Hi, you've reached Sarah......

"Hi, you've reached Sarah. Sorry I can't take your call at the moment, but if you leave your name, number and a brief message, I will get back to you as soon as I can."

God, you don't know how many times I've wanted to say that today. Life would be a breeze with a message bank option on day to day stuff. 

You see, it's a hard day for some reason today. I'm trying to avoid battles with Miss 3, without making her a spoiled brat. I have picked my battles based on social situations, and even though they were long, and hard fought, I won. In the end that is. Even after a heart stopping moment where I couldn't find her in PillowTalk because she ran off. Again. Despite mummy telling her that it was scary for her when she ran off. So she giggled and ran off for the umpteenth time.

I've washed, run down to rescue it from the impending shower of rain. I've made the pikelets for daycare (pink this week), I've made DH and Miss3 their banana choc chip muffins for work and daycare. 

I'm tired, I'm grumpy, I'm not feeling 100%, and I am struggling. 

I find it hard to admit that sometimes, because when I do, people don't always understand. They don't understand what I mean, they don't understand why, they don't understand I don't want to be engaged in conversation. 

Sometimes, it makes me feel like I've failed. But I know in myself that I haven't. I am successful in my job, I'm doing a project that is extremely rewarding and challenging that I LOVE being a part of, I have an awesome husband, and a stubborn, strong-willed, independent, intelligent young daughter. When she sings the North Melbourne Club Song to me, I KNOW I've done something right. So when she wakes up from her nap, I'm going to give her a great, big cuddle and ask her to sing "Norse Melbourne" for me. 

This will be after I have had my me time, checked the other IBOT posts and I've eaten that cheesy pizza baking in my oven that has my name written all over it.

Obviously, I'm linking up with Essentially Jess for the wonderful IBOT. Happy Tuesday.

FYBF - Where did my money tree go?

I'm kicking myself.

I'm also kicking my husband. Metaphorically, of course.

You see, four years ago, in our newly pregnant wisdom, we upgraded my car. My old car was a beautiful, little red Hyundai Accent, affectionately named Red. She was my baby. I'd bought her new 7 years earlier and I hadn't even cracked 40,000km. 

But we decided that a 3 door wasn't practical with gumby old me, so we sold Red privately and upgraded to a Hyundai i30. Which 4 years on hasn't even cracked 25,000km. We did this at the end of June, and the car was registered to us from 28/06/2011.

Not once did we consider that in 4 years time, my licence would also be due. 

As would the insurances on our two cars. 

So this week, I'm skint. $830 for the licence and rego. Luckily, I've successfully remarketed our insurances to a better policy, for a much lower price and bundled all with one insurer now. We dodged a bullet there, as we now have until 20 July to pay them. 

But TAFE have been sending me numerous messages and emails to enrol in my next subject. So I rang them today, fairly confident that I'd be able to afford the $195 I've been paying for my past 6 out of 8 required units. 

But now, the Government has decided that online students aren't important and have taken away all funding. My last two units are going to cost me as much as the last 6 have. They want $590 for the next unit. We can't afford that. I'm not HELP'ing it, either, as it is just something that goes against my beliefs and I cannot bring myself to do it. Plus they charge an extra 30% if you do that. 

So, whoever cut the money tree down out of our backyard, you suck. That money tree would be so handy right now!

I'm linking up with With Some Grace for Flog Yo Blog Friday for the very first time. 

Older and wiser?

What is it about a "milestone" birthday that makes us think we are more mature than we used to be? 

I recently turned 30 and for some reason, I thought I'd all of a sudden stop making stupid decisions, and turn into this wise, calm creature. Neither wise, nor calm have occurred. 

To celebrate the year of three of us turning 30 and one turning 35, my three best friends and I recently went to a local restaurant. I thought that 30 was special enough to break out the fancy pants peep toe heels, that I have had for about 6 years now, thinking that seeing as we are all "old", we wouldn't be seeking a night on the town. How wrong was I....

After dinner, we decided to seek alternative entertainment and hit up the new, hip, trendy place in town. This was a mere 1km away - I've since Googled it! I protested, as I knew my poor, soft feet would. But, these girls are a convincing bunch, so we decided to walk the 1km on the rugged terrain (flat footpath with a few stones and Telstra pits). By the time we got to the new bar, I was all but crying in agony. I could feel my toes disintegrating in my heels. The girls needed a comfort stop (they needed to pee) and we found a bench to sit down on. I carefully slid my heels off and was confronted by big toes so mangled, that almost 4 weeks on, they are still healing.

My sister-friend (the sister you always wanted if you could pick sisters) and I decided to call it a night, especially after another friend (aged 30) quite loudly dissed "The bloody youth of today!". A quick call to hubby and he was on his way to pick us up. Thankfully, we were able to give SF a lift home, as her hubby had their two little ones tucked in bed, and my own DD was off on a sleepover with the grandparents. 

Whilst awaiting our chariot, we were treated to the sights and sounds of the next generation (and possibly past generations, but not me...). There, in the middle of the road, where the centre parking is, leaning over a garden bed, was a figure with their hair being held back while performing oral fertilisation. To my left was a lonely young woman watching the two figures across the road. When the chestnut maned figure stood up, he walked back over towards his female companion, while being congratulatory slapped on the back by his best mate who'd held his hair back while he spewed. The charming young fellow then chased the young lass around whilst making horrible dry retching sounds. 

The night ended with hubby making me walk another 500m in those stupid bloody shoes. But I was tucked up in bed by 10pm. 

I guess turning 30 has made me wiser  -  I know the body and mind can't function on the few hours sleep it used to!

I know this isn't the best return to blogging, but baby steps, people. Baby steps.