning Fresh dishwashing detergent. It’s so weird.
Perth has seen a FLOOD of reality renovation tv shows. Renovating a shit-hole house seems to be cool and trendy now. And everyone I meet is talking about how they dream of ‘buying an old house to do it up’. Despite all the creative + money saving arguments for the idea, I reckon it’s all just shit. I’d rather go on holiday and pay someone else to do it.
I was 12. And I was going through my tom-boy phase.
My little sister and all my other little girly cousins went to the chemist to get their ears pierced. Pffft. Earrings are sissy.
They’d swap and share their plastic-bauble ones, fluoro-rubber ones, hippy-beady ones. Star-shaped, square-shaped, teddybear-shaped. Christmas, halloween, valentines. Ugh.
I couldn’t think of anything more boring.
So it’s 13 years later. And I’ll be honest. There’s nothing more than having a baby to inspire oneself to be young, be sexy and goddamnit, live a little. So this weekend I’m going to get my ears pierced!
I guess I never got around to getting them done.
Because by the time I turned 16, I discovered boys…
AND I discovered how they would go into a nibbling frenzie at the mere mention of “virgin ears”. Laugh.
Yup, so in the past few weeks I’ve been on countless shopping missions to find some earrings. Some niiice long dangly ones. I bought 3 pairs. They were a bit expensive, but hey. A girl must accessorise.
Wow. My baby is 3.5 months and I haven’t done any design work in ages!
The idea of me creating 5 design concepts in 3 hours seems soooo far away. Screen layouts and final concepts. Feels like an eternity ago! Deadlines, invoices, timesheets. In a previous life!
I’m almost scared to try, in case I discover that I’ve lost the ability to use that part of my brain. Or I’ve forgotten how to design, run a relatively savvy business AND be a hard-nosed career professional. It’s a scary thought.
Right now, my life is warm and fuzzy, in a world of Mr Spider, clapping songs and cloth nappies.
I guess it’s suddenly beginning to bug me. Having a kid at age 25, there are a few things I’ve had to come to terms with.
I’m having a hard time getting used to the fact that I’m not earning any money.
Each month passes and I wish that I could put a dollar value to the things I’ve done.
Not that it’s about the money. Rather, the worth of the work I’m doing. Because sometimes, when I’m in my trackies leaning over the laundry basin stirring a bucket of smelly nappies, I pause and think…
I find it hard to comprehend that I someone would pay me $50/hour for making silly graphical web banners, and NOTHING for this. I go back to stirring, slowly puzzling over which of the two is worse.
It also bugs me to watch the industry happily going about it’s business. Watching things change, trends move, technologies emerge. I feel like I’ve missed the bus or something.
I watch my colleagues and contemporaries develop and evolve. Their folios getting bigger. Experience ticking longer. I’m moving out of the loop so quickly. It scares me to think that I might be left on the corporate shelf.
On the other hand, I think I want a career change. I’d like to do something with a lot more soul. Something worthwhile, with purpose and value. I’d like to make a whole lot of good things happen.
I guess in the meantime I’ll be quite happy being a mum.
I feel awful! My flu has developed into a nasty head cold. I’m stuffed and clogged and snotty and grumpy and headachey — and bloody hell my taste buds don’t work!!!!
I feel like I’ve rubbed my tongue dry on cardboard. Or like I’m constantly sucking on an old sock. I kept adding salt to my dinner and sugar to my tea. I just can’t taste anything! It’s soooo weird.
I ate half a packet of Caramel Tim Tams, before I realised that I was wasting them. My brain wasn’t receiving any warning messages about sugar overloads. It was quite distressing.
However I did learn a few things about the texture of food. Take away the taste and most foods feel gross in your mouth.
Munched up vegetables just feel like rubbery little blocks. Meat is like spongey orange peel.
Rice is just bean bag filling. And holy moly, ice cream is just strange! Like a creamy, wall plaster but cold!
I think chocolate was the only nicest thing that felt good in my mouth. Hard and solid, then melty and smooth, creamy and velvety.
I hope I feel better tomorrow. My mum promised to make me chicken soup.
In my efforts to cook and eat healthier meals, I’ve been trying some yummy recipes with no meat – on the menu last night was vegetarian tempura.
I don’t often cook deep fried meals. Mainly because of the amount of oil it requires. My mother used to have this old oil pot dedicated to deep frying. She used it over and over again. It was encrusted with old batter and had unidentifiable floaty bits. It was so gross.
Anyway, I was to reluctant use a lot of oil — so they turned out a little weird. Tasty. But weird. My husband said they tasted like vegetable doughnuts. Oh well. Next time I shall use more oil.
Callum is 3.5 months and has developed a vice like hand grip. Put something in his hand and you’ll never get it back! Fingers. Hair. Clothes. Toys. Ear rings.
Today I was in the supermarket aisle looking for soy sauce. I was carrying Callum on my hip. When I tried to walk away, I realised that Callum was holding onto something – a little old lady!
All three of us stood there politely, waiting for Cal to let go of her finger. It was a rather awkward 4 minutes.