tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10275018626454022382012-01-17T19:45:41.228+11:00Some say women want to have it all. I don't want it all. Just what my family and I deserve, unencumbered by other people's preconceived ideas.janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.comBlogger311100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-41144721460009490342012-01-17T19:42:00.001+11:002012-01-17T19:43:09.070+11:00

When I was able to struggle up from the road surface after being knocked off my bike, the first words that came out of my mouth were worthy of any cycling nut: “Is my bike okay?” It was – startlingly okay, actually. I fared much worse than the machine. I have stretched tendons and ligaments and bruised bones and atrophied muscles, all of which require considerable sessions of physiotherapy. But

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-73691879594278507782011-12-29T15:46:00.002+11:002011-12-29T15:47:08.374+11:00

I wrote this earlier this year, and I thought of it again when I was knocked off my bike last week: The joy of falling Falling over always makes me cry. This is not ideal when you are naturally clumsy. I am forever slipping over that tiniest smear of grease on the kitchen floor, or that one squashed grape in the fruit and veg aisle.  I don't know how to land gracefully or safely, and it seems

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-46213394831940373782011-02-06T11:38:00.000+11:002011-02-06T11:38:54.098+11:00

When I was a teenager, I had complex fantasies of being someone else. I wrote characters into my never-finished books who were enigmatic, where I was just weird; confident where I was aloof; popular where I was desperately trying to fit in. My characters were smart and different like me, but unlike me, they weren't objects of ridicule or disdain, they were physically attractive, and they didn't

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-69119091320126134502011-01-07T22:16:00.000+11:002011-01-07T22:16:43.821+11:00

I just read this post from David Wright's blog Project 30 Days. I read it in light of my memory of a post from Hyperbole And A Half - a post which made me cry with laughter but also with grief because under that humour is why I also will never really be an adult. David says, and I empathise, given the navel-gazing thrust of my previous post: I’ve wanted to write this blog for a while. But there

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-50316128288169429902011-01-07T21:33:00.000+11:002011-01-07T21:33:10.783+11:00

...I have absolutely no idea. When I got home from our holiday at Point Lonsdale this week (our first proper family holiday for years) I had a smallish meltdown. And then a cry. Neither of those things sound terribly unusual I suppose, but crying for me isn't a normal thing, and melting down is usually what happens before the holiday, not when it is finished! I am going back to the job I love

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-18210595504776824692010-04-01T20:30:00.001+11:002010-04-01T20:32:17.154+11:00

30 Things Every Woman Should Quit Doing By 30 Lists like that enervate me. Does anyone feel empowered by reading a laundry list of all the things that women do wrong when they hit that Tragic Age™? I've come up with my own list of what it would make me happy to see every woman do or feel by the time she is thirty years old: Eradicate the word "should" from her vocabulary. Throw her own

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-85164045693481303532010-01-31T20:57:00.001+11:002010-01-31T20:59:43.014+11:00

Why are we still having this conversation? The subject matter - balancing life and work and kids and leisure and all the rest of it - is a universal issue, which affects men and women alike. The article itself admits, According to the latest figures from the Australian Bureau of Statistics, 47 per cent of women and 43 per cent of men often or always feel rushed or pressed for time. It's even

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-13841099219357240222010-01-21T15:16:00.001+11:002010-01-21T15:29:15.298+11:00

I wasn't going to post this, because primarily I was concerned that if I did, no-one would come around to dinner ever again. In the interest of breaking the conspiracy of silence of grotty housekeepers everywhere (the silence that keeps us grotties from realising that half the population is at least as grotty as we are) I decided to be honest, however. I can only hope that the wardens don't read

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-64781814901142206432010-01-14T14:59:00.000+11:002010-01-14T14:59:03.128+11:00

I am not writing this post because I am any kind of domestic goddess. Anyone who has visited my home will attest to the fact that not only am I not even a minor deity in the homemaking department, I might even qualify as the anti-Christ of domestic organisation from time to time. I'm writing because I have been inspired by other blogs where people have described how they have Got Themselves

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-77119081280448649942010-01-10T21:34:00.001+11:002010-01-10T21:48:43.758+11:00

I hate cooking in the summer. I use my stove a lot, I bake a lot, I like slow cooked things, and my salad repertoire has previously consisted of lettuce, tomato, cucumber, capsicum, and, if I'm adventurous, cheese. I cook really well. I salad really, really badly. At Christmas time, I had two of the most delicious salads I have ever eaten, and they have in the couple of weeks following become my

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-47456968088439207402010-01-10T20:40:00.005+11:002010-01-10T21:50:11.981+11:00

Today I packed away all the Christmas stuff (a few days late, but Epiphany came at an awkward time). For the first ten years or so of married life, my "clearing up after Christmas" routine has consisted of hurling everything into one of those striped carry bags, chucking it in the shed without looking, and hoping for the best. This has of course led to my collection of Christmas angels being

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-13053104384227822072010-01-02T15:39:00.012+11:002010-01-10T21:50:44.701+11:00

Nothing fancy today, but I felt like sharing some pictures from today's baking. I had some squooshy bananas that I could bear to let go to waste, so I decided to make banana bread. I have yet to find a really good reliable banana bread recipe, so feel free to share yours if you have one. I haven't tasted this one yet, as I'm saving it for when my sister and her beau come around for afternoon tea.

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-56129438155408818512009-12-26T11:59:00.004+11:002010-01-10T21:51:54.881+11:00

I'm sitting here in a house full of FOOD. My goodness gracious, there's a lot of it! Leftover trifle enough to bathe in, enough plum pudding to sink a largish sized ferry, cold pork and turkey to disgust a whole commune full of vegetarians, and enough lollies and chocolates to make my dentist a very, very wealthy man. So why don't I know what to have for lunch? This blog comes to you from the

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-78490103967681774672009-12-18T10:06:00.003+11:002010-01-10T21:53:42.167+11:00

The wedding is done. I'm so tired from the intense day that began at 7.15am yesterday that I am just not able to put together anything coherent about it. Briefly, it was lovely, the bride and groom were lovely, the reception was fun - for the most part - and there were no significant dramas apart from the rain. Here is the speech I gave to the newlyweds last night. I shall be back later with

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-29773262837632695662009-12-16T21:17:00.005+11:002010-01-10T21:54:34.978+11:00

I've just returned from Greta Garbo's flat, where she and her sister and I have been spending time reminiscing over school experiences, family laughs and upsets, and trading insults. In typical GG fashion, she had spent the day unwisely, not eating, and fashioning an eclectic menagerie of animals out of lumps of potato-starch-packing. She made me a frog with a pink nose. Her lounge table was

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-78674239966834556602009-12-07T21:31:00.004+11:002010-01-10T21:54:58.779+11:00

Are you receiving eleventy billion brochures advertising The Perfect Christmas Gifts For Your Loved Ones? They are actually useful, you know. I bought a wonderful Christmas notebook from Kikki-K last week but any notebook would do. It's divided into gifts, food, cards, and budget. I'm using this notebook and the brochures to streamline Christmas this year. As I go through the brochures and see

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-51425289978228781022009-12-07T21:02:00.003+11:002010-01-10T21:55:58.286+11:00

Sometimes changes come in sharp tremors that shake you and leave you in no doubt that your life has altered irrevocably. Sometimes it creeps up on you, and one morning you wake up and realise that they way you look at the world when you shake open your bedroom curtains is vastly different from how you looked at it a year ago. I've had changes of both types over the last year. Major Tom's arrival

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-79734493343538575112009-01-05T16:09:00.002+11:002009-01-05T16:21:04.472+11:00

At the end of the day, when my work is done and I'm settled on the couch, a golden orb weaver begins her work outside, from the branches of the wisteria, in our pergola.When the foot traffic from the back gate to the back door is finished, and the noise has quieted, and the only other evidence of life is the shrill of the cicadas in the gum tree leaning over the fence, she emerges from the leafy

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-67324948277746142612008-12-27T19:55:00.002+11:002008-12-27T20:20:27.375+11:00

It's such a cliche to say that Christmas can be a frought time, but it really can, can't it? Our Christmas has been relatively calm and enjoyable, but there has still been a lot of emotional intensity to deal with.It was preceded by the decision to ask Greta Garbo to leave home. The situation has become untenable. I've committed the heinous sin of expecting her to pay board ($60 per week) whilst

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-86473154323145872522008-12-11T13:55:00.001+11:002008-12-11T13:55:27.143+11:00

This week, Greta Garbo has been fuming at the expectation that now she is in employment, she is required to pay board - $60 per week. That is the rate we decided on with dd2, and it seems reasonable. Even if she chooses to eat elsewhere 90% of the time, it seems important that adults pay their way, simply on principle. It's a lesson we all need to learn. And it's not like we aren't forgoing a

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-73284359771187113122008-12-08T20:38:00.003+11:002008-12-10T14:38:41.106+11:00

I'm about to post two contradictory things, one little item on "emotional vampires," and a bit of a vent.I read this online today and I could name at least two people who fit the description with whom I spend a lot of time.How Energy Vampires Drain Your Positive Energy Energy vampires drain positive energy in many ways, such as: Intruding on your life, ignoring boundaries and privacy (energy

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-21582536495995279662008-12-01T20:38:00.001+11:002008-12-01T20:38:57.701+11:00

Poor David had to work on his day off today - to be accredited to do RE, for goodness' sake. So he dropped me off at work on his way there, and picked me up on his way back. Because we were in a hurry this morning (I was up all night with a horrible headache and managed to keep him up too) the house was in a dreadful mess when we left, and I had resigned myself to having to sort it all out when I

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-54492362296851727632008-11-30T17:59:00.003+11:002008-11-30T18:05:11.644+11:00

Half way there, just about. Nineteen weeks today.What am I waiting for? Not just the baby. Waiting for maternity leave (I put up the advertisement for my job last week) so that I can just be "mum" for a while. Oh how I am looking forward to that!Waiting for the eldest daughter to leave home. Not in a gleeful way - I just don't think it's working out at the moment, sadly enough. We have as many

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-16858250939577491712008-11-18T13:11:00.004+11:002008-11-30T18:06:05.719+11:00

"Why have children if you aren't going to look after them?"It's such an easily dismantled judgement against working parents that I am stunned it still gets airplay. As the letter writers to the Age quite succinctly managed to articulate yesterday, there are any number of reasons why parents use child care and there can be few people, even childless people, who really don't get the complexity

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-20691112597345356042008-11-14T21:11:00.002+11:002008-11-18T13:08:58.487+11:00

I need to journal.I'm an attention seeker.It's time to blog again.There are so many things different at the moment. There are these ebbs and flows not just in my life but all around me, and it feels like I'm just coming out of a cloud and noticing it all.There's so much space around me. Space coming up with maternity leave, space at work with having moved off a big project at last, space at home

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-33912741353780589802008-03-31T16:24:00.003+11:002008-03-31T16:34:35.266+11:00

One of the things I am very good at (if I do say so myself) is coming up with workarounds: solutions to complex problems when the resources are not at hand to Buy Something To Fix It. Sometimes I manage a hack for daily life - commonly I manage hacks for getting around technology. Sometimes I achieve those by cobbling together other people's hacks!Today's Daily Hack:Removing unwanted stationery

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-34815904281561445992008-03-31T13:02:00.001+11:002008-03-31T13:02:50.457+11:00

My body is sitting at my desk, wearing size fourteen trousers (that's a twelve to you Americans) and a blue satin top which is showing the bulge of the bit of body that won't fit inside the size fourteen trousers. It has just avoided walking up the three flights of stairs, and has instead very lazily taken the lift.There could be little better summation of this body of mine, to be honest. It is

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-30794675997389888722008-03-28T20:00:00.002+11:002008-03-28T20:08:49.729+11:00

What a bizarre evening.I came home from work, and got changed. While I was getting changed, nobody came in and hassled me about the colour of my knickers or asked me why I wear a bra or why my tummy jiggles.I looked in the cupboard, and decided that a tin of cream of chicken and mushroom soup sounded very nice for dinner, and that I would go up to the shop and get something disgusting for

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-89990720569071882942008-02-05T21:46:00.000+11:002008-02-05T22:11:28.605+11:00

I wonder if that should be my new mantra ;)I'm in a glowing phase with the children at the moment. The teens and I are reaping the rewards of being so honest and accountable to one another for the past few years. Greta Garbo is working two jobs to save up for her university course. We seem to have overcome the teething problems of her new independence. She seems happy with the few requirements of

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-42401048299250790002008-01-31T21:26:00.000+11:002008-01-31T21:46:09.337+11:00

Last night was a difficult night to sleep. Steamy, sticky. I was overtired and stressed by a challenging work situation. Miss Three-Going-On-Thirty decided she wanted to sleep with me, then not with me, then with me again, until Beloved lurched under his own personal thundercloud to the couch to sleep.We all finally, gratefully, slid into something approaching restful sleep when I was suddenly

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1027501862645402238.post-80541684414745786782008-01-29T21:20:00.000+11:002008-01-29T21:21:49.385+11:00

I was tempted to join a conversation on a message board about women "having it all". Can women "have it all"? After giving some responses, I decided it was worthy of a blog post.The posing of the question itself is interesting. The idea of women wanting to "have it all" has been a bit of a strawman argument. Few women expect to be able to have "it all". Most women know that if you make decision A

janehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16510748148425728361noreply@blogger.com2