So Miss5 became Miss6 on Monday. We celebrated by taking 15 of her mates to see The Smurfs movie. As Miss6 had requested Katy Perry in the live format (no DVD, CD, poster etc. would do), this was the best I could come up with in lieu of close personal connections to Ms Perry.
When I say that we celebrated - I am referring to Miss6 and her buddies squealing the place down, while I writhed around in pain on account of my hurty ears. This was when I was not escorting yet another child to the toilets, or issuing sustenance, or ssshhhhhing, or hissing at kids to sit down - in a nice and friendly manner, because heaven forbid someone else's kid thinks I'm mean or uncool.
Anyway I just wanted to tell that part of the story, so you don't think I totally fobbed my own child off on their birthday. Because I was present and accounted for until at least 5pm when I had to get ready to go out. As if that's going to save my motherly image.
On to the main purpose of this post....the reason I left my child at home on her birthday.
I skipped having a birthday dinner for
So here's a few Movember facts that everyone should know :
Movember is global, but we Aussies do it the best thankyouverymuch. It's like the ultimate blokey bloke thing to grow a mo, no? It's probably the only time it's acceptable to get around looking like an 80's porn star. High waisted skinny jeans optional.
#1Pop finally got off his arse (literally) to raise a few health queries of his own, and after a year of heavy duty chemo and a few nasty operations, he's still around to build my children various playthings, and take them out for milkshakes when I'm about ready to join them in a tantrum. He is also responsible for teaching them "shed words", but I'm going to let that slip in lieu of the excellent handyman work and babysitting. Also, he now frequents his Doctor's office more than I get to the hairdresser. Clearly, he learnt his lesson. Thankfully, in the nick of time.
So, in conclusion....
Men, women
Glowless has awesome hair and eyebrows. Always. Even when you go to her place for coffee and macaroons and she's spent the lead up panic-cleaning. Even when plastered and helping you crash a 30th birthday party. Even when she Tweets me to advise she's showing up in tracksuit pants (to which I said I would be waiting in a leopard print Snuggie, so that we were totally glammed up together). Seriously...I spent much of the night in total awe and wonderment of her 'do.
I couldn't decide whether an uber blonde in a tighter than tight white dress had a pot belly or was slightly pregnant. Which made it hard to make inappropriate jokes, not knowing whether I was simply being
Movember Ambassador - AKA Mo Mentor - Dennis Lillee, and his kids are very pleasant and forgiving, even in the face of a *slightly intoxicated* wife of a mega huge cricket tragic. At the time, I was positive Mr Lillee was dying to hear how I was missing my oldest child's birthday dinner to be there, and that my husband was a huge fan, and by the way I'm really sorry for bothering you, and gee you must get really sick of people coming up to you all the time and did I mention that I'm really sorry about that?
Totally understandable that he is looking slightly alarmed and uncomfortable after I apologised for almost 10 straight minutes.
Seriously, at once point Glowless had to come and whisk me away. So to tolerant cricketing legend Dennis Lillee, I so humbly and cringeingly apologize for rabbiting on and on about...erm...people like me, as it turns out.
Big thanks to the awesome Lynda and Nuffnang for sending me, affording me the opportunity to Ditch, Dribble, Don and Drink.
PP Mo Sista Out