the fifo wife

Have you had a boob job he said to me?

I shot a look at my cousin and then his wife with a WTF look on my face?

She shrugged and played dumb but the truth he is would have needed some prompting. What? he said when I shot him the look. Well have you she piped up there it was and she then asked.

What? he said when I shot him the look. Well have you she piped up there it was and she then asked.

Well, have you she squeaked. I smiled to myself because there it was.

No I said I have not although I wouldn’t mind one I said and she rolled her eyes.

‘The girls’ are not what they use to be. I use to have a wonderful relationship with them. I liked them and they were played with ahem…a lot. Then they became feeding instruments and well they haven’t been looked at, touched or taken care of the same way since. Now they are hidden in the back of the cupboard like a toy that a child no longer wants. They are now dressed in beige, white or black whereas before in their prime it was the prettiest lace with a matching pant; the price was no obstacles for my girls. I loved a lingerie store like Kym Kardashian likes Botox.

Then they became feeding instruments and well they haven’t been looked at, touched or taken care of the same way since. Now they are hidden in the back of the cupboard like a toy that a child no longer wants. They are now dressed in beige, white or black whereas before in their prime it was the prettiest lace with a matching pant; the price was no obstacles for my girls. Spoilt were they.

When they finished being a feeding instrument they had lost their shine somewhat. The lost their perkiness and so did I. Shopping for bra’s and all things pretty became a ‘chore’ especially with an extra six legs attached to mine. So naturally, after I finished feeding I just went back to using the same bras I had. Pulled them out of my cupboard threw them on and thought nothing of it. They did meaning the bra did the job or so I thought because even though I tug, tucked and pulled it didn’t occur to me they may not being doing the job.

Then last week I saw a women with strange mutation of four breasts. Not two but four because thanks to Oprah I knew she was committing the ultimate atrocity that is the wrong sized bra and her bits flowed out the top of her ill fitting bra. She looked a mess despite being dressed nice, effort having been made her top let her down. I saw her in the reflection of the double doors as we head into a city shopping centre. I turned around to look at this lady who clearly had four breasts the quad bouncing around under her slightly fitted singlet. She wasn’t there; of course she wasn’t because it was me. I looked down and sure enough I had mutated I had four breasts. I was that women I use to snigger at; yes it’s true I did but that was then when I was young and knew everything.

So of course being that women I once sniggered at I head straight not to Target (my usual haunt for the two bras for $25.00..bargain.. my favourite since becoming a mum long gone are the days of spending $40, $50, $60 on one bra yes you can buy so much with that. Christ that’s a set of swimming lessons for the kids) but to a proper lingerie store one with an old woman who wore a cardigan, a tape measure and practical well fitting bra. I walked in and we need not speak. She ushered me into a cubicle. There was no need for words my front quad boob displayed my dilemma.

Busily she measured my under bust or my rib cage for the band size and then the she measured across my breast at the fullest point for the cup measurement. Now unusually I stripped off but if you have a bra on and one that doesn’t  flatten your breast it’s okay to leave it on whilst being measured but me I perhaps prematurely undressed in my fluster which was met with an awkward silence as she finger tipped measured me; embarrassing  but the point is I got measured. Not that I was standing partially naked in front of a stranger in a shopping centre where all that separated me from the other fully clothed shoppers was a ill fitting curtain. With brings us to that other world mystery; what is it with that, ill fitting curtains in change rooms?

Now if you can’t bring yourself to get measured by a professional for whatever reason get yourself a tape measure and do yourself a favour and fit yourself or have your husband help. I am sure he want mind. Head here for some help on how to measure correctly and here if you aren’t quite sure why you have four breasts instead of two. So my cardigan lady fitter took my measurements wrote them down and walked away. She returned with a beige number (beige? what is the go with that) it was huge, massive I said are you sure pulling the same face my four year old pulls when I put a bowl of garlic cabbage in front of him. Yes dear pop it on she said in the same voice I tell my four year old to eat it. When you do lean forward and fall into it she instructed (which is how you put a bra on- lean forward and fall into; your breast not your body you could damage yourself otherwise and then stand up) I made some sarcastic remark to myself that after three kids there is no popping it on. It’s lifting and pouring into the cup but still I did as she said and lifted and poured into what I was sure was the wrong size.

Of course Murphy law says I am wrong because I thought I was right and I am in fact bigger than I thought which means I was wearing the wrong bra which meant it did not fit properly. Which means depending on which bra I was wearing was either flat chested, had back fat or the horrid quad breast. I was mutated now wonder I felt a little blah. So now that I have the right bra like Oprah has exclaimed it has rocked my world. And it does indeed look like I have had a bit of help. It also means they look shiny and new again and well that’s never a bad thing. No one wants to be the toy that is at the back of the cupboard that no one wants to play with. Now I’m walking a little taller, my chest is out of course it is I have a $45 bra on I’m showing it off I paid $45.00 for it but I know I look good. I have a waist again and just two breasts. I feel good because I fit right and because I fit right I have fought the guilt and brought myself new intimates. This also means my underwear matches and never underestimates how much matching knickers can make you feel.

However I still shop at target I cannot resist a bargain two for $25.00 come on who can go past that but I have tried them on each of them and all the different styles because they all fit different. But I have brought myself some pretty ones from the grown up ladies shop because I wanted to; its that simple. So next time you don’t have an extra set of legs attached to yours get fitted. Who knows  wearing the right bra and you could re find an old toy and change how you feel about yourself all in one go.

Have you been professionally fitted? Did you go up or down? And what’s your thoughts on how matching bra and knickers make you feel. 

xx Deb

I lost my patience at the boys over the weekend and had my own little tantrum in the supermarket car park. It was in the car slightly sound proofed but still I’m sure it was still heard by passing motorists..I think I even swore.

The last straw?

What they wanted for lunch. I know simple enough but it was fuelled by what feels like constant nagging, whinging and whining from Friday afternoon the moment we got home from driving four hours across the freaking countryside to see their cousins. I have heard whinging and crying over everything from running out of the right toothpaste, to who sits next to the window, who had the toy first, arguing for them just to eat a little more dinner because all that vomiting has made B3 just a little thinner than I like, right down to who was going to help carry what bag of shopping. And typically I am the only one here listening to that whinging and whiney – yes I know my choice our choice to live this way but this isn’t a complaint its a story there is a difference so bare with me.

So when they started on what was being had for lunch the moment I got in the car, I yelled so loud I think I have damaged my throat. I ripped around in the seat so fast once I heard the bickering commence that I have given my self seat belt burn so husband when you come home that purple mark on my collar bone is not the result of a torrid affair.

They sat stunned as I rattled off how these entire holidays, this entire life is for them, that everyday is for them, that I feel like I’m trying but getting no where and I’m just a wee bit tired for trying to give them everything we can. That having them bicker over everything right down what we are going to have for lunch is making my job today (or then) just a little bit miserable. I didn’t expect them to understand it its something better left for a small room, a couch and a man with a clip board but I said it any way. It felt so good just to say it.

It took all my strength to not call them horrible bratty children because the reality is they are not but I wanted to so badly just because I had the stunned power; for a moment I was a bully for just a minute or in hind sight thats what I was.

Yet the reality its not only just the kids bickering complaining, constantly asking me the same question and calling my name its also the others in my life whose behaviour I cant control or understand but feel a little responsible for even though I’m not but do feel responsible for that is. So Saturday morning it was the final straw for me that bickering over what to have for lunch. Jam sandwiches or Vegemite oh the dilemma of having a choice of lunch. At that moment after struggling through the supermarket, saying No for what seemed a thousand times, down the car park (which is on a god damn hill who builds a supermarket on a hill; seriously) all in the rain. It all seemed to hard and nothing at that moment seemed enough and yes it was little lack self control. It was a tantrum and as got in the car I slammed the door. I had to tell someone I’m giving every ounce of myself. Every ounce. Couldn’t they see that. Cant they meaning the others too see that? No I guess not.

Am I sorry for the out burst that left them in stunned silence and me sobbing in the seat in the middle of a full Woolworth’s car park?

No, sort of, yes all of that at once. As soon as I spun around to hold the steering wheel, gain a little composure and see who if anyone had watched what had occurred. No one or if they did didn’t stick around for what may have come their way. I sobbed. Guilt hit me like a monsoonal storm that I had spoken to my children like that. That I had grabbed my child’s wrist hard knowing I was possibly hurting him or worse scaring him. Guilt that I had lost my patience and that the reality is only I can fix it. Me. So a vow has been made with myself for me despite having made it before I have allowed it to lapse and this this tantrum is the result.

Are you crying my eldest ask. At this point I was calm and I spoke quietly head down. The tears had stopped as quick as that monsoonal down pour arrived. Wasted tears in my book. Tears get you know where but ruined mascara hence why I tint my lashes yes I’m a saver at heart. Do you think I like yelling at you? I said with a heavy sigh. Do you think it makes me feel better? It makes me feel awful like it does you crummy. I hate it. Hate it. I feel like the worst person in  the world. I hate it but I get so (insert swear word at your own leisure) frustrated bubba. I’m doing all that I can for you, your brothers and for everyone else and more and yet its feels like its not enough for you for anyone. Me yelling at you makes me feel like I’m a horrible person and I’m sorry that I have done it.

They sat. Quietly thinking or too afraid to speak I don’t know which. I sat trying just regain my thoughts for a minute.

Then it came.

Its okay mum, I get it said my eldest. Do you? I said not really believing him, he is after all seven years old, he still believes in Santa and the tooth fairy how could he ‘get it’. Yes he said. Your not a horrible person mum your a good person and your our mum and you are doing your job, its a big job. If he was able to read I could have sworn he had read my blog but the reality is reading is as frustrating to him as me being asked the same question ninety times in a row so I have to take his word that he ‘gets it’.

Right I said with a huff.

Yes said B2 the ones whose wrist I had held, the one who I couldn’t look at just yet. Your a good person. Its okay. I’m sorry that I treated you that way he said. I turned and looked at him suspicious. Did he stick something on my back? Because he is five and he would do that. What did you do? I said. I asked you for something I knew I couldn’t have when you said I couldn’t have it just in case I could get you to change your mind.

Yes said B3. That’s all he had to offer but then he is three. I know he doesn’t ‘get it’.

Your a good person mum and we love you B1 said. Trust him to say it he always knows the right thing and when to say. How I don’t know he just does.

Right I said again and I hung my head a little lower. Mother guilt wanting me to slink out of the car park.

Well I said lets see if we can get out of the car park with out an argument over which way to go home. Yes they said in unison.

I wish we I could say we did make it out of the car park without an argument but I would be lying and that’s not what I’m about. And for those of you kind enough to tell me to grow up I am but this tantrum thing will happen again; I know it will but I’m human in enough to understand that and human enough to get that I’m the adult and all that ‘stuff’ but I thank you for your comments will take them on board and please if you must comment send them to the following possible fictional address thankyouforyourjudgment@itstakenonboard.com.au

The quiet bickering commenced as soon I started reversing.

But its okay I just turned up the radio.

xx Deb

 

Dear B3,

What can I say you turn four today. I am not ready for it my last baby is officially no longer a baby it brings a lump to my throat that I am having trouble containing.

You my sweet boy were destined to fill that empty chair in the kitchen long before you arrived on the 02.04.2009 at 2pm. You like your brothers have taught me so much. That parenting is not an exact science and each child must be taught and shown differently. You have challenged me on every level. My patience, my parenting and my own intelligence.

You are a clever boy. Loving and sincere. I love how you climb into bed with me every morning at 2 am and how you say I love you mum without cause. Please never ever let that stop; well maybe climbing into my bed..but you will know when that will be and until then I will relish having you snuggle into me and whisper to me as you drift off to sleep I love you mum. I wait for that.

You love to dance, sing and play the drums. Scooby Doo and dinosaur train are your thing right now and I love how we watch Peppa Pig together in the afternoon because its your favourite and mine.

Everything is your ‘favourite’ just as you are mine.

You are my favourite number three boy.

Happy fourth birthday baby boy,

xx Mum.

Remember Michael J Fox? Loved him as a kid and a teenager. So when I came across his New York home published in AD magazine just had to share.

Its rather stylish you think? They had a little help from the interior design firm Gomez and associates to help deck it out.

Have a great Tuesday,

xx Deb

Yesterday was Easter Sunday we went skiing and tubing. I’m a now feign on the biscuit..although I’m paying the price this morning. I can barley lift my arms and breathing is something that hurts. I’m hoping its my muscles reintroducing themselves to me again rather than a broken rib after my gentlemen of husband ribbed the tube from under me on more than one occasion as we went pelting across the water at full speed.

We were tubing together. A first. We were competitive. We were Debbie and Forrest and it was great. Our kids watched on in the boat in front of us. Seeing us as Debbie and Forrest not as mum and dad and they loved it. What they didn’t love and what I did was how daddy was being ‘mean’ to mum and mum obviously loosing. What was even better..the tongue lashing they gave him when finally after much tussle and throw he succeeded. It for both of us wonderful.

So I sit here sore, happy and waiting with baited breath because its April Fools my husbands idea of Christmas and my idea of hell. Here is my few things for this April Fools Day the first day of April (obviously; can you believe its the start of the FOURTH month?)

1. While at the dam yesterday the Red Bull Promo girls pulled up. Long haired, tanned, slim and wearing just enough they were cute perhaps hot for some. Ignoring the ladies at our ‘camp’ they commenced flirting with the boys. The boys responded accordingly. It doesn’t matter how old men are they are its the same reaction to a pretty girls. Personally I don’t care if my husband looks at a pretty girl. I’m not the jealous type just not not when I love a equal good look too. Its fun and I know my husband is my husband. However my sister in-law slightly more liberal in her thoughts on such matters looked at me not sure weather to be offended by the girls obvious exclusion of us, her husbands reaction and the young girls limited dress. I looked at her. Its okay I said They are doing their job and doing it very well and one day they too may have children. Right she said and went happily about her business.

2. It was so nice having a house full its even nicer getting it back. In three days we went through 16 litres of milk, 12 rolls of toliet paper and three boxes of Weetbix. We wont go into how much chocolate was consumed by six kids and seven adults because it may or may not impress you but don’t worry its once a year and my kids don’t sit in front of a TV, i-pad, computer, i-pod, a DS Nintendo, a wii or any other electrical device that cause them to sit stationary for hours on end …we have a thing called a back yard..I brought it with them in mind and I’m getting my moneys worth.

3. We couldn’t go camping this weekend so the kids set up the tent on the veranda wasn’t the same but it kept them happy..sigh..mother guilt I cant give them what I had..

4. I went and got professionally fitted for a new bra last week. Yesterday my brother in law asked if I had a boob job; my sister in law was to shy to ask or so he says. You want to know something just ask. I should have done it years ago. Wait I couldn’t because I have had children using them as a feeding mechanism a very worth while cause but lets be realistic Thelma and Louise will never look at the same again. The bra fitter told me to pop my new bra on I told her after three kids I would lift and pour instead.

5. Its B3 birthday tomorrow. I don’t do birthdays very well. I cry. A Lot. He will be 4. He is officially not a baby any more. Its going be a tough one.

6. Wanting to organise your home then you must head here after you have read this riveting stuff of course.

7. I am loving that the Swedes are using real life sized mannequins in department stores. Head here to have a look. They look awesome. They look so real I’m not sure that displaying dresses will be their only purpose.

8. Found some nice lady erotic sites..will share them during the week..ahem..if I have the courage..its to help get the ‘mood’ going…the things I do for you..press the like button to let me know if would like me too..its morse code for bring it on…seriously.

9. Rhianna and Chris brown may have called it quits here’s hoping.

10. Next time your husband is determined to get you into a pair of Louie heels..be a little cautious..a Japanese man as tried killing a woman by lacing her shoes with poison. Read more about it here.

So with those few things off my mind and the scream of my husband asking me what the hell am I doing I’m off. Have a great Easter Monday.

How do cope with your kids birthdays?Do you mind your husbands looking at a pretty girl? and what’s your thoughts on female erotica? 

xx Deb