Recently I've grown weary of the Tetris Family Challenge. I've been playing for a few years and my affection for the game is temporarily wavering. I say temporarily because it is unlikely I will stop participating in this particular challenge anytime soon. And to resign myself to permanent frustration about my living situation would be pretty miserable. So I will persevere on the condition that you indulge me this opportunity to vent.
If you're not familiar with the challenge I'm bemoaning, it's the one where you live in a relatively compact space and your life starts to resemble the computer game, Tetris, that you may have played as a child or a bored adult on a plane. The computer game involves moving and rotating shapes to fit into neat rows. It gets harder as the number of shapes grows. The real life version involves moving and rotating every-day items in your home to access other every-day items in your house on a really regular basis. Similarly it gets harder the more you, and your family, grow.
For example, take the hair-dryer. It either sits on the washing basket which means every time I put clothes in (frequently) or put a load of washing on (also frequently) I have to move the hairdryer. This usually involves it falling into the basket and getting tangled with said clothes. The alternative is to place it under the bathroom cabinet. To make room for it in there I have to move the toilet paper, bathroom bags, washers, spare soap and not-every-day cosmetics that live under there, shove it in and forget about the precarious balance until I next open the cabinet and everything falls out. Repeating this exercise every second day is grating.
Granted, neither scenario is particularly arduous but it is the cumulative effect that makes this challenge ever-so-slightly painful. Because the hairdryer is only one tiny piece of the puzzle. Or Tetris screen. Sheets, towels, the washing basket, a soaking bucket, the drying rack, the ironing board, the iron, the vacuum cleaner, chopping boards, the bathmat, overnight bags and blankets are among the other key offenders in the NABM household. Because storage is limited none of these objects has a particularly comfortable or accessible home. It's always a matter of moving one to get to another to get to another.
Washing is particularly challenging because as far as wardrobe space goes we're better off when there are two loads of washing either in the machine, folded in the basket or hanging on the rack. There's just not enough room in our drawers and cupboard for all our clothes to be in there at once. This is frustrating when I'd love to remove the hanging rack from the living room or an overfilled washing basket from the dining table. Anyway.
I thought I had mastered all of this quite well from our time living in England. Our student flat there was small for two adults and decidedly cramped with a third family member mostly because of the amount of clobber and equipment that our small flatmate necessitated. With just a bar fridge and very limited cupboard space the Oxford version of the Tetris-Family Challenge was admittedly more advanced than the Sydney game we're now playing. Here, we have a full-sized fridge, decent kitchen cupboards and spare bench space.
As I contemplated a small melt-down prompted by an unsuccessful attempt at finding space for four loads of washing I remembered an interview I did last year. The head of IKEA in Australia was explaining that when they send consultants into homes around the world we all share the same frustrations in our living spaces. Whether you live in a five bedroom house in America's mid-West or a tiny apartment in Tokyo, apparently, we all struggle with the same little details. And I find that quite comforting. Obviously I just need an IKEA fairy to come and sort us out*.
*This post was not sponsored by IKEA**.
** If it were I would OBVIOUSLY have stated it right up front. Can you really imagine me NOT sharing that potentially amazing development?? Hell. No.
Wednesday 25 April 2012
Wednesday 18 April 2012
Balancing the trolley
You are totally forgiven for thinking I am neurotic. Because I am. And if you didn't realise that before now, reading this will make it crystal clear.
I recently went grocery shopping with Miss I. It was a rainy Saturday at a busy shopping centre so it was hardly ideal but our cupboards were bare and Mr G was working so I had no choice. Miss I was actually in great form, so long as she was holding the list and the pen and I made no gesture towards touching either. It also helped that Coles were offering toasted hot cross buns with butter. So, unlike some trips where the only neurotic behaviour in my immediate vicinity comes from my adorable companion, on this occasion I only had myself to blame.
Mr G and I plan meals each week, write a list and do the shop accordingly. Admittedly we go through periods where the roster of meals that appears on our weekly menu are, err, identical, but we still do the shop by list thing. It does save time and possibly money but most valuably it cuts down decision making during the week. As I manoeuvred my trolley around the people-packed aisles I became aware of the dialogue inside my head. Always an enlightening exercise. There were three threads of thought fighting one another for airtime. Budget. Convenience. Nutrition.
As I picked up each item to instruct Miss I to cross off our list* I was quietly appraising its performance against the criteria eating their way through my thoughts. I soon realised the problem, and source of my minor mental anguish, was that my key criteria do not always co-exist happily. In many cases they're contradictory. Convenient items are often more expensive; but they save me precious time and sanity when it comes to preparing an evening meal in ten minutes flat. They're also not always as nutritious as preparing meals from scratch but that's not always feasible. At least not every night. Another catch is that the healthier products are usually more expensive – wholegrain bread is almost double the price of plain white bread; lean meat is always more expensive than the fattier cuts; healthy snacks like nuts and trail mix cost a small fortune. And so it goes on.
I can't sacrifice any of the competing priorities because cost, nutrition and convenience all matter in the NABM household. So instead it is a balancing act. One that until that particular day I hadn't realised I participated in.
It dawned on me afterwards that the balancing act of doing our groceries is not unlike the various balancing acts we all inadvertently undertake during the course of our lives. Whether it's balancing study time with leisure; work with exercise; family time with personal pursuits; friends with partners; spending with saving; chocolate with broccoli; wine with water; the news with reality television; we all balance competing priorities. All the time.
I suppose for someone slightly neurotic like myself, it's important to remember it's not particularly helpful to mentally appraise the elusive balance at every turn. Or at every item on the shelf as it were that Saturday. Shopping with a list should at least save me from that grief.
What priorities are you balancing at the moment? Or do you have any supermarket wisdom?
*I am clearly lying. Miss I has not yet developed the ability to read, write or cross items off a list.
I recently went grocery shopping with Miss I. It was a rainy Saturday at a busy shopping centre so it was hardly ideal but our cupboards were bare and Mr G was working so I had no choice. Miss I was actually in great form, so long as she was holding the list and the pen and I made no gesture towards touching either. It also helped that Coles were offering toasted hot cross buns with butter. So, unlike some trips where the only neurotic behaviour in my immediate vicinity comes from my adorable companion, on this occasion I only had myself to blame.
Mr G and I plan meals each week, write a list and do the shop accordingly. Admittedly we go through periods where the roster of meals that appears on our weekly menu are, err, identical, but we still do the shop by list thing. It does save time and possibly money but most valuably it cuts down decision making during the week. As I manoeuvred my trolley around the people-packed aisles I became aware of the dialogue inside my head. Always an enlightening exercise. There were three threads of thought fighting one another for airtime. Budget. Convenience. Nutrition.
As I picked up each item to instruct Miss I to cross off our list* I was quietly appraising its performance against the criteria eating their way through my thoughts. I soon realised the problem, and source of my minor mental anguish, was that my key criteria do not always co-exist happily. In many cases they're contradictory. Convenient items are often more expensive; but they save me precious time and sanity when it comes to preparing an evening meal in ten minutes flat. They're also not always as nutritious as preparing meals from scratch but that's not always feasible. At least not every night. Another catch is that the healthier products are usually more expensive – wholegrain bread is almost double the price of plain white bread; lean meat is always more expensive than the fattier cuts; healthy snacks like nuts and trail mix cost a small fortune. And so it goes on.
I can't sacrifice any of the competing priorities because cost, nutrition and convenience all matter in the NABM household. So instead it is a balancing act. One that until that particular day I hadn't realised I participated in.
It dawned on me afterwards that the balancing act of doing our groceries is not unlike the various balancing acts we all inadvertently undertake during the course of our lives. Whether it's balancing study time with leisure; work with exercise; family time with personal pursuits; friends with partners; spending with saving; chocolate with broccoli; wine with water; the news with reality television; we all balance competing priorities. All the time.
I suppose for someone slightly neurotic like myself, it's important to remember it's not particularly helpful to mentally appraise the elusive balance at every turn. Or at every item on the shelf as it were that Saturday. Shopping with a list should at least save me from that grief.
What priorities are you balancing at the moment? Or do you have any supermarket wisdom?
*I am clearly lying. Miss I has not yet developed the ability to read, write or cross items off a list.
Wednesday 11 April 2012
Happy Blogday
Today marks my first birthday as a blogger. Cake all around! Twelve months ago I sat in the little student flat in Oxford that was then our home and, spurred on by a few friends, pressed publish. NABM was born. I was a stay at home mum to our ten month old daughter and at the time I wasn't sure how often, about what or for whom I would blog. But I started anyway. It quickly became a beloved outlet that I enjoyed more than I had ever imagined and I blogged a few times every week.
Now, I write less frequently from our more grown up, slightly bigger, apartment in Sydney. I'm a mum to a 22 month old girl and work four days a week. My life is a little different but a few things have remained the same. Writing this is one. As is the fact I can't imagine what I did without this spot to vent; to share; to quiet the whir of words inside my head.
Even without an audience I'd still enjoy writing. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my absolute favourite part of having this blog is the chance to interact with you, my lovely readers. My audience is very modest in size but I like to think what you lack in vast numbers you make up for in sharp characteristics – humour, sincerity, intellect and style. Wouldn't you agree???
I can vouch for some of you with certainty because I'm lucky enough to know you. But I extend the benefit of doubt to those readers who I don't know because I know you're out there (hi!) and I just assume you're fabulous too.
About a month ago, over the course of a week, I received some kind feedback from people I don't know and people I know but hadn't seen or spoken to for years. Through Facebook, my work email, Twitter and the comment section a couple of people got in touch. Their comments literally made me smile for a week. And, not for the first time, it made me wonder exactly who you are.
I'm stealing this idea from a MegaBlogger, Mrs Woog from WoogsWorld, because I saw it a few weeks back and immediately thought it would be a fun way to mark the BlogDay milestone. Mrs Woog asked her readers to 'de-lurk' – to come out and tell her who they are. Not by name and address obviously but something about themselves.
So, dear readers, my ears are pricked. I dare you to tell me something about yourself – what you do, where you live, whether you have kids, or a pet pig, how you found this blog, what makes you happy to be alive or anything else you feel like sharing. De-lurk away! And THANK YOU for reading.
Now, I write less frequently from our more grown up, slightly bigger, apartment in Sydney. I'm a mum to a 22 month old girl and work four days a week. My life is a little different but a few things have remained the same. Writing this is one. As is the fact I can't imagine what I did without this spot to vent; to share; to quiet the whir of words inside my head.
Even without an audience I'd still enjoy writing. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that my absolute favourite part of having this blog is the chance to interact with you, my lovely readers. My audience is very modest in size but I like to think what you lack in vast numbers you make up for in sharp characteristics – humour, sincerity, intellect and style. Wouldn't you agree???
I can vouch for some of you with certainty because I'm lucky enough to know you. But I extend the benefit of doubt to those readers who I don't know because I know you're out there (hi!) and I just assume you're fabulous too.
About a month ago, over the course of a week, I received some kind feedback from people I don't know and people I know but hadn't seen or spoken to for years. Through Facebook, my work email, Twitter and the comment section a couple of people got in touch. Their comments literally made me smile for a week. And, not for the first time, it made me wonder exactly who you are.
I'm stealing this idea from a MegaBlogger, Mrs Woog from WoogsWorld, because I saw it a few weeks back and immediately thought it would be a fun way to mark the BlogDay milestone. Mrs Woog asked her readers to 'de-lurk' – to come out and tell her who they are. Not by name and address obviously but something about themselves.
So, dear readers, my ears are pricked. I dare you to tell me something about yourself – what you do, where you live, whether you have kids, or a pet pig, how you found this blog, what makes you happy to be alive or anything else you feel like sharing. De-lurk away! And THANK YOU for reading.
Friday 6 April 2012
A little game
Two weeks ago Ingrid from Glossy Beauty kindly nominated me for an Innovative Blogger Award. I was immediately flattered as I love awards and rarely win any. Leaving Primary School ended a brief and happy period in my life where awards were dished out regularly. Alas. Anyway I discovered the Versatile Blogger Awards are a great little game designed to share the link love among other bloggers.
- In Grade 10 I was the only person, out of about 100, who tried out for softball and didn't make a team. It hurt my feelings and pride. A lot. It also very briefly damaged my friendship with Joyce who had dragged me along insisting that 'everyone gets in a team!'
-I love weddings.
-At the end of my first year of uni I lived in Canada for six months and spent a month in both Alaska and Mexico.
-I can't tell left from right without putting my hands up to see which forms the shape of an 'L'. True story.
-I write for a business magazine and quite genuinely love my job.
-I have a gorgeous little girl who was born in England in May 2010. I was in labour for 38 hours before she arrived. Luckily she was worth the wait. It still took me several weeks before I could comprehend why anyone has ever had more than one child though.
-I had Crohn's disease for seven years but thankfully it has been in remission for four years.
Ten Blogs to bookmark
The rules are as follows:
- Thank the person who nominated you with a link back. Thank you Ingrid!
- Share 7 things about you
- Pass this on to 10 newly discovered blogs and let them know they received the award.
Seven things about me
-I love weddings.
-At the end of my first year of uni I lived in Canada for six months and spent a month in both Alaska and Mexico.
-I can't tell left from right without putting my hands up to see which forms the shape of an 'L'. True story.
-I write for a business magazine and quite genuinely love my job.
-I have a gorgeous little girl who was born in England in May 2010. I was in labour for 38 hours before she arrived. Luckily she was worth the wait. It still took me several weeks before I could comprehend why anyone has ever had more than one child though.
-I had Crohn's disease for seven years but thankfully it has been in remission for four years.
Now for the part where I get to nominate 10 blogs for awards. I have nominated the blogs that I actually read regularly. They cover topics from fashion, food and family to mental illness, leadership and life. If you're looking for new reading material click right through!
Ten Blogs to bookmark
3. Faux Fuchsia
6. Woogsworld
7. Life.Styled
Sunday 1 April 2012
In times of trouble
Regular readers might recall my slightly evangelical stance on honesty. It's not that I think everyone needs to broadcast their every emotion to the entire world. Though, if anyone did choose to do that my goodness my ears would be ready and willing to listen. It's more that when it comes to connecting to the people closest to us, personally, I think more is gained by being frank about the good bits as well as the less-than-good bits. Because there's not a soul on this earth who doesn't have less-than-good times, at least, occasionally, so why pretend otherwise?
I'm not so pedantic that I actually enforce these rules on all of my friends. I know lots of people who prefer to keep things to themselves - which I begrudgingly accept - and whom I love regardless. But when it comes to me I struggle to hide my struggles. Probably less because I am a person of strong convictions and more because I am a big talker. Love. To. Talk.
Anyway it's my little honesty penchant that made me realise I need to fill you in. If you have read my last few posts, there's a chance you might think my life is all French champagne and weekends gallivanting around Sydney with friends. Fortunately there are moments when my life is those things. And those moments are lovely. But there are also times when it's not that rosy. Not even close.
It's not remotely appropriate for me to tell you why but suffice to say I have had some less-than-good moments lately. If you're anything like me, that is an infuriating admission. ("You can't say that and not tell me why!!!") Annoyingly, in this forum, however, 'less-than-good' is going to have to do. Which I accept is less-than-good itself. But moving on…
In times of trouble my natural instinct is to curl up in the foetal position. If circumstances permit, I will literally lie curled in a ball. When circumstances don't permit, I assume the position in my head and hope it will soon pass. It rarely does without some form of positive action that rarely takes place in a foetal position, real or otherwise. This week I discovered, not for the first time, that small children are actually a blessing in these times.
While Miss I had her nap on my day off from work, I lay on my bed and felt sad. Really sad. I lay there wishing that either Mr G or my own mum would magically show up in our flat and take over my caring responsibilities for the afternoon. I didn't feel up to parenting and I just wanted to stay very still. And, then, Miss I woke up and my longings mattered no longer. Not one for indulging her mother in any pity she was raring to go.
There was a sleeping bag she was rushing to remove herself from, a nappy to be changed, afternoon snacks to be devoured (NOW!), books to be read and cupboards to be destroyed. There were meltdowns, cuddles, slobbery kisses and many of her little laughs. Inside I wasn't nearly as light-hearted or joyful as her gorgeous giggles but, because of them, I was a whole lot happier than when she slept. She is an all-consuming distraction and happily the space she gave me from my sadness that afternoon helped. It didn't, and hasn't, disappeared. It's not simple. But it did help.
When you experience a less-than-good time what do you do to cope? Watch terrible TV? Eat rocky road? Cry? Resort to recreational drugs? Share your top tips!
I'm not so pedantic that I actually enforce these rules on all of my friends. I know lots of people who prefer to keep things to themselves - which I begrudgingly accept - and whom I love regardless. But when it comes to me I struggle to hide my struggles. Probably less because I am a person of strong convictions and more because I am a big talker. Love. To. Talk.
Anyway it's my little honesty penchant that made me realise I need to fill you in. If you have read my last few posts, there's a chance you might think my life is all French champagne and weekends gallivanting around Sydney with friends. Fortunately there are moments when my life is those things. And those moments are lovely. But there are also times when it's not that rosy. Not even close.
It's not remotely appropriate for me to tell you why but suffice to say I have had some less-than-good moments lately. If you're anything like me, that is an infuriating admission. ("You can't say that and not tell me why!!!") Annoyingly, in this forum, however, 'less-than-good' is going to have to do. Which I accept is less-than-good itself. But moving on…
In times of trouble my natural instinct is to curl up in the foetal position. If circumstances permit, I will literally lie curled in a ball. When circumstances don't permit, I assume the position in my head and hope it will soon pass. It rarely does without some form of positive action that rarely takes place in a foetal position, real or otherwise. This week I discovered, not for the first time, that small children are actually a blessing in these times.
While Miss I had her nap on my day off from work, I lay on my bed and felt sad. Really sad. I lay there wishing that either Mr G or my own mum would magically show up in our flat and take over my caring responsibilities for the afternoon. I didn't feel up to parenting and I just wanted to stay very still. And, then, Miss I woke up and my longings mattered no longer. Not one for indulging her mother in any pity she was raring to go.
There was a sleeping bag she was rushing to remove herself from, a nappy to be changed, afternoon snacks to be devoured (NOW!), books to be read and cupboards to be destroyed. There were meltdowns, cuddles, slobbery kisses and many of her little laughs. Inside I wasn't nearly as light-hearted or joyful as her gorgeous giggles but, because of them, I was a whole lot happier than when she slept. She is an all-consuming distraction and happily the space she gave me from my sadness that afternoon helped. It didn't, and hasn't, disappeared. It's not simple. But it did help.
When you experience a less-than-good time what do you do to cope? Watch terrible TV? Eat rocky road? Cry? Resort to recreational drugs? Share your top tips!
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