Thursday, August 28, 2014

Old couples day out

Today the old guy and I took the day off from work to spend quality time together while the kids are at school. (Yes, young ones, it does get this tragic later on in life)

You know you're old buggers though, when you both sing along (loudly) to Bloodhound Gang in the car, not missing a lyric. And you doubly confirm your old age by understanding the "you'll Lovett just like Lyle" reference.

We went to Rebel Sports (his choice) then to Whitcoulls (my choice). And this is all before 10am! I mean, the party don't stop!!

After a few hours together though, we naturally just drifted back into our respective comfort zones. So I'm here on my laptop, doing some work. And he's off to the gym. Ain't nobody got tiiime for too much romantic interaction. After this wee break we'll be refreshed and ready for lunch together.

And dass how we do here in the old folks home.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Birthday musings

Today the shadow girl turns 6. That's right. Amazingly enough, we have managed to keep a little human being alive for 6 years!

So what exciting and elaborate plans do we have in store for the day, you ask?

Well, we told the birthday girl she gets to decide what she wants for her Special Birthday Breakfast, as well as her Special Birthday Dinner. Ooooh lucky! That's one of the comments I received when I shared the birthday plans with others.

Ummm, excuse me? She is actually a very privileged little girl. She has "things" that we could only dream of having when growing up as poor little mongrels. She has a warm house, warm clothing, is never hungry (OK, that one may not be true), has the care and attention of a mother and a father, cable TV. She will have a proper birthday party on Saturday even (and I'm not talking about the traditional island style ones where the guests are the parents' and grandparents' buddies, and the menu is BBQ and beer. Nom!). What I'm trying to say is ... she's got shit!

So pardon me for not rolling out yet another red carpet today, and hail her royal highness by throwing wads of cash everywhere. My kid has been taught to be appreciative and grateful, of whatever little or much she receives. If she hasn't earned it herself, then it's extra to the nothing that she would have had otherwise.

She actually was super excited about her special breakfast of pancakes and loved her glittery birthday card. It's the little things that matter. Stop being shallow, bloody generation of entitlement.

(And the musings have officially turned into a rant. LOL!)

On that note, Happy Birthday my little super shadow girl. You carry on being cheap awesome.

Monday, August 25, 2014

Ain't nobody got time (School Edition)

My shadow girl has been going to school for a year now. And in that year, I have found out that I am a pretty useless parent as far as "supporting the school" goes.

I dropped the kid off at daycare at 8am sharp, and picked her up at 5:30pm (just). They cooked for her, fed her, changed her, clothed her, educated her and entertained her. I just provided a home for sleeping at night.

I have to make morning tea and lunch for the kid to take. I have to arrange and pay for before-school care and after-school care. I get emails every week from the PTA asking if I want to help with the school disco, the school fair, organising school lunch fundraising or running cake stalls.

No? Then perhaps monitoring the school crossing will tickle your fancy. Or maybe you might like to try your hand at volunteering time to run a lesson for your child's weekly Inquiry day, where you could teach about your culture, your job, or anything else outside the regular curriculum.

Ok, maybe none of those suit. But surely your friends and family will want to purchase an Entertainment Book to support the school? Ok not this week, how about next week? The week after?

ARGH!!! Make. It. Stop.

The first few times I was like, damn, I'm not free, maybe next time. But the truth is, there is no next time. There is just no time. I struggle to stay alive as it is, and ensure my little humans stay alive too. Never mind the damn goldfish (who is only alive by the good grace of God). And the career (hanging on by a thread). Then there's homework, and those "things you can do at home to help your child's education" (like WTF?). So the school committee stuff? Well, it's on the priority list, but kind of squished at the end. (Like when you went to a birthday party when you were young, and only your rich friend brought a present and card, so the rest of your gang added your names at the end of the card and eventually it ran out of space so the last few names were really tiny and kind of running downwards)

So for the good mums and dads at the school who actually contribute to the school with their time and expertise, on behalf of the disorganised, lazy, dazed and confused parents, I say a heartfelt thanks. My kid benefits greatly from the quality of education and care that the school provides as a result of your input.

As for me, I'm gonna continue with my plan of upping my "school donation" to make up for my non-participation. Problem solved.

Friday, August 22, 2014

Lock up your husbands

So this chick is in Wellington this weekend.

If your husband (or wife even) is into training and hot chicks, no need to go looking for them when they go AWOL.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

No name shame

The little shadow's homework reading book tonight was called "My name is Laloifi".

It was a mission to even get past the title page, correcting her pronunciation of Laloifi a couple of hundred times.

I started to get angry at the damn book. Yea it's about a Samoan little girl, but why didn't they choose an easier name to pronounce?

Then we got to this page. Yep, that's why they chose that name. If someone's got a problem with your complicated name, the problem is theirs, not yours.

PS. I saw a young islander rugby player on TV tonight whose first name (I'm not making this up) was Wiseguy. Head up Wiseguy. Be proud of your name :)

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Dat moment ...

...when you get the "Are you OK" email from church because you've been AWOL. Then you think, surely it hasn't been that long? Then you try to remember the last time you went to church and you can't. Oops.

It is bad that what you think of when you wake up on a Sunday morning is going to the market to get a hot Sichuan soup or spicy bratwurst or soothing pho or sweet banana and chocolate crepe? Probably.

Please pray for my soul. And please pray that the damn Sichuan soup people are at the market today, because the last time I dragged my poor kids out on a bitterly cold Sunday morning so I could get my spice fix, they weren't there, so the kids caught a cold for nothing! ("Nothing" may or may not mean a combo of a beef burrito, chocolate crepe and caramel churros...)


Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Right vs Ideal

So this recently happened:

Prior to the verdict, it was summarised by fellow crazy blogger here:

My heart breaks for the families of the two boys who died in the crash. Someone drove that truck too fast that night, and they don't even have the decency to be honest about it.

It got us thinking last night, the husband and I. If our kid was the reckless driver that night, what would be do? As parents, what would be our priority? Would we want to protect our child from the hardship and trauma that would come with imprisonment? Would we want to ensure their record was clear for the sake of their future interests and career paths? Would we be concerned with protecting the "family name"? Would we use everything and everyone in our power and influence to ensure our desired outcome was met? What would be the right thing to do?

Earlier this year, a young man in Christchurch got into a drunken brawl, as young men do. As a result, someone died, and the assaulter was charged with manslaughter. His parents were extremely saddened at the possibility of their son being imprisoned. When they were finally able to see their son prior to the hearing, they asked him if he was responsible for the victim's injuries, and therefore his death. When he answered yes, their advice to him were along these lines:
Although you did not intend to kill this man, as a result of your actions, he is now dead. In court, you must tell the truth in your plea. Do not lie. In the likelihood that you will be imprisoned, know that we love you, and will visit you regularly. But this is what is right.

The young man pleaded guilty to the manslaughter charge.

Out of the two contrasting cases - one where a family would shelter and protect their child from the consequences of their actions, disregarding the value and impact on the victim's family, and the other where a family face and learn from the consequences and teach their child to do the same - which would you be, if put in the same situation?

I know which one I would hope to be.

Friday, August 8, 2014


So when I'm not crying about how useless I am at my job, being a wife and mother, I'm moonlighting as a wannabe food reviewer. Hahaha. Yea whatever, pei lava ga masagi ai.

Wellington is a food haven though, and when I do remember (i.e. once every couple of years) I like to share my food experiences with others who are out there searching for culinary truth. HA!! Again, ua muliga Jamie Spitty Oliver ma Gordon Fiafaikeige Ramsay.

Anyway, if you want to know how much money I don't have that I'm wasting and where I got this tummy / ass / arm flaps / chin, go and have a faikala and a laugh:

Tuesday, August 5, 2014


Some of the mindless time-wasting things we do is go through Seek and look at other job opportunities, i.e. more money (lesbehonest).

Him: "What about this one?" [reads out job description]
Me: "Yea, I could do that."
Him: "What about [blah blah blah]?"
Me: "You know what job I'm really interested in? Can you check if there are any openings for a 'Lady Of Leisure'? Or how about 'Millionairess'?"

Eka, if only.

Back to reality and the grind we go. The baby needs more nappies, the girl's birthday is coming up.
Also, we kind of went overboard on our KFC Hot and Spicy obsession of late, so the bank is empty and the tummy rolls overflowing. Se ty-oh ia.