Managing My Crazy. Not.

This has been the longest blogging break ever.

Did you miss me?

No, didn’t think so. *sarcastic smile*

Ever wondered how previously stay-at-home self-employed Mum’s of three small children return to full time work without losing their mental capacity to string more than a sentence together, stay awake past 9pm and still manage to do all the Mama Kat things while being succesful at their new job?  Newsflash: It’s freakin’ hard.

It has been a challenge…to state the understated.

So, something had to give and yet again, this blog was it.

I love teaching.  I love my family.  I love my bed.  But, personally, intimately and for my own way to manage my internal dialogue of crazy, I need to write, I need to dance, I need to cosy up in my hammock, I need to fill up my well of love with much beauty, peace and contentment.

Just two weeks in and I’ve not done a whole lot of those four things.

Things are going to change.

I’m vow to get my funk on…and it’s back to Soul Dance in the valley every Friday night for some serious hippie boogie beats.

I vow to write at least one blog post (and a chapter of my sixth – yes, sixth- novel) each week.

I vow to spend at least 15 minutes each weekend just sitting at the hammock, practising Santosha and surrender.  Bring it on, Master Buddha and Little Ms. Kuan Yin.

If you’re on instagram, facebook or twitter, you will notice though that I’ve still had time for many selfies.  I think I’ve been missing those photo shoots of old.

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So, my darlings, if you’re still following me, thanks.  Jurlique…my blog sponsor…thanks gals.  You peeps rock…and so get the working Mama Kat who is doing an inept job of managing crazy.

Life flows on, as does my river, as does the money out of my bank account, as does the sun go down and the moon come up.  It is beautiful and unchanging.  But, Goddess help me, if there are any working Mama Kat’s out there who can pop me some advice how to manage my life, I’d love you forever!

Do you work full time, with young kids?  Got any advice?  

I bloody need it.  I promise you much virtual love and hugs.

P.S This post was written when I should’ve been preparing dinner, while drinking wine, while screaming kids ranted about how hungry they are around me, while my cats meowed for their dinner, while my phone kept going off as my Mum texted me about her new plant purchase…while, while, while…

Unicorns Are Pooping Rainbows: What Matters Today

I was going to write about teachers’ strikes, Tony Abbott, the right to gay marriage and whether working mothers can  really ‘have it all’.

But you know what? I’m not going to.

I’ve been reminded, yet again, what really matters.

 

An infectious giggle.

A two-armed squeezy hug.

A smile that says, “I really really trust you … I love you … You are everything to me … I need you”.

 

IMG 2119 225x300 Unicorns Are Pooping Rainbows: What Matters Today

 

They are my reasons for breathing, for being alive. My reasons for choosing to wake up each morning and deal with my internal crazy and for plodding along during plod-along-days, for battling through on I-can’t-do-this-days, for laughing like a woman possessed when the sun is bright and the skies are blue.

So, yes. Some women will have it all or not have any of it. Tony Abbott will or won’t get voted in by the Australian people. The LGBT’s rights to marry will or won’t come to pass. And, teachers will strike, or maybe they won’t.

But today, it doesn’t matter. And, I do not give a flying word beginning with F and ending with K.

I’m not saying that I don’t care about these community, national, global issues but some times, we just need to realise what we have in our own home, our own back yard, our own lives.

And in my life, it begins here.  These three beings are why I have a beginning…and a middle … and an end.

I have these three things, and to me, in this moment, they are all that matter…not the politics, just them.

Sometimes we just need reminding.

A Celebration Of Being Powerfully Female: Being A Cunning Linguist REVAMPED

7008399 s 1 A Celebration Of Being Powerfully Female: Being A Cunning Linguist REVAMPED

Sexually explicit topics and links to sexually explicit websites feature in this post. This post is strictly for adults (and mature ones at that) only.

“Guys have ONE switch: ON/OFF. Women are like the cockpit of a 747.” – unknown

 

On this International Women’s Day Eve Eve,  it’s time that the women of the world had a chance to shout out their need for more oral sex satisfaction of the decent variety. No more should we suffer silently as our lovers impart joyless foreplay in the form of random tongue darting, pointless male-porn-star-replicated tickle action, or generic vacuum-like sucking on random parts of non-sexual-nerve-enhanced genitalia until you feel like your insides are going to appear outside.

8433583 s A Celebration Of Being Powerfully Female: Being A Cunning Linguist REVAMPED

 

Girls want the hardcore, screaming orgasms that are only generated by men who really care. We want men who love to love what we love, and who listen when we’re not saying anything, because we’re either too shy or we’re too excited to form recognisable words.

It is my firm opinion that women love oral sex as much as men do. Men’s needs just seem to get more publicity…no further snarky comments needed here…because WE KNOW.

To get a good idea about what 21st century gals really want, I’ve conducted a random survey among my circle of minx’s.  Well…to be honest, we all sat down over coffee and cake and talked bonking.  I admit that my circle of friends is not a huge one but they come from all walks of life, cover several spiritual and ethnic backgrounds and span ages from 20-52. Quite a diverse bunch…and a pretty good reflection of what we might see in the general XX Australian population.

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Worst Post Ever: Is anyone there? It’s me, Random Blogger.

 

blog Worst Post Ever: Is anyone there? Its me, Random Blogger.

Hi.

Everyone seems to know when their blog’s birthday is.  I don’t.  I think I started it July 2011?  Does that mean I don’t care? I don’t know.  I do know that not much has happened since its’ so-called birth.  Ridiculous.  A blog’s birthday. Sometimes I think blogging is such a wank.

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Cinnamon Almond Milkshake And A Whinge

I know I don’t normally do recipes but I’m going to start.

I’m on this ridiculously bizarre diet at the moment where it’s easier to write what I can eat than what I can’t because the cant’s just takes to long…but here goes.

NO grains, legumes, soy and soy products, meat (unless grass fed), dairy, apples, tomatoes, potatoes, sweet potatoes, quinoa/ancient grains, processed food and no sugar, honey, rice syrup, maple syrup or any other sweetener, natural or otherwise, no herbal tea (I KNOW!), coffee, soda’s, juice (unless home made)…no alcohol.

See?!

And, coming from someone who was previously vegan, this diet is HARD WORK.  I can’t eat legumes or grains so there goes my staple diet.  Never mind the six cups of divinely scrummy chai and herbal tea I used to drink.

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Giveaway Melb Theatre Tix: How much are you willing to change for love?

the shape of things hero Giveaway Melb Theatre Tix: How much are you willing to change for love?

 

As soon as I read the opening line in the media release for this show, I knew I’d be going to see it.

How much are you willing to change for someone you love?

This is the story of my life.

I am a serial monogamist.  In and out of relationships, barely a break in between.  Hell, I even got married twice in the space of 11 months.  Impossible you say?!  Well, not if one of them wasn’t legally binding!

In almost every relationship, I have changed myself somehow.  When I met my current husband, I was a crazy, feral hippie who hadn’t worn shoes or a bra for a couple of years, sported piercings, dreads, beads and unwashed hair, multitudes of beautiful natural fibre colourful clothing and had a penchant for hairy, philosophical, spiritually-inclined musicians who smoked pot to bring out their Inner God.  Just six months later I was wearing surf brand jeans and hoodies. He doesn’t like hippies.  Needless to say he thinks nearly all of my friends are “a little odd”.  Yet, he fell in love with me…a hippie.

Bit by bit, the internal hippie Goddess has been clawing her way back out again, freaking him out every so often.

Inside I didn’t change.  And, he never asked me to change.  But, you want to dress in a way that attracts your partner, right?  So, I did. That meant becoming ‘boring’ and ‘mainstream’.  I sound like such a wanker.  *silent laughter*

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Weekly Wifle: Exams are erasing my brain cells

Hi y’all.

I’m in the midst of my final exams at the moment.

So, no new posts are going to be coming your way until the weekend.

I can’t wait until it’s all over.  This journey of retraining as a teacher at the age of 36 has been long, ardous and harder to manage with three kids and a full time job than I could have ever imagined.

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Our River: Just Letting It Go

We have a river on our doorstep.   I love our river.  It is partially what keeps me the Manager Of My Own Crazy.

IMG 5207 Our River: Just Letting It Go

 

On a hot day, it is a hub of community and bliss.  Kids with parents, people with dogs, school children, teenagers, everyone.  Our town mixes in like the best trifle you ever ate.

At the river, we seem to bask in the community of it all; swimming in the rapids, floating lazily on our river through our mountains, or dangling toes in the water.  We forget the small town ‘stuff’ and know quietly that we are a community who defines itself by our river.

You see, our river has stories.  Small country town type stories.  It guards them closely, and in return, we protect it.  Fiercely.

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Fuck The Fear: Even my shit is scared (a post deserved of foul language)

fuck off ecard Fuck The Fear: Even my shit is scared (a post deserved of foul language)

After a month of contemplation, a few weeks ago I came up with the theory that my real problem is that I am afraid of being afraid.

I’m not kidding you. It sounds ridiculous, I know.  Even as I type it, I realise how wanky it sounds.

Nevertheless, it is true.  I am fearful of fear.  Chunk it up even more and it becomes, I am afraid of things that make me fearful, like dying for instance.  Mortality is really the clincher.

To cut a very boring and ardous story short (and slice out the many hours spent with my counsellor deciphering the crazy goings on in my annoyingly complicated mind), I decided that this was The Year to Fuck the Fear.  Has a nice ring to it, does it not?!  But…not just face it, but entirely annihilate it, get it in a head lock all Kill Bill like and rip its spine out old school Mortal Kombat style.

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