February 2012 ~ My IdeaLife

Superwomen have it all by NOT doing it all

Superwoman really don't exist, it's more like Insanitywoman, so stop pretending and start outsourcing...Read more...

The love of your life

Is it a man, is it a career, no it's superbaby!...Read more...

A lifetime of beauty in a song

Middle East (the band not the place) have somehow condensed the human experience into this soulful song: Blood...Read more...

Saturday, 25 February 2012

The Bøøb more lethal than The Slap?

'The Slap' captured my imagination back in October 2011 and last week aired in the US. If you haven't seen it yet it has to be one of the best series I've ever seen! Here is how the first episode got to me back then. 



Like a lot of Australians last night I sat glued to the ABC for the debut of ABCTV’s ‘The Slap’, the TV series immortalising the controversial novel of the same name. So there I sat, patiently waiting for the aforementioned slap to occur.

But then a different scene slapped me far harder than a whack ever could. There was a mother still breastfeeding her four year old at a BBQ. In front of a few six year olds, no less.

At this point a collective “Eeeewwww” echoed through Twitter and presumably loungerooms nationally. Then the defence began. Women tweeted furiously: breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful thing! A woman has a right to breast feed for as long as she likes, where she likes!

As a public breastfeeder myself up until five months ago, I have no issue with other women whipping them out wherever they need to. The choice is either a starving baby in pain, screaming it’s head off or a flash of nipple. I know which I would prefer.

Why I screwed up my nose at the scene and then groaned at those defending her afterwards was because this was not a depiction of a child needing a feed. This was a sad dysfunctional scene of parents failing their child on a number of levels. If a little boy is old enough to hit other children, break their expensive games consoles and wield a cricket bat at their heads, he is old enough to be taught the difference between right and wrong, and ordered off to the naughty corner. Instead his insipid mother offers him the reward of a comforting breastfeed.

This is all types of wrong and has very little to do with the rights of mothers worldwide to breastfeed in a “whateverworksforyou” kind of way.

Have we become so politically correct, so populist that we can’t stand up and say that this woman is turning something beautiful into something revolting and wrong? I hope not, because I was completely grossed out and I will not apologise for recoiling as I watched two people selfishly undermine a healthy foundation for their son.

There is something inherently wrong with abusing the responsibility we as parents have. We possess a huge amount of power over our children’s lives and threatening them physically or emotionally, is jeopardising the very framework of which they will rely upon for the rest of their lives. The bøøb, in this case, is as lethal as the slap.

Saturday, 18 February 2012

OMEGA DELIGHT CHANNELS WILLY WONKA IN THE FIGHT AGAINST STUPIDITY

A few weeks back I was kindly invited by The Mother Media to preview a new product by Nature's Own called Omega Delight. I was a bit excited, and not for the obvious reason, that is, we were having lunch at Flying Fish. I was excited because I was about to be introduced to a product that would eliminate one of the million guilty thoughts I have had every single day since I became a Mum. The one being addressed by this event was: 

"Oh my god I haven't cooked fish for the boys again this week...if I don't give them enough fish they don't get Omega-3 and if they don't get Omega-3 their brain development* is stunted and if their brain development is stunted they will not reach their full potential and then they'll end up unhappy, unfulfilled, sad and probably living in a box by the side of the road eating dirt and it will be all MY fault." 

What is Mrs Woog thinking?
As the R&D guys tinkered around with emulsions and humectants, I wondered if they realised that they weren't just creating a fish oil supplement, they were creating a prevention for both insanity in Mothers and homelessness for the future generation. Probably best not to share that with them though, the pressure would have been so distracting they would have never come up with anything as tasty and unique as their blissful ignorance finally produced. 
The last supper of stupidity, brain superiority here we come! 
And it does taste good. Both my toddler boys love it, with Boom wanting more than his one teaspoon dose per day. I suggest putting a third of the dose in a spoon and then give in twice to the cries for more to get the full teaspoon recommended in or just hide the lot in yoghurt! Yes I know, fish oil and yoghurt - yum...but these particular food scientists seem to be giving Willy Wonka a run for their money. I wonder whether 'Roast Dinner' flavour was considered?
 

Anyway I am off to prevent my children becoming lay about, useless adults with some yummy gooey mangoey stuff. And if you know what's good for you, (fish oil in case you haven't been listening) you'll head out and get this stuff (it's a bit pricey but I saw it on special at my local Woolies for half price). 

On to more important things what do you think Mrs Woog was thinking?
Tell us in the comments!


In case you are still stuck on my insanity and my sons' near misses with homelessness:
*Omega-3 is a type of fatty acid which is found in oily fish such as salmon, mackerel and herring and is required for optimal brain function and is thought to be beneficial for behaviour, cognitive function, memory and attention. As children grow, their requirements for Omega-3 may also increase.
According to a study done for Nature's Own only 1 in 5 children are getting the recommended 2-3 servings of fish per week and therefore enough Omega-3 for optimal brain function and development. 

This post is an honest review and not sponsored except for provision of a lunch and product samples. 

Monday, 6 February 2012

WOULD YOU SOONER FORGET YOUR WEDDING?

Every year a tradition is remembered by those that chose to walk down the aisle in a white dress, a tradition to celebrate the day you spent way too much money on a very large dinner party and happened to commit your life to another human being. Every year without fail I forget this tradition, I don’t know whether it is pure absent-mindedness, or a deep subconscious reaction to my marriage but I never wake up on our anniversary prepared and usually get reminded about 8am by a less than impressed husband.




I don’t really think there is anything to say about this other than I seem to have had baby brain prior to having babies, and even more so once I did. But if there was a deep-seeded feeling that blocks out the day of our wedding from my memory it would have to be the fact that my fiancé at the time decided that a bucks night the night before the wedding day was a good idea. His brother stlll tells me that if it wasn’t for him dragging him out of whatever establishment they were partying in he wouldn’t have made it to the wedding at all. As it was, when the photographer asked him to spin all 58kg of skin and bone that was me back then, around, he nearly spewed. So as far as I’m concerned he’s lucky I married him at all let alone remember the day it happened all those years ago.

And it wasn’t that the day wasn’t memorable for other reasons than the groom being hung over, it was perfect in every other way. You could say that if you swapped the Groom for someone else who was sober, the day would have been nothing short of a fairy tale. It was at Jones Bay Wharf, I was in a simple but stunning dress, the bridesmaids were in gunmetal silver, we arrived in white Cadillacs to a small stone church that looked as though it belonged in a country town.

If you put aside the psychotic florist from a company that really should be called “Brides be Doomed” rather than it’s more deceptive upbeat name, who had mixed me up with another bride and refused to meet up to correct her obviously failed memory. Or the heartbroken hair stylist who obviously put his sadness into my style, the day had hope and joy written all over it. Especially if you were a groomsman it seemed. As though the enormous celebration of love created a strange love potion and nearly everyone got lucky, either that or people had their own “potions” in their pockets, whatever, the point was if you were single at our wedding and even slightly willing you were in for a night of looove.


The stories were so debauched my now hung over husband was struglling with the decision he’d just made. Talk about bad timing and probably a very logical reason for my annual blank. But despite the obvious trauma associated with my day as a princess, I am not trying to forget I’m married (well except the other day when I was in the park and I wanted to channel Kate Winslet’s character from Little Children), and after a beautiful lunch where Boom and I had a conversation that didn’t go something like “I did the last three poos so it’s your turn.”, “well I stayed up putting them to bed and then got up in the middle of the night so fair’s fair”. It was a lovely anniversary and one that now I’ve remembered I won’t forget…well at least until next year.

Head over to Facebook and share your wedding pics & most importantly the back story!