10 Ways you know you were a teen in the late 80s and early 90s in Hobart.....

I was just listening to some Veruca Salt and feeling a little nostalgic after I read an article on teens in the 90s - some of it made no sense to me, I was totally in my 20s when I cried over Dawson, Joey and that other dude with the big head.

Then I realised I was a cusp child!  I straddled the 80s and the 90s!  Plus I lived in Hobart which was technically 16 years behind the mainland and 24 behind the rest of the world (except New Zealand....)

Brain started clicking over and the hazy memories came back to me

So here is my list;

You know you're a cusp 80s/90s Teenager of Hobart if;

1.  You stopped using Impulse 'Captivation' deodorant and switched to the pump spray 'Norsca' because of CFCs and the ozone layer

2. You ate chips with strawberry chili sauce at Salamanca Market every Saturday you could

3. You spent time at Aeroplane Records thumbing through the vinyl even though you didn't have a record player

4. You bought your clothes mainly at Myer Miss Shop, Sportsgirl or Cherry Lane because there really wasn't anywhere else

5. You didn't ever go down the water slide at the Clarence Pool because someone told you a pissed off person had stuck razor blades in the joins

6.  You tried to get in to Phantom every Saturday night, or at least that's what you told people when you weren't there

7. You are of the generation that went from paper based MTT bus passes to the plastic tickets that got sucked into a machine that made a weird regurgitating noice

8. Unless you lived past the flannel curtain you never went further north than Creek Road without your parents for fear of being accosted by a chigger

9. There was more than one Parthenon Souvlaki bar and you ate at all of them

10.  You had no idea which was City Hall and which was Town Hall so you just followed to crowd to see RatCat (you still don't know which is which, so you followed the crowd to take your kid to the Play School Concert.....)

Amirite or Amirite!

Feel free to add more Hobartians!

From Teen Emmely....

What a shit present.......

Wedding Anniversaries.  They happen every year.  That's good.

I think I may have written about it last year as we  marked 15 years of married life.  16 years doesn't even have a traditional gift attached to it, unless you continue searching and you come across Topaz or hollowed silver (Easter Eggs?).

So this year we're lying in bed, I'm typing this and Simon is teasing our six year old by repeating everything she says until she bursts into tears.  You've got to find the fun where you can.

I bought Simon a present and he didn't buy me one (don't worry I'll make that work to my advantage later), I bought him some radox,bath salts because it's green like Topaz, amirite?  No I'm wrong, apparently Topaz isn't green.  Anyway he reckons we don't buy each other presents, but I think he's recalling our Valentines Day agreement in error.

I've been trying to remember all the gifts I've bought him over the years, but am struggling to think of anything and then I remembered........ I remembered the gift I gave him on our 11th Wedding Anniversary......

Some of you may know this story.

It was a relatively not balmy evening in March, the 7th to be exact.  We found ourselves in a local Italian eatery. Eating Italian.

It was only average food, kind of disappointing.  I had a couple of champagnes, they were above average.  We were a little tipsy so decided to walk the shortish distance home - I know where you think this story is going and you couldn't be more wrong.

We were about half way there and I felt an uncomfortable tightening in my tummy and some rather big cramping rumbles.  Happily chatting away I stepped ahead of Simon and gave him the first of my anniversary gifts - a thundering toot I knew he'd appreciate, because you know, married.

We laughed.  But only for a short while.

The painful feeling in the depths of my bowels was not alleviated.  In fact the expulsion of the offending gas bubble had only made things worse.   I had to hasten our pace because I really needed to get home.

We were nearing an intersection, getting closer to home but still a few blocks away.  It was here that I knew I wasn't going to make it.

I was running now.  But it was too late, I yelled at Simon

'She's gonna blow'

Then I found a spot at the rear entrance of a local club, a couple of steps down from the road and relatively hidden amongst some trees.  I stood.  I mentally prepared for what was going to happen. I had the foresight to kick my shoes off, they were new and I didn't want them full of shit.

Then I let go.  I released the beast.  I prepared for the feeling of warm liquid oozing down my leg.  To my surprise and relief the expelled matter remained tightly contained in my undies.

Being our wedding anniversary I had donned the obligatory 'sexy undies' to my initial chagrin they'd been a size or so too small, but I had soldiered on and to my great fortune this is what saved myself and my clothes from being completely soiled - they now in fact held the contents of my bowels.

Meanwhile Simon was running away from me down the street 'I'll get your Mum' he yelled from a distance.

'Why don't you just call her?' I yelled back.

He reluctantly returned and waited with me for Mum to arrive and pick us up.  She obviously thought I had explosive out of each orifice style gastro or something because she bought every towel in the house with her, either that or she was concerned about the upholstery in her Micra.

I sat in the front seat holding myself up with my hands, because to sit down pushed the warm liquid up my back.  It was an awkward silence and a horrendous smell that filled the car.  I'm 99.9% sure Simon had his whole torso out the window - the micra must have looked like a weird clown car - a midget driving (sorry Mum), a passenger half out the car and an odd acrobat not sitting but levitating in the front seat.

I waddled into the house, Simon ran around after me lighting matches.  Dad was there helping Mum babysit the kids, he left quicksmart on the guise of going to pick our car up for us. He couldn't look me in the eye.....

I showered.  Simon and I sat in silence for a while and vowed not to talk about it for at least a year.  I did ask why he thought running to get Mum was quicker than calling, he admitted he panicked and the flight part of his brain kicked in, I forgave him.

So Radox bath salts seems like an infinitely better gift this year - even if it is the wrong colour.

The SUV Diaries: A coming of age tale

I took my two little peeps on a road trip today.  I was pretty proud of the fact I said we were going to leave at 9.30am and we actually did!  Wouldn’t happen on a school day, holidays are the tits!

Letting your eldest sit in the front however, opens you up to being critiqued by a minor;

Why are you going around that car / Shouldn’t you have indicated then / I don’t think you’re supposed to do that

I pulled out a Dad line:

“When you get your license you can make comment as much as you like, until then zip your lip sonny”

He countered with an irritatingly teenagery line:

“Yeah well, when I get my license I think I’ll drive better than this.”

Touche.

I only braked sharply on purpose a couple of times, the hopes of only giving him a minor case of whiplash.But instead I got more lip; 

“gee Mum, are you sure you’re right to drive, ooh ow, you did it again.”

Completely baseless criticisms aside, I discovered it’s really awesome to sing super loudly all together to the same song! 

We worked our way through Charlie’s playlist on his iPod.  Disturbingly I somehow know all the words to Beauty and the Beat – and not just the Justin part (which I am freaking pitch perfect at, everyone agreed), but I can Nicki Minaj it up with any 5 year old that may care to take me on. 

“Beauty from the streets, we don’t get deceased every time a beauty on the beats….” Boom, take that Beliebers!  (oooohhhhhh body rock…… let me feel your body rock…)

I had forgotten that I had (thankfully) interspersed some of my music onto Charlie’s play list, it was magic to my ears when some Beastie Boys piped up.  What was not magic to my ears was listening to them bickering about what the ‘sound’ was in the middle of Shake your Rump

“It’s someone doing a wee’

“No it’s someone filling a bottle with oil”

“Nah it really is someone doing a wee”

“No, oil into a bottle”

‘Wee”

“Oil”

“Wee”
 

It took all of my inner strength and fortitude as a parent to not scream at them;

“It’s a bong, it’s a fucking bong ok, someone is smoking a bong, do you guys even listen to the lyrics???”

But thankfully some Rita Ora or something came on and we sang about someone’s ex girlfriend resting in peace even though she wasn’t actually dead.  Good times.

It felt refreshing to have some semi grown up time with them, car trips used to be about making sure we had enough wipes and nappies in arms reach, snacks a plenty and making road kill sacrifices to the sleep gods in an effort to persuade them to send our babies off to the land of nod. But being older and able to hold their bladders, they can chat and sing and play car games the whole way. It was, dare I say it, fun!

Of course that was only on the way down…..  no one really wanted to get back into the car to return.  Suddenly promises of me harmonising with the Beibs wasn’t as enticing as it was earlier and I still feel a little insulted that they asked me to turn the music up and my voice down.

Anywho, I made them run around like loons at our destination, in an effort to wear them out enough so they go to bed at a reasonable time tonight (school holidays shouldn’t ruin my evening adult time, but it just does…..)

Unfortunately I forgot to take into consideration the one and a half hour drive home………

 

 
Dammit, yes she slept the whole way back.  She is now rejuvenated and will be up until at least 10pm.

Brother / Sister hood of the screaming pants

School holidays.

Day 1:   I’ve been hiding under my doona watching shit on the internet.

I’ve willingly been sucked into the YouTube wormhole – it always starts with a bit of Dr Phil, then somehow I move on to watching the worst auditions for X Australian got voice talent idol factor, that’s good for at least 15 minutes until I get so sick of the judges expressions, I just want to see what their happy faces look like so I move on to the BEST auditions of X Australian got voice talent idol factor.

That’s when the tears start and I realise I had a bank of those babies just waiting to roll on out. I’ve been stock piling grief behind my eyes in little sack,s to pour out the minute I see an awkward geek who’s been teased all their lives surprisingly and shockingly belt out a Whitney song note for note, solid. 

Floodgates open, assume the sobbing position.

There’s nothing like a good cry to make you realise that you’re feeling sad, eyes are the pressure cooker of the soul. Tear ducts the release valve.

Once you start you just can’t stop, amiright? I watch every unexpectedly successful, pitch perfect Adele adaption, seeking out the UK and US versions for good measure and it appears I’m in it for the long haul so I’ll take the Italian and Ukrainian versions too thanks. Can’t understand what the fuck they’re saying but pain speaks every language, the anguished pitying looks on the judge’s faces are intercontinental! Sob!

Cue: “Muuuuuum I’m hungry……..”

“DON’T come in here – you don’t want to see me like this – get yourself a box of biscuits from the cupboard……’

After a cleansing amount of inspirational auditions  I glance around the room to make sure I’m definitely all alone,  so I can indulge in my secret YouTube guilty pleasure……  returned servicemen surprising their loved ones by returning home unexpectedly…..  I could cry for hours.

I get that it’s kind of weird and sure, I’m not really keen on wars anywhere, but the absolute shock, joy and love that these people feel when they see their clean cut and often uniformed family member is just contagious, it’s so real!  

Seeing grown men cry whilst they hold their sobbing nine year old daughter tightly gets me every.single.time.  

It’s amazing how many brothers surprise their younger sisters.  The fact that these young men have thought out a surprise for their sister is just as overwhelmingly beautiful to me as how the sister is ALWAYS super excited and happy to see them!  They always cry with joy and they ALWAYS run and embrace, not in a ‘Cersei and Jaime’ kind of way, but in a ‘really love and care for each other’ way.  It really makes my heart chambers ache.

As I sit here typing this I’m watching my two play outside, they’re making agreements not to squirt each other with the hose, but as soon as one has their back turned the other grabs the hose and squirts the shit out of them.  Then there’s a lot of screaming, name calling and crying.  They agree again that they don’t want to do it, 20 seconds later the other one cops it.

I really want to think that it’s these moments, these benign and forgettable events that forge an unbreakable bond and relationship between them.  I really hope they grow up knowing they are forever connected to each other, kindred souls in a way, always there for each other when needed.  I’d like to think that my daughter, who is currently calling her brother a ‘butt face’, will seek him out for help in the future.  I’d like to think that my son, who is currently feigning injury to get some sympathy, will know that she’s got his back when they’re older.

I would like to think that if one of them joined the armed services and served overseas for many months, that when they returned the other would jump gladly and excitedly into their arms crying about how much they love and missed them.

IF that happened, I would consider this parenting caper a success.

 

Ps:  Ronan Keating…..ermagherd he’s a god! There’s also an oddly attractive pirate looking judge on the Italian Voice, can’t tell if he’s an arsehat or not, can’t understand a  bloody word he’s saying.

Fifteen

Fifteen (15) years – we have been married for 15 years, I can’t quite really comprehend how much time that is and it’s not that I didn't think we would make it to 15 years, I just didn't really  think about it full stop.  Our totes (which wasn't a word back then unless you were talking about multiple short handled bags) ‘strayan honeymoon in Bali was all I was thinking about when I got married!

Of course anyone who has been married for a half of a third of a century would have some sage wedding day advice to give out;  so to any soon to be brides all I can say is make sure your bridesmaids are well versed in hovering near you with a full drink AT ALL TIMES.

The Traditional gift for a 15 year anniversary is crystal.  It’s not really my thing, (although possibly 15 years ago in the form of a nice dream catcher or sun prism…….) I wracked my brain for ideas for Simon, only came up with Cristal Champagne, which I promptly did not buy.  I have to admit I have my concerns about his idea of what properly represents crystal, half expecting a ‘lady of the night’ called Crystal to knock on the door later on, all in the name of spicing things up a little (I’ll get back to you on that one).

Being a child bride when I was married (seriously, 15 years ago I said……) I was very naïve I think about how relationships worked, it’s taken a long time for both of us to work out that we can’t bend the other persons will or break it to suit our own purposes, although Simon’s acceptance that I will use the credit card to buy new shoes on a bi weekly basis has been very good for our marriage, very therapeutic in many ways…..

I am by no means an expert on relationships or marriage itself, I've just been who I am and grown up a bit, so the below is not meant to be an authoritative or definitive list of what makes a marriage work – it’s merely observations I have made over the past 15 years.

15 things I've learned about marriage, whilst married......

1. Ego is a dirty word.  So is ‘budget’ ‘reduce’ ‘temporary’ and ‘clean-out’
2. List making can be annoying to your partner if they’re not a list maker
3. Giving pets the names you would give your children then limits the amount of names you can agree upon in the future
4. You can actually go to sleep angry – in fact sometimes it’s for the best……
5. Pretending to like Mint Slice biscuits can only last so long
6. Men do have feelings, they store them underneath their smallest toenail.  That is also why they cry so much when they stub their toe.
7. Life is not a soap opera – the story does not pause for 24 hours to simply return to the same spot.  If you want something, ask for it – gazing into the distance  with misty eyes wont help
8. No one is as vulnerable as a man ironing in the nude
9. Having a husband that is totally supportive of you whilst hungover and provides all manner of fried foods, energy drinks and child free sleep time is PRICELESS, priceless I tell you
10. Really bad smells are more bearable if you breathe through your mouth
11. Folding towels the correct way is not common sense to everyone
12. Not reciprocating that hangover supportive thing doesn’t make you a bad person
13. Letting someone else speak sometimes can actually offer some insight, even if what they’re saying is completely ridiculous and so wrong it makes your eyes water
14. Having children does change your relationship.  Sharing a bed with a minor will do that. 
15. Love can last beyond a decade, past arguments, through sleepless nights, survive bouts of hangry mood swings or self-indulgent body shape rants and ignore the worst of bodily functions.  If you want it to.

I do want to say though, that over the years we have seen friends or family break up or divorce. It has been very painful to watch and really heartbreaking to go through, if anything it’s made us realise how very lucky we are and we would assert to not take each other for granted.  It’s easy to forget that sometimes.

I would also like to acknowledge my beloved family and friends who are not ‘allowed’ to get married, may all the above prepare you for what you’ll be getting yourself in for in the not too distant future!  It will happen.

I wasn't allowed to do a speech at my own wedding, something that really grinds my gears to this day, so this is part wedding speech, part Oscars acceptance, part ode to my one beloved and best friend in the whole wide world ever.

x

Aint nothing sweet about that Lollipop.....

Do you find it amusing that a uniform or badge can give someone a bit of a power trip, no matter how menial the signified task is? I know that wearing the ‘School Bank Officer’ badge in Primary school gave me a certain edge of authority.  It didn’t quite allow me a seat in the staff room at lunch times as I expected, but I held a position of responsibility ergo a position of power. 

Although you give some people the slightest bit of authority and even the most level headed individual can be overcome with the intoxicating grasp that power and influence can have on you.  We've all seen fire wardens take the responsibilities of the red hat a little too seriously (for the record fire wardens do not have the ability to give out fines for taking your handbag out with you on fire drills.)

Faux uniforms are the worst, I consider the Lollipop crossing lady uniform a faux uniform – because really it’s just about the high visibility, there’s no power in that raincoat with reflective strips.  Just get the kids across the road and pop on out of my way.

Harsh, I hear you say (in fact almost taboo!)

I must confess to having issue with a certain tyrant of a lollipop crossing lady that has tainted my opinion on the whole sector.

She works the crossing at a school not far from my home.  We've established in the past I am not spontaneous, I’m completely a creature of habit, thus each day I automatically drive the same way to take the kids to their school, past this children’s crossing control freak.  I curse my own rigidity.

So the feud is about me being in my car, driving along, obeying school speed limits and this despot thrusting her hexagon stop sign out giving me the shortest moment in time to stop before she ushers small children onto the zebra crossing.  Every day she shakes her head in disapproval at me.

I spend my time waiting for the children to cross wondering what I have done to upset this lady, I can’t recall obliviously knocking over small children like pins in the past, I’m pretty sure I haven’t sped through here with a beer in hand and loud  inappropriate music blaring out the windows. So why does she dislike me so?

We’re getting to the end of term now and I can sense she’s reached her limit of assisting herds of children and their unruly parents across the road.  She must be able to sense I’ve had my fill of morning arguments about blazers, missing shoes and teeth cleaning, because that lady is really really pushing my buttons now.

Last week things came to a head.   I’m sick of giving my kids low speed whiplash (which really just makes them drop their left over breakfast/show and share item/my phone and yell out incredulously at the inconvenience), so I decided to play her at her own game.

Day 1 – Coming up to the crossing I slowed to 25kms readying myself to stop, she stayed on the footpath, so I increased my speed to 35 and BANG I was just mere inches away from the crossing when she sticks out the sign, steps on to the road and signals for me to slow the fuck down.

Because that’s what she does, even if I’m going 10 kms she always signals furiously in a ‘slow the fuck down’ kind of way.

This time she continued to signal at me to slow down even after I had stopped, a wry grin on her face as we stared at each other (if I was hardcore I would have been gunning the engine at this point)

It was too late to stop myself as I mouthed ‘fuck you’ in full view of the next group of parents and children now gathered at her designated ‘wait here to cross’ spot.  Dammit. I plastered a wan smile on my face.

She gave me the slightest nod and changed her grin to a grimace, then slowly limped back to the footpath.

A limp!  WTF, she totally does not have a limp.  It was game on from that point

Day 2 -  I thought I could get into her mind and psych her out.  I just stopped at the crossing even though she was still on the footpath – there was a child waiting I knew what she was going to do.  

I raised an eyebrow, curled my lip into a smile and nodded my head up and down

‘How do you like that one control freak  BOOM’

She shook her head and waved me on.  NO!  I pummeled the steering wheel and continued on my way.

Day 3 – I stayed on 40 clicks and head right at that crossing, I could see her step forward but I just kept  going, She began to step into the crossing but I still kept on going.  Then she stretched her legs in an unnatural alien like manner and was standing in front of the car before I knew it, signalling at me to slow the fuck down.

I stopped. She practically had her hand on the bonnet, shaking her head, I could see her talking with the parents crossing and they all glared at me like I’d just taken out the entire 1^st Grade.  One even patted her on the back.

NO NO NO NO NO I’m a good person, this is all her!!

‘She doesn't even really have a limp!’ I yelled out of the car window, shaking my head and pointing at her.

 

I could tell she was laughing at me on the inside so I did the ‘point my fingers at my eyes and point them at her’ gesture.  She waved me on.

Day 4 –  We went a different way.

This week I’m trying really hard to remember to drive the new route to school, also I don’t think I’m allowed to go the old way anymore, the crossing lady has a security guard now.

I’ve made an anonymous suggestion to the school that a set of pedestrian crossing lights would be a really good idea.

Vale Joan Gardner

This week I lost my Nanna.

It's hard to put into words what someone who has been in your life for your entire life, actually means to you.
I have tried to put feelings and memories into words.

I don't really think I can do her justice though, she was more than just a grandmother or an old lady.  She was an influence, a force, an example and someone who loved me dearly.

I loved her with a fierceness that I can't describe.

Vale Joan Gardner

With a sea scented gentle wind at back

Rocking a large pine unstill

The memory of lost voices give thrill

They line the walls

They fill the halls

A distant reflection in my mind

The rich love filled tones

Of lives spent, children grown

In a house by the beach

A house where she would teach

A pinch of this, a dash of that

Mix with love, mix with soul

Receive a lecture as you beat the bowl

Mind your mother,

Be kind to your brother

Never too much sugar in the ginger beer

Cook fish in its skin

Scraps in pit pot, not the bin

Duck eggs in fruit cakes

Always use paper lining when you bake

Christmas cheer is better when shared

Talk of neighbours, gossip it’s not

Just passing the important message you got

Ice in drinks

Cheeky winks

Rosy cheeks from being love pinched

Always love your family dear

Hold your lover near

Recite the lords prayer at night

And squeeze your children ever so tight

She shared true loves grasp with me

Now laid at rest

With her much loved best

Waiting to take her

On the next life’s path

E.