Transitions

Have you ever sat in an airport in a foreign country? Listening to the announcements one after another being spoken in broken English. They are spoken in your native tongue of English (majority of the time) with a foreign accent, in a foreign country by a person who to them the language is not their native tongue. #kapeesh

Well if that made your head swim, feel confused and a bit #saywhat #comeagain then that’s exactly how I felt. Sitting there in that airport waiting for the stewardess to call us all to board, watching the clock in front of the correct gate number. #i’mleavingonajetplane

It’s that moment in between. In between the holiday and reality, between relaxation and stress. A moment where time stops. A moment where you promise yourself to never let it go so long between holidays again and to find that perfect work / life balance.

A transition.

Transitions are harder for some people than others and some moments of change harder than others. I’m not sure why this moment felt so big.

True I’d sat in many airport lounges, waited in cues, nodded and smiled my way through security and customs. I’d sat on cold hard plastic chairs, floors and leant against walls. Watched clocks ticked and learnt how to speak fluent airport announcer. But this moment felt like I was about to not only get on a plane home, but embark on a new journey. That a new chapter was about to begin. #nextstageoflife

And I was. My husband and I had finally come to the agreement we would try again for a family. 6 months after our wedding and approximately 8 months after his dad was first diagnosed, my husband was told those words most women in their 30s dread…..

I’m sorry sir but it is unlikely you will ever have kids.

I never considered they would be the same words men in their 30s dreaded too.

#1in25men #bigyear #anythingelseuniverse #stilllovehim

When it all gets too much

My husband threw a tantrum this morning. Here we are on holidays in one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Beach. Sun. Sand. Surf. #lotsofskin and at the holiday half way mark.

We all have that moment when all the stresses of work, life, family stuff that occurred in the lead up to needing a holiday in the first place crescendo to meet the thought of going back to it all. It just tips over. Spills out through your mouth like vomit.

You see his dad (not the father of the year, but his step dad – he’s pretty much raised him since he was a toddler) is very unwell. I don’t want to say critical because it hurts too much to say it, but he’s sick. I think being away from it all, enjoying himself has made him feel guilty. Guilty that he’s enjoying his life. That life continues.

Finding balance in life is tricky. Enjoying each moment. Finding the beauty in each breathe and appreciating everything around you. Living as though today could be your last. Balanced with not being reckless. Not going too far to the side of who cares, it may be my last day so why not have fun. #livefastdieyoung

Balance is everywhere. The balance between being fit and healthy, but still enjoying ice cream. The balance between not taking life too seriously, yet not taking it for granted either. The balance between enjoying life, but growing up.

The truth is we all have those moments when it all gets too much. Where we want to stomp our feet, scream, punch your pillow. Love is giving the other person the safety net in which to lose themselves, even if only for a moment.

So that’s what I did. I let him go. Throw a tantrum. Kick the ground. Stomp his feet. Yell. Curse. Then when he settled, I lay out a sarong on the sand, told him to lay down, close his eyes, grab a boob and let his worries melt away. #boobsmakeeverythingbetter

And just like that, he relaxed and for a moment life stayed still. There were no worries he’d left behind, nor troubles that awaited for him upon return. Just the moment. #truebliss

101 ways to utilise a scooter

Getting started is always the hardest. Are you like me? Do you go to sleep at night, only to find yourself wide awake at 2am, head swimming with sensational ideas and no clue what to do with them?

I’m going to be famous!

I’m going to start my own business!

I’ll help people.

I’ll be rich!

And then you fall back asleep and vaguely remember half of your ideas when your alarm goes off a few hrs later.

So how do you start? How do you take a simple idea and turn it into truth. Fact. A real thing?

I’m the worse, I’ll admit it. I am a big picture person, even finer detail at times, but I get scared.

Now I work hard, I’m not afraid to work hard, but I guess working on something that’s not driven by a “boss” is terrifying. The only person you’re accountable too is yourself. #toughcrowd

In all honesty though, people do it everyday. Come up with ideas, open businesses, start something new. It’s not rocket science.

The key, I realise, is not needing to invent a new thing, but to be innovative. To adapt, change, mould something old into something new…..better.

Have you ever been to Thailand? Have you seen how many ways they use a scooter? Seriously, their level of innovation and utilising small spaces is off the charts. #youreallycanfit6peopleadogbabyandshoponthere

Watching every imaginable scooter conversion go past #lovethaiholidays got me thinking. All I need is a simple idea and the drive, passion and motivation to make it amazing. Do you think it’s possible? I do!

Tonight’s mission. When I wake at 2am with a million and one ideas, I’m grabbing my pen and paper and writing them down. Seriously, I bet all great scooter conversions started at 2am, as a small scale idea and grew bigger out of necessity and passion. So what do I need? What does the world need now?

I don’t have a scooter, but I do have a half decent brain, a surface pro and solid internet connection! Seriously a girl can save Dolphins, cure cancer, shop for a handbag, trade on the Stockmarket and email, all, as long as she has a solid Internet connection. #thankstelstra

I’m pretty sure the idea clouds are brewing in my mind. What am I scared of? Of it not working? People thinking I’m a failure?

No, that’s not it. I actually think I, like most people, am terrified of what happens if it does succeed. What happens if it’s a rip roaring success? Oh crap, it means hard work. Long days, late nights. It means setting a high standard and continuing to achieve at that level. Not disappointing those who have watched you strive to get to where you are. #nopressure

Fuck it! Let’s do this. I want to see how terrifyingly great life can be.

#areyouready?

Here comes the father of the bride!

13 months of planning. 8 solid months of saving everything. A house deposit, but what can I say, one heck of a party!

My, I mean, our wedding was beautiful. I got to marry my best friend, soul mate, partner in crime, lover and confidant in a beautiful garden setting over looking vineyards and the ocean, while storm clouds disappeared into the horizon, surrounded by our closest friends and family. It was the best day ever!

The day however had aspects of a mini drama about it. No I didn’t go all BRIDEZILLA on anyone, but my father in law went all TODDLER on everyone.

I suppose it all started at NYE 5 months earlier.

We missed my FIL’s day of birth. Now I know what you’re thinking, horrible son, horrible daughter in law. But I could tell you some stories (and I most likely will) that would make you understand why we weren’t running to “father of the year’s” birthday. #dadoftheyear

Fast forward 4 months, my soon-to-be-husband’s BACHELOR party! The phone call came at 8pm the evening prior….

Do we seriously have to pay to come to YOUR Bach party?

“We’re not driving there”

“Dad’s still mad at you for missing his birthday”

It was at this point I pulled “wife rank” and message his so called family and explained the finer things of life to them. #growthefup

So, yep you guessed it, my man celebrated his last day of “singledom” minus a few said family members. But don’t worry he still had the time if his life. Well, that’s what I’m thinking anyway… #felloutofacab #onethousandbucksworseoff

You’re no doubt starting to form a picture. The big day arrives. Ceremony takes place.
Do you take this woman….take this man….I DO! I DO!

Then I see it happen, FOG tells my photographer that he isn’t doing a good job. That HE IS NOT TAKING ENOUGH PICTURES OF HIM! #saywhat!

Yep, my father-in-law had realised he was not the centre of attention. 15 minutes later, they packed up their car and hooned down the long tree lined driveway. That was nearly 2 years ago and the last time we saw the man of the hour.

Families are funny things. A group of people thrown together with not much rhyme or reason, besides a few genetic similarities. You definitely can’t chose your family. I learnt a lot about my husband that day. His ability to put his wife at the forefront of his affection and as his top priority, is still to this day the reason I married him. His heart broke on our wedding day (I saw it happen), but as we start to talk about our future and the family we are yet to create I see his heart slowly repair. I wonder if his dad will ever truly understand the hurt he inflicted onto his son that day.

But hey every wedding needs some aspect of drama. #toochilledwithoutthesob

Casual Pimp

So last year I married the man of my dreams (we can discuss weddings and such at a later date), and this year I became his pimp!

When I met my husband he was an average guy. Fit build, cute and engaged to someone else.  Fast forward 6 years and he is an amateur bodybuilder, hairdresser and part time nude life drawing model and stripper.

It was my own fault I guess. I said casually over dinner one night, “You train so hard, why not put it to use….BOOM!  6 months later he was signing up to his first comp and because of another candid comment, he is now using his naked body for money.

‘Now is that the undertone of jealousy I can sense’, I hear you ask. Not at all. I’ve never been a jealous type.  I’ve been jealous, and I CAN get jealous, but as a general rule of thumb, it’s not me.  My husband on the other hand was the jealous type (he’s in recovery and doing well), and it turns out 95% of the women he “entertains” are too.

“No way!”

“SURE…You’re faithful”

“I’m not married YET….what do you say?”

Are among the comments he hears. This is what he tells me anyway… Please note, I’m sure ALL the women are ‘MOSOH’ (moist on sight of him) just as he describes too. #tellhimhe’sdreamin

In all seriousness, it astoundes me at the proportion of people who get jealous (although I hope the partner of the women who proposition him does in fact get jealous too…if you can call it jealousy.  Definitely  warranted here. #dirtywhore

But it, in all honesty, does not bother me. I drop him off. Read a mag. Drink a coffee or wine. Bask in alone time. Pick him up, then we head out for a nice dinner somewhere together and I hear the stories of the night. Most of his tales are hilarious….as all women who have had drunken girls night’s out or hens party can omit.  He’s a man on the inside of a normally secret society.  #whathappensonagirlsnightstaysonagirlsnight

Then, just like all good pimps, I ask him if anyone was mean to him and, of course, take my 50% cut.

Next weekend, he’s booked back to back….can I hear you say “Ooohh new shoes!”