Archive by Author

Swapping clutter on ebay

24 Feb

I was slow to start using ebay but I’m happily obsessed with it now. Yesterday I won a Dora the Explorer scooter for $5. I picked it up and my little girl is happily whizzing around the house. Someone’s de-clutter has made Caterina very happy but do I have room for all this extra stuff?

I love watching Hoarders. The advice is simple – if you buy something new, get rid of something old. Be careful what you buy, don’t buy something you already have just because it is cheap. I am trying to do this but it is so easy to get excited by the items I find on ebay. I have accidentally won two Ben 10 scooters and they are on their way. I am looking for a desk for my bedroom but haven’t sold my old cot yet. Does ebay solve our clutter problems or is it simply the swapping of clutter?

Clothing are the worst items to buy on ebay. My sister and bought a lot of clothes on ebay over a six month period last year and it was only a handful of items that were the right size, the right colour or looked as good in real life as they did in the picture. My sister was so funny. Every time I turned up to her house she’d try to force some rejected item of clothing on me. She’s pretty good at buying clothes for me but even I couldn’t wear some of the clothing that turned up. Our worst moment was a gorgeous, very small and depressing black dress from Bardot. It was beautiful and we both tried our best to squeeze into it, thinking we could fix the bumps and lumps with shape wear but we were kidding ourselves and she had to re-list it for sale.

I usually buy my Clinque Dark Spot Corrector on ebay and save about $20 in the process but it does take ages to arrive because it is from overseas. Then I go through my rationing stage where I have to use the smallest amount of the cream so I don’t run out before the new one arrives.

I am trying to be a smarter ebay shopper and seller. I have become a watcher, not a bidder. I stalk items and if I really want them I make sure to log in for the final hour of the auction and hope the price stays reasonable.

I am a lazy seller. I always choose pick up only. I can’t be bothered organising delivery and with two small children, the post office is a no-go-zone for me.

My iPhone has made it easier to photograph and list items and today I plan to do some selling. My clutter is about to become someone else’s clutter and then I will add some of their clutter to mine. It’s a fun pastime but not profitable because items sell so cheaply at the moment and I am always planning to replace my sold item with something else.

Do ebay businesses still make lots of money or are they too victims of low, low  prices?

Today I need to find a small office desk, a small office chair and I’d also like to find a Spiderman scooter for my son so each child has their scooter of choice. Then I can use my newly purchased multiple Ben 10 scooters and gifts and I might even try and sell my old plastic Christmas tree and some kitchen gadgets I bought but never opened. Someone else can slice and dice and discover the ease of cleaning, even after slicing and dicing sticky and colourful foods.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Coffee and morning neurosis

24 Feb

I don’t have much time to think in the morning. Getting the kids dressed and the eldest ready for school takes up most of my head space. I have time for random thoughts and worries about the day. This morning due to brain overload thanks to Australian politics my brain seemed to be running on safe mode. I got everything done but it seemed to take a little longer than usual. Particularly the seemingly easy task of making my morning coffee.

I have picked up my dad’s coffee drinking habit. We have one when we wake up, one mid-morning and our final cup mid-afternoon. We take it the same too – milk and sugar. It’s instant, but good instant. I don’t have the time or the bench space for something more elaborate.

This morning it took me an hour to make my coffee. This is normal but a little disturbing. One of the first things I do each morning is flick the kettle on. Then I usually hop in the shower and as I step out I yell out for my school-age son to jump in. I get dressed, open the door to the little kid’s room so they can start to wake up and then I boil the kettle again. Sometimes at this stage I will even go as far as to place my favourite red mug on the bench in readiness. But this morning the little kids tumbled out of their room and I was distracted by hugs and kissed.

I gave them their juice and then went to hurry my son along. I ironed his uniform and placed it on his bed. I grabbed his lunch box out of his bag to make his lunch and then I had to boil the kettle again.

I just kept forgetting to make it. I kept reboiling the kettle so the water was nice and hot. As I scrambled to make his lunch and get him dressed I stared longingly at my red mug.

I still haven’t made it. My son just left for school, the little kids are dressed and fed. I meant to make it before I sat down to write this but I forgot. Just give me a sec…

Okay, I have it now. My first coffee of the day. I use my daughter’s Dora the Explorer spoon because it measures out my coffee and sugar perfectly. I haven’t taken a sip yet. I will. It sad, isn’t it?

I just had a sip. Yum. Coffee really is my morning cuddle, aside from the numerous giggly squirmy ones the kids give me.

I’ve woken up on the right side of the bed this morning. Everything is delighting me, even my insane attempts to make coffee. My poor, over-used kettle. It’s just a little red Kambrook I picked up from Kmart. It’s coping pretty well…it has to to keep up with me, my crazy coffee, 2-minute-noodles and the many times I used boiled water to get dinner started to speed things up.

Here’s to my crappy cuppa. And here’s to yours.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

I don’t want to know!

23 Feb

I don’t want to know the details of the Labor party’s disfunction. Who else feels like we are the reluctant witnesses to the latest drama in a family that just can’t get along?

I have problems of my own. I have my own issues to deal with, one of which is the person I elected as PM isn’t the PM anymore and now the new PM and the old PM are fighting over who gets to be PM while I look on wondering how these people got to be in power in the first place.

Leadership challenges are nothing new but this one is as messy as they come. It’s uncomfortable to watch and I really just want to wake up and have it all sorted. It’s gotten to a point where I don’t even care if Kevin or Julia are the PM – I just wish  the ‘faceless few’ who run the party would make up their bloody minds and stick to it.

Tony Abbott is looker better and better. He doesn’t have to say another word between now and the next election. By just staying out of trouble he is sure to win the next election based on the exasperation factor alone!

Monday seems too far away and while all this is going on, who is running the country and who is going to take on the very important job of being Foreign Minister? It’s ironic that Kevin Rudd has been Foreign Minister and now thanks to a squabble he is involved in we are a global joke. Make up your mind already. We made up our minds and now you’re just messing with us Labor Party. Perhaps you need a time-out?

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

What is your goal weight?

23 Feb

I got to my goal weight one day. And it lasted, one day.

My goal weight is 55 kilos and I as an adult I have only weighed 55 kilos for one day. I have spend the past ten years trying to get back to it but three pregnancies and a liking for cake, biscuits, Freddo Frogs, ice cream, vegemite toast, Chinese food and every other food it seems has prevented me from achieving my goal.

I’m not overweight, but every day I feel like I’m not the best I can be because of my weight. And it is so wrong!

Why do I think about my weight every day? Why am I always dieting? Is it so I can avoid living? Is it so I can stall finishing my novel and take my mind off our very low bank balance? Was I born this way? Is it because society/media/magazines brain wash me?

I am an intelligent woman. I know there is more to me and every other woman than what we weight. I remember famous words by Oprah. She once said she wants to live her life without weight being an issue. Weight has never not been an issue for her. Portia De Rossi cured herself of an eating disorder by not letting weight be an issue for her but now she is skinner than ever. When I don’t let weight be an issue and eat what I want I end up with a much bigger problem – clothes that don’t fit, discomfort and a sense of failure.

My latest theory as to why I think about my weight so much as to do with control. As women, parents, wives, mothers, workers we have such little control over our lives. We all have to take our kids to school, pay bills, follow instructions and rules. Do we really have any control over our lives and if we do, does this control lead to freedom and happiness? Is my preoccupation with my weight my attempt to forget how little control I have over my life? I can control my weight (to a degree) and what I eat (until about 6pm when I break my diet every, single night) but I can’t work any more than I am. I am always running out of money. I haven’t achieved my career goals. My house could use a de-clutter. My husband and I are due for a date night. My uni course starts in a week (what was I thinking). The only part of my life that is completely in my control is diet, exercise and appearance.

Have I made a brilliant discovery? Is this the real reason we are sometimes so caught up in our own appearances and that of women we admire? It is for me. I know I could use some therapy, right? I detest weight-loss shows. The thought of a personal trainer yelling at me and tut-tutting over what I’ve eaten terrifies me. Because if weight were no longer an issue (because I’d reached my goal weight or just given up and blown up) then what would have to occupy my time? Then I’d have to finish my book, think about my life, try and improve my marriage and deal with family issues. Because then I’d realise that it’s not my weight that’s stopping me from reaching my full potential but my own crazy head and perhaps fear of criticism or fear of discovering that you can achieve every single thing you’ve ever wanted and still not be at peace and god forbid, still not be as happy as you should be.

Is life achieving all your dreams or is life the attempt to achieve all your dreams? Do we all get to be happy or do we end up content because if we are lucky enough we discover what really matters?

I was called a perfectionist today. I am about some things. Being a perfectionist isn’t about getting everything right. It’s about never being satisfied unless everything is perfect and this is at the root of my problems. I don’t just want any life, I want the perfect life. I want perfect children, a perfect marriage, the perfect weight, the perfect job. My life is about being okay with okay. The journey continues.

As you know by now this blog has none of the answers and all of the angst. Perhaps that too is part of life or maybe my angst is the reason I can write. I always find comfort in sharing the struggles of others. You must be feeling VERY comforted by now. My gift to you.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

 

Work stress and coming home to chaos

23 Feb

I had a terrible day at work yesterday. It was four-and-a-half hours of hysteria and stress. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. There were technical issues, human error, yelling…I might have cried a little. You can imagine how happy I was to come home too…a total mess.

Stepping into my house after returning from work feels like I’m an SES worker surveying the damage after a natural disaster except I am no rescue work and the natural disaster is my husband and children.

The mess starts at the front door. There are bits of food, toys, usually some items of clothing that have been shed. The lounge room is always the worst, especially as this is usually where I find my husband lying down, watching TV, rendered useless by the constant need to clean and tidy up when looking after children.

I used to get angry when I saw him lying down watching TV. Now I know better. He starts off really well. He’s patient with them, tries to think of special activities to do with them. He asks them to put their rubbish in the bin as they go. He puts his in the bin too. They bond, watch the Discovery channel. Then someone spills their yoghurt on the carpet. My husband leaps up and starts cleaning the mess. When his head is turned by a fight between the other two kids the yoghurt-spiller tries to ‘help’ by shaking Curash powder over the mess. The earlier fight has escalated and there is screaming or crying involved. The yoghurt mess is still there. My husband can’t get them to stop fighting and his head is starting to ache so he offered them a treat food. He lets them open the packages themselves to buy himself some time to sort out the yoghurt mess. Wrappers are thrown on the floor or next to the bin, the next argument starts, my husband’s work phone rings….hours later I find him collapsed on the lounge while the children have the time of their lives making the world’s largest and most annoying mess.

Looking after children is as much about cleaning as the happiness of the children themselves. Cleaning aside, he is perfect. Factor in the mess I find the house in most days I have worked or made the mistake of popping up to the shops for a quick hair cut and I usually wish I could tip toe back out of the house and come home much later.

Most nights after everyone is asleep I spend the night cleaning while watching my favourite TV shows. I am usually on my hands and knees picking up stuff while the show is on and during commercials I have made a game out of trying to get things done before the show comes back on. Last night I washed all the dinner dishes during only two commercials during The Good Wife. I took one of my kids to the toilet during another one and I hung out the washing in one too. It was like an adrenaline sport. I was so desperate not to miss a second of The Good Wife that I seemed to tap into some forgotten energy source and became a super-mum.

I know. This is all very sad. But hey, what’s the point of getting upset? It is what it is, yelling and arguing doesn’t help. I prefer to pick my battles, make the most of bad situations and use the long and very loud TV commercials in a more productive way.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

It takes a village

23 Feb

I have been called in to work this afternoon and I have to go. My son Philip needs a second lot of dental surgery and as you know it is pricey, even with my snazzy private health insurance.

My sister who is my usual helper is at work today so she can’t pick my son up from school for me. I rang my mum but she is about to start painting another section of her house (she has been hit by the renovating bug big time). So I’m thinking I might have to ring work and say I can’t come in when I remember I have a couple of other options.

I am close to a handful of mums and my son’s school. I texted my favourite one and asked her if she could drop Philip home for me. Philip hates it when this mum drops him home from school (it’s only happened once before) because this friend’s daughter is my son’s ‘girlfriend’. I’ll really hear about it when he gets home today. “Mum, why did you get Laura’s mum to bring me home? I was so embarrassed and Laura won’t stop chasing me!”

If I had to I could raise my children on my own with absolutely no help but it would be really, really hard. I wouldn’t be able to work, socialise, shop…I’d be a different person. I’m sure I’d get used to it and try and make the most of it. I do love being a mum and they do get a good eighty per cent of my time and attention. But because of my handful of amazing, trusted co-mother’s, I can be a mum, work and get my teeth cleaned.

I love being a mother and I particularly love being a mother in my special little community. It’s a community of families. We all have kids and similar lives. We have two or three children, husbands who work long hours, we have part-time jobs and we all wish we had more time to do our hair. We look really good when we’re all dressed up but some days we look like we’ve just rolled out of bed, thrown our hair in a ponytail and stumbled through our day. We do a pretty good job at being wives and mothers with occasional slip ups like putting our kids in the wrong uniform, packing a food that has been vetoed by said children or forgetting to do their homework until the morning it is due. We’re okay wives too. We start of most days planning not to say anything negative about our husbands/partners but we slip up with a roll of the eyes during a conversation about their work hours or availability to look after the kids while we go to the gym, get our hair done or go to see a soothing movie with snacks we don’t have to share and no need for wet-wipes.

I love being a mother because I get to share the experience with my sisters, my friends, my own mother…it’s special. Our children are blessed, we are blessed and the best part of it is when I’ve having a bad day or a bad mummy moment, there’s no judgement. There’s instant empathy, hugs, offers of chocolate and community.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Put your hands in the air if you hate cleaning

20 Feb

I hate cleaning…always have, always will. I don’t know how I turned out this way. My earliest childhood memories are of my mum cleaning. She had a schedule. There were certain days when she mopped, dusted, vacuumed, changed the sheets..she was always working, cooking or cleaning.

I love my mum but I don’t have any childhood memories of her reading to us or playing with us. She was much too busy, and keeping a house spotless with four children running around was a challenge I’m sure.

She is still a really good cleaner. Her house isn’t the most attractive house on the street but you can eat off her floor. Often when the kids and I stop by for lunch she is already vacuuming behind us as we walk out the door. She told me recently that she mops every time we have been over because the crumbs attract ants. When I have people over I sometimes don’t do the dishes until the next morning, saving all my energy for eating leftovers.

My sister has a cleaning day. She cleans ahead of the weekend because she often has visitors. Perhaps that’s my problem – I don’t have enough visitors and therefore not enough motivation to clean.

I do the basics…each day I do the cooking the dishes. I’m pretty good with the laundry and ironing but I’m not much of a duster or scrubber of places people don’t see. It doesn’t help that I live in a very old house which is full of dust – which means I should clean more often but makes my efforts seem fruitless.

My mum helped me find my lost keys on Saturday and since then she has been discussing my skirting boards. She was all ready to come over and do it herself but she shamed me enough to get me moving. She’s particularly horrified by the state of the skirting boards behind the children’s toy box in the lounge room and the skirting boards in the little kid’s bedroom. She’d like me to Windex the front windows (they are very big). She wants me to air the house out every day. Oh gosh, I should have found my keys myself.

I know she’s right. Someone has to clean. My husband leaves for work at 3am and gets home at 6pm so he barely has the energy to carry his dinner plate to the kitchen and collapse into bed. My kids are too little although my eldest boy has just started cleaning his room on the weekend for his allowance. He’s quite good at it but he’s pretty tired after he’s done.

I don’t work full time so I’m the only one left standing. That being said I am so busy….three kids, school, P&F, I work part-time and every weekend, my distance uni course, my aspirations to be a writer. I make sure I exercise most days and I spend a lot of time playing with my kids. Something’s gotta give. There has to be a way to fit in more cleaning.

I have noticed that some cleaning feels like cardio…vigorous vacuuming, polishing the furniture – cleaning does give my arms a good work out. So should I replace my work out time with cleaning? If I cleaned every day I don’t think I’d get it all done.

The kitchen gets most of my attention because I love to cook. I clean the fridges, pantry and benches a lot while I wait for things to cook. I do love my books Spotless and Speed Clean by Shannon Lush and when I read them I am inspired. She suggests I come up with a schedule. One day a week I should clean the whole house and then one room each day gets a thorough cleaning, skirting board and all. Really, who has the time?

I had a weekly cleaner once but I used to clean before she arrived and two hours after she’d left the house was getting dirty again. It’s really down to me and a new, daily ritual. Is there such a thing as a self-cleaning house?

If and when we do end up in our dream house the only instruction I will have in regards to design is that everything is designed to minimise mess. I don’t want any damp, I want easy to clean surfaces only, absolutely no carpet and everything treated once a year for mould, bugs and vermin.

This morning I dropped my boys off at school and then got busy in the little kid’s bedroom. I have treated the mould, wiped off the mould treatment, wiped down the windows and window sill, the skirting board, pulled off their sheets for cleaning and opened the window. This blog is my break while I drink coffee and then I have to vacuum, put new sheets on the beds, wipe the mould treatment again so it doesn’t smell and ignore the wardrobe which needs to be cleaned out. After I do all that it’s time for lunch and then my little girl will have a nap in her newly cleaned room. Then I have to log on and start my uni distance course (what was I thinking?) and pay some bills as well as hang out the washing and do some ironing. Then pick the boys up, come home, cook dinner, take the washing down, clean up after dinner, pack lunches…hang on, I haven’t exercised and I’ve forgotten to check the mail.

I’ve also forgotten my afternoon coffee (I must have this) and according to this schedule my little girl’s nappy hasn’t been changed since this morning and we haven’t done Philip’s homework. And my best selling novel still hasn’t been written.

Redo…

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Dummies and bad advice

19 Feb

I am so sick of ‘experts’ telling mums what they should be doing. Fair enough if it’s a matter of life and death, but “A spat over dummies” in today’s Sunday Telegraph is making me a little cross.

I gave my first child a dummy, after being advised by a midwife that it would help him attach to my breast. He was having trouble. He eventually got the hang of it and probably would have without the dummy but if felt good to give him something that would sooth him. When he was two-and-a-half I told him the dummy fairy was coming to take them for new babies and he said goodbye to them without too much trouble.

After having my first baby a lot of ‘advice’ was discussed talking about how dummies are damaging so I didn’t give one to my second son. He is now a dedicated thumb-sucker. I didn’t give one to my third child either. She too is a thumb sucker. I also blame an incident at my local Target store where I saw a five-year-old girl in a school uniform with a dummy attached to her collar, sucking away. I now realise this is very rare and shouldn’t cause the massive anxiety over dummies that it caused in me.

I am angry with myself for listening to the advice against dummies and for the ‘Target incident’ making it worse. I should have trusted my instincts. I wanted to give them dummies but felt pressured not to. I think babies with dummies are so cute. I don’t think they are damaging. They can cause restlessness at night but that was a price I was willing to pay to have children who were happy and who didn’t suck their thumbs.

Babies love being comforted by parents, teddy bears and dummies and I’m a big fan of doing whatever works for you and your baby. When ‘experts’ give advice on such things I often wonder why they can’t just say, ‘Do what feels right for you and your baby’. This is what I keep telling my sister who has just had her first. Whatever makes you happy and your baby happy and isn’t a health hazard – go for it. Stuff the mummy-guilt.

The list of ‘For’ and ‘Against’ points in the article is pretty funny because it basically makes dummy-using parents sound lazy. Do you want to keep your baby quiet, keep them asleep, stretch out time between feeds and stop thumb sucking? Then shove that dummy in. And then if you’re stupid enough to give your baby a dummy you will be punished by a child who has trouble feeding, can develop an overbite, can have speech problems and will wake all night.

I only have three children and statistically that doesn’t prove much to ‘experts’ but they say plenty to me. My first child had a dummy. He fed really well, never sucked his thumb and was a frequent feeder. He did wake up at night when he lost his dummy but I eventually let him lose it and sooth himself and he only used the dummy to go to sleep initially. My second son with no dummy was a restless sleeper at first and eventually found his thumb which at four years of age he is yet to give up. He is unnaturally attached to his teddy bear (very stinky by the way but he cries when I put it in the washing machine) and I would do anything to get him to stop sucking his thumb. My third child, my little girl, is also a dummy-less thumb sucker.

My sister did the same as me. We had children at a similar time and only gave dummies to our first. She didn’t give one to her second child, a little girl, and she developed a habit of sucking her middle fingers whilst clutching a blanket to get to sleep and her third who was also not given a dummy ended up sucking on a muslin wrap for comfort.

Every time my dad sees my kids sucking their thumbs he gently slaps their hands away from their mouths, telling them they are too big to be sucking their thumbs. Short of tying their hands behind their backs I’m not sure what to do. The thumb fairy can’t come and take their thumbs away. I’m left to hope and pray that they stop the habit before they begin school.

My experience out of the six children I have observed in our family is that they are going to suck on something so it may as well be a dummy. But somechildren are perfectly okay not sucking on anything but once again, it’s what works for you and your baby. You can use a dummy but you don’t have to use it for years. You can use nothing but be ready to stop them from sucking on something else. And you can relax. Have you ever seen a sixteen-year-old with a dummy or sucking their thumb? They will stop eventually. And you can be sure if one of these methods of soothing causes a massive, horrible overbite as we are being warned, there will be plenty of dentists willing to help for hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Win, win.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

What Whitney means to me

18 Feb

I worked a lot over Christmas. I am a TV and radio traffic reporter in my other life and over Christmas I was doing traffic for WS FM. For some reason Whitney Houston’s brilliant hit single “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” came on two days in a row and my fellow traffic reporter Susannah was laughing at me because each time it came on I would turn the volume up. I love this song so much. To me this song is about the desire for love, romance and the intoxicating experience of dancing with someone special. I used to be a DJ at parties too and always made sure I played this song. It’s one of a handful of songs that makes me feel happy in an instant.

I was at a hospital visiting my sister and newborn nephew when I found out Whitney Houston had died. I was so shocked and saddened, but not surprised. As a former radio announcer it always disturbed me how insecure some celebrities turned out to be upon meeting them. I was never lucky enough to interview Whitney but I knew enough as we all did to know her life wasn’t a fairytale.

Listening to all the reports and media surrounding her death it sounds like her life was more of a nightmare, with glimpses of happiness when she was performing or when she was with her daughter. She should have had it all. She should have been happy. She should have been happy, confident, in control, substance-abuse free and free of all the people who contributed to her very muddled and complicated life. I watched her Oprah interview. I didn’t believe her. I felt sad watching it. I didn’t believe her marriage wasn’t as abusive as it seemed. I didn’t believe she had it all figured out as she tried to make it seem. It felt like she wasn’t in the good place she was describing but that she wished she was. The Oprah interview seemed like she was talking about the Whitney she wanted to be.

She should have been aging but beautiful. She should still be able to sing well.  She should be performing, spending time with her family and friends and her beautiful daughter. She should be a fading star who was happy to be fading because she was so proud of her achievements and enjoying being a mother. We would all still be enjoying her music and feeling happy knowing she was somewhere out there still singing and performing and living her life.

Tragedy and scandal might be excellent PR for some stars but it’s those who seem to stay away from such coverage that I admire the most. I wish she had found her way. She had such a loving family. I wish she had the gift peace and happiness as a state of being instead of it being fleeting. I think the happiest and most successful women – celebrity or not – are strong. They can turn away from men who are bad from them, manage their lives, health and money well and with confidence and intelligence. They look after themselves. They run their lives like a business and the business is peace and happiness. They don’t listen to the negativity and they don’t let negative people affect them. If I take anything from this tragedy and the many others that have ended in a wasted life I teach my daughter that she is the only one who can steer her ship and it is her right and responsibility to get rid of any and all negativity from her life. She is in control of her life and her health. They key to happiness is really about being in control.

I’m not the only one who has been crying in the car listening to “I Will Always Love You”. I have watched “The Bodyguard” movie three times this week. I haven’t listened to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” yet. It won’t make me happy anymore. It will make me determined though to make the decisions that are best for me and my family, regardless of anything and anyone who tries to affect this. RIP Whitney. RIP and I wish it had been different for you and I hope your daughter learns from the lessons of your death.  There are so many rumours…she was broke, she had throat cancer, she couldn’t sing anymore, she was abusing medication. I hope she can free herself of all of this. Whitney Houston was a beautiful, talented woman with a daughter and she died too soon. These are the only truths that matter. The rest is now history.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

Lost keys!

18 Feb

I had the perfect start to my day today. I woke up early and exercised. I bathed the kids (because I was too tired to do it last night) and my eldest had a shower. We were all dressed and clean and ate a healthy breakfast together. I cleaned the house. It looked beautiful. I packed my work bag and was getting ready to drop the kids off at my sister’s house for the afternoon when I remembered that my little girl had been playing with my car keys the night before. I grabbed my handbag and tipped everything onto the floor – not there. I looked in her little bike where she had been playing – not there. I looked in her Dora backpack – not there. My vision went blurry. I knew they were lost. My morning – in mere seconds – had turned to shit.

It’s not her fault they are lost. Since we’ve had toddlers in our lives my sister and I have lost three sets of keys, her brand new mobile and other countless items like school hats and toys. Most items turn up eventually. This morning I had about fifteen minutes to search and then I had to call my sister to pick us all up so I could get to work. I am at work now writing down a list of places to look when I get home. I have previously found my keys in the pantry, the washing machine, the bin, the fridge, in the kids bags, under the lounge and once I found them next to the toilet (I like to think they never made it into the actual bowl).

My sister bought us key-tracking devices once. They attach to our keys and when we lose them we clap and they beep – keys found! These key-tracking devices were not designed for Italians. Every time I spoke or the kids played they beeped. “Dinner’s ready”…beep, “Go back to bed”…beep, “Stop kicking your brother”…beep, “Why don’t you ever help me put the kids to bed”…beep, “I’m not in the mood tonight”…beep.

My sister lasted a day with hers before she smashed it and put it in the bin. I put mine in my glove box with plans to throw it away too. It beeped at me for a month before I actually threw it away. I told the kids we had to speak quietly in the car in the morning so the alarm didn’t go off. By the time we got to school drop-off it had beeped at us several times. Quiet communication is as foreign to me as having one bite of cake and leaving the rest for later.

My sister once found my keys in a draw in her office after I’d walked home with the kids. Her phone never turned up and I looked for weeks. It must have gone into the bin or the toilet. My husband’s Gucci watch never turned up – bin or toilet. I found a set of keys once when I moved house…but I really need to find my keys today!

I don’t have a spare. The spare is long gone…a victim of my desire for five minute of peace and quiet while the kids played. And she was so cute last night. I’d taken them off her a couple of times but she kept going to my handbag. She put on my sunglasses, got my car keys, put her back pack on her back, hopped on her pink ride-on toy and said, “Bye Mum, shopping.”

If I had asked her for my keys last night she would have remembered and gotten them for me but she’s two-and-a-half so by this morning she has no idea where she left them. I tried to stay calm. I was breathing hard trying to control my anger (at myself) and I was talking to myself. My four-year-old son started saying, “Oh my God, where are they”, mimicking me. It would have been cute had I not felt so stressed. I yelled once at Caterina when asking her where they were. She started crying, my son hugged her and said, “Say sorry Mum”. When we got to my sister’s house my son told her that his room was such a mess. And that’s the other thing. Not only do I not have my keys, not only did I scare my kids with my panic, but I also have to go home to a trashed house. I emptied everything and still no keys.

I texted my husband saying, “Don’t freak out when u get home. We haven’t been robbed. I lost my keys. Still looking.”

So tonight after a six hour shift at work I get to go home, get the kids ready for bed and instead of cleaning the kitchen and collapsing in exhaustion I will be on my hands and knees all night cleaning and looking for my keys at the same time. If I find them I will CELEBRATE – by collapsing in exhaustion. If I don’t find them…perish the thought – my husband will probably find me in the morning asleep, with my face planted into the carpet, my hand still under the lounge when I’d been searching when sleep claimed me at 4am.

Who is the saint I pray to for lost items…Saint Michael or Saint Anthony? I’ll pray to both. Unless they come down and help me search, I’m not sure my prayers will actually work.

I’ll let you know when I find them, if I find them. (No! Confidence Jo!) I’ll let you know WHEN I find them, probably some place obvious and silly like in a shoe or in the fruit bowl. And when I find them I will buy a hook and hang them on the side of my fridge like my sister has been suggesting for the past three years. In positive new I did find my missing earring this morning and the spare DS charger I’ve been looking for. And 5 cents.

La Dolce Vita – Jo Abi

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