tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81026499586118547962024-02-20T02:28:13.927+11:00Whoa, Mamma!One mother's journey going from Woe to Whoa!Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-17723788543207671082015-03-18T14:46:00.000+11:002015-03-18T14:46:00.494+11:00Hiding on the Pier, Laughing with Sardines.I went to the market the other day and spotted fresh sardines. It had been years since I'd had them freshly cooked instead of eaten from a tin, adorning my morning toast.<br />
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I have a romance with food. It takes me places. Even on my travels my greatest memories are inextricably linked around food. Gelato and chianti in Roma. Baguettes, Nutella crepes and bowls of hot chocolate in Paris. The juiciest nectarines I'd ever had in my life from Barcelona. And sardines in Greece.<br />
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Cooking takes me back to these places, and buying fresh ingredients from a market is cheaper than an airfare.<br />
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Today for lunch I cooked the sardines. It reminded me of my childhood, visiting my grandparents. As Greek immigrants they'd operated a popular fish'n'chips shop in South Melbourne in the 1960s. At home they would always be cooking up fish, the pair of them dancing away at the frying pans filled with whitebait and sardines. It reminded them of their seaside life in the land they'd left behind.<br />
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My beloved Grandmother, affectionately known as Mitsa, passed away just over a month ago, at the stunning age of 92. Today I paid homage to her in my kitchen as I scaled the plump little fish, chopped off their heads and slid my two thumbs down the lines of their stomach, ripping their little guts out. I'm sure Yiayia would have been proud.<br />
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(Although, I wish I'd worn gloves. After gutting 1 kg of fish, I washed my hands with soap 3 times, slathered on antibacterial hand sanitizer, layered on lavender handcream and rinsed them in lemon juice and THEY STILL STINK!).<br />
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I lightly floured them and popped them in a pan to fry in olive oil for a couple of minutes each side until golden and, voila! Lunch is served!<br />
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Which reminded me also of the time I found myself hiding out on a pier, laughing in the company of sardines. Intrigued? Read on...<br />
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You may have heard the story of how I met my husband? I was on holiday in Greece, we met at a bachelor party? Not familiar with this romance? You can read it <a href="http://whoamammaland.blogspot.com.au/2011/09/bachelor-party-of-destiny.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>.<br />
Anyway, after a whirlwind romance, I said goodbye to my life in Australia and hello to new beginnings in a seaside town in northern Greece. For 2 years my darling and I ran a tavern by the sea. Think fried calamari, grilled octopus, saganaki cheese, chargrilled prawns, mussels poached with fresh tomato and feta cheese, fried zucchini chips, tzatziki, roasted eggplant, souvlaki skewers, I was cooking it all, baby!<br />
By the end of our 2nd year in the tavern, tragedy struck with the loss of my father-in-law. It saw us sell the business so we could help out my mother-in-law.<br />
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Things in Greece were starting to get tough economically. Work was sparse and what was available didn't pay very well. My husband was approached to manage a restaurant at a nearby resort while I found a job as a kitchen hand with my sister-in-law at a local beachside tavern. My wages were 18 euros a day for shifts that could last up to 10 hours. Slim pickings but these were desperate times.<br />
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My time there was joyfilled, surrounded by woman from various backgrounds. Aside from my sister-in-law, there was Georgia from the country of Georgia, a big bulky woman with short blonde hair, and Peppa, a motherly little lady with brigh red hair and blue eye-liner. She was from Bulgaria. She looked so much like Mrs Garrett from the TV show 'Facts of Life'.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mrs Garrett from the 'Facts of Life'</td></tr>
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Peppa had hands that must have been made of iron. When it was time to change the oil, she would grab the searing hot frying pan, lunge it into the sink and wash it while it must have been a million degrees. "Peppa!", I'd exclaim, horrified, "How can you do that? You'll burn yourself!" She'd laugh, exposing her teeth with gold fillings."Peppa, strong! Best way to clean pan is when hot! See?!" And she was right. The muck would just slide right off.</div>
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One afternoon, the tavern's phone rang. It was another restaurant warning the owner that inspectors were in the area checking for illegal workers. Everyone that wasn't on the books or insured by the restaurant owner had to flee until the inspectors left the area. I wasn't an illegal immigrant like Georgia or Peppa, as I had dual citizenship, but I wasn't on the proprietor's books so he wouldn't have to pay me insurance.</div>
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So there I was. Hiding out on a pier like a fugitive, among the bobbing little boats and sunkissed, stubbly fishermen. Peppa, with her radiant auburn bouffant, had smuggled out cucumbers and was offering them around. Georgia was puffing away on cigarettes and flirting with the fishermen. </div>
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And me? I was dazzled by pools of shimmering sardines, golden flecks beaming in the sunlight, the situation was comedic. Crunching on a cucumber I laughed joyously to myself, "Only in Greece......".</div>
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Have you ever worked overseas? Any crazy stories to share?</div>
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Do you love sardines? How do you like to eat them?</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-8961779477502384092015-01-20T15:42:00.000+11:002015-01-20T15:42:52.885+11:00Shooting for the Stars and Following Through<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A new year has begun and I'm relishing in its newness, and in its possibilities.<br />
I know the reality is that life is just one day, followed by another, followed by another, followed by another. Minutes become hours. Hours become days. Days become weeks. Week turn into months and months become years. Sometimes the days go quick. Sometimes they drag on. Some days meld into each other and you have no idea what day of the week it is. Fridays have a feeling. Sundays have a feeling. Mondays definitely have a feeling. What feeling does today have?<br />
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It is school holidays and my husband has just taken our girls to the park for a couple of hours. It dawned on me that for the past 32 days of school holidays this was the first time that I was actually home ALONE. A selfish delight welled up inside of me. What to do with this precious time? Laze about? De-clutter? Laundry? Read a book? Cook? Dance about my kitchen and sing along with Elvis?<br />
What to do with THIS day?<br />
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The possibilities flustered me. Decision-making is not one of my fortés. My brain filters decisions in this order: other people's happiness first, then mine. I have wasted a lot of precious brain activity going through the pros and cons of a decision so that I come up with a win-win for everybody. It's exhausting having my brain sometimes.<br />
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I am essentially a people-pleaser. And pleasing people that I love genuinely makes me happy. Sometimes I feel that it's what I live for. But it's futile if you don't put that same love and energy towards pleasing yourself too.<br />
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And so, to put some sort of order and meaning into my life, I have come up with my Intention for this new year. I don't believe in New Year's Resolutions. I have always been disappointed by them. So instead I would like to live my life with Intention.<br />
My intention, especially this year, is to Follow Through.<br />
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There are so many little projects and dreams I have been wanting to do. Some I attempt, but through disorganization and distractions they are left in utter disarray. Books left unfinshed. Attempts at jewellery making. Recipes ripped out of magazines. Places I'd like to visit. People I'd like to see. Things I'd like to do. Things I SHOULD do.<br />
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Often I think I don't have enough time, but really, that's just my lazy excuse. I need to be smarter with with my time. To sort out the chaos that runs through my mind, which usually is reflected by the state of my house, I have come up with some mantras to keep me focussed. Whether it is an action or an object, I will ask myself this:<br />
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What PURPOSE does this fulfil in my life?<br />
It has to make life BETTER in some way.<br />
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Where does this BELONG?<br />
This is to help me de-clutter. Everything should have a purpose, a function, a use. If it deserves a place in my home and my life, there has to be a dedicated space for it. If there's no purpose, it has to go.<br />
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What GOOD shall I do next?<br />
This I interpret in many ways. It could be an altruistic gesture like visiting my grandmother to brighten up her day. It could be tackling one of those chores you've been putting off but once you've done it the result make you happy. An action that brings you satisfaction and joy.<br />
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And so, as I type, it suddenly dawned on me that a decision had been made. I chose to write. I wanted to re-ignite my passion for this little blogging space and I followed through, distracted, fuddled mind and all. The sound of keys in the door. Giggling girls carrying chocolate milkshakes followed by their smiling father bound in.<br />
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"Did you have some nice 'Mummy Time', mummy?", they ask.<br />
"Yes, darlings. I sure did" I reply, arms out for hugs.<br />
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Mamma made a decision today.<br />
Mamma followed through.<br />
Mamma feels Good.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Did you make a New Year's Resolution this year?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What is <i>your</i> Intention?</span><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-36598217760727558632014-11-19T23:04:00.002+11:002014-11-19T23:04:44.066+11:00A Serendipitous Sign Indeed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today, after dropping my 3 girls off at school, my feet decided they did not want to return home. Well, not straight away, at least. What was waiting for me at Casa de Whoa Mamma (dirty dishes, dirty laundry, sticky floors and smudged windows) could wait a little longer.</div>
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The sun was shining, warming my back as my black pointy-toed flats led the way. I wasn't sure where I was heading. I was wandering. Meandering. Destination unkown.</div>
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I love walking. I can (and often do) walk for hours. While I walk, I get lost in thoughts. I problem solve. I daydream. It relaxes me.</div>
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I walked through the park, friendly dogs approaching me, trying to lick my ankles. Birds frolicked in the trees. Joggers raced on by, followed by a whizz of cyclists. Calmness, serenity. I smiled at a group of elderly ladies all dolled up in their hot pink tennis outfits with matching hot pink lipstick shuffling off to their tennis club. 'I hope I'm that awesome when I'm 80', I thought to myself.</div>
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My feet felt the urge to turn left, so I followed. Meandering through the back streets and cobbled laneways of my neighbourhood. It's funny how you can spend your whole time growing up in a neighbourhood and yet discover streets that you never new existed.</div>
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This was my excitement for the day. The thrill of discovery. The thrill of exploring. I 'ooooohed' and 'aaaaaahed' over pretty little cottages with their pretty little gardens. Strangers walked by and we'd smile and say 'Hello'. I know we teach our children never to talk to strangers but it is always nice to share a smile and extend a bright and cheery 'hello'. It's good for the soul, I say.</div>
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The highlight of my walk was when I came across a house that featured a glorious cursive metal sign featuring two simple words: 'Hello, Beautiful'. What an impact it had. It stopped me in my tracks and filled me with delight. It actually <i>made</i> me feel beautiful. 'Aw, shucks. Thank you, House. What a lovely thing for you to say'.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNh57xVlxWFB9hihKJW_QuuwMyv6jKUzfmk-m3A8wcToKg4DteEGjH_zaRnXWlZngQJV2jF-cFvRUUJrZP-2R1OVLuv-fgxhUX4Uw4c9ZRSMNfcw3uGQlTt2pqQmTiPy31lSApz97xes/s1600/10426170_1027843963895933_6805035855337309801_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNh57xVlxWFB9hihKJW_QuuwMyv6jKUzfmk-m3A8wcToKg4DteEGjH_zaRnXWlZngQJV2jF-cFvRUUJrZP-2R1OVLuv-fgxhUX4Uw4c9ZRSMNfcw3uGQlTt2pqQmTiPy31lSApz97xes/s1600/10426170_1027843963895933_6805035855337309801_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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I took a photo and posted it on instagram. One of my followers recognized the house as belonging to a friend of hers. I commented that her friend has a gorgeous house and must be a gorgeous person to feature a sign like that for all to see. She replied that her friend just likes to make people smile.</div>
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The world needs more friends like that, don't you think?</div>
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Do you ever wander or meander?</div>
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Where do you like to go to get lost in your thoughts?</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-56261368470226598132014-11-16T02:02:00.002+11:002014-11-16T02:02:49.574+11:00Phoenix Rising<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l7UVzbEYB6E0T6yajWIH9R-8z7VTk_hMWZLJjFyx6lPXEW_15P4kuYvbJyqprzjSs3oXTeO2BTzndpJkr2vPv9NRHitxp8vPOE8iOLWsD5NSGjNtDZkN7227PvHTSsKq2Gyg8ooI9dQ/s1600/6.19-24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6l7UVzbEYB6E0T6yajWIH9R-8z7VTk_hMWZLJjFyx6lPXEW_15P4kuYvbJyqprzjSs3oXTeO2BTzndpJkr2vPv9NRHitxp8vPOE8iOLWsD5NSGjNtDZkN7227PvHTSsKq2Gyg8ooI9dQ/s1600/6.19-24.jpg" height="365" width="400" /></a></div>
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It has been a while since my last blog post. A long, long while.<br />
'What happened to your blog?', they asked.<br />
'Why have you stopped writing?', they queried.<br />
I don't know.<br />
Something inside me quietened and sought shelter deep within my soul.<br />
I'm not sure exactly why, but suddenly I felt vulnerable and exposed.<br />
I was sharing a lot about my life and my family and, although I very much enjoyed doing it, I suddenly felt the need to retreat.<br />
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A shy gal, such that I am, needs a bit of quiet time now and then.<br />
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My thoughts and my dreams hibernated in their safe place, swirling around with my list of Must-Do's. Sometimes it was quite chaotic in that little mind of mine. The clashing of Wants vs Needs. I needed the quiet time to re-evaluate my priorities and to put things into perspective. The past few months have seen me earnestly dedicating my time to my husband and children, creating beautiful moments with them, while my caterpillar-like soul snuggled in her cocoon.<br />
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I've had my rest and now I'm ready. The cocoon served its purpose. This butterfly is ready to spread her creative wings and take flight.<br />
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So many ideas are fluttering about in my head. So many possibilities. So many paths I could take. It's a little bit scary, you know? Unleashing your creative spirit. Especially since I've been holding it back for so long. It's like a wild, black stallion on a stampede. Dangerous and exhilirating. But I'm ready for the ride. Giddy-up!<br />
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Have you been holding back your creative urges?<br />
What is your soul crying out for? Are you ready to listen to it?<br />
What's holding you back?<br />
GO FOR IT!!!!!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-69750935912599776952014-04-24T13:31:00.000+10:002014-04-24T13:35:04.314+10:00ANZAC Deliciousness!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELnlidA34pQKJWr9hUw935-QzZkUoWPmzIdKjHn4pyFjKvqVWRnn8BrmaGjqcM53XteD-aX4dBQOsd42EYoMbCEDvD0PMe6uKVHB5VR5tuP5XC8SeEuzOEmAuZr4sDamTgs-ThNAdS_I/s1600/anzac+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELnlidA34pQKJWr9hUw935-QzZkUoWPmzIdKjHn4pyFjKvqVWRnn8BrmaGjqcM53XteD-aX4dBQOsd42EYoMbCEDvD0PMe6uKVHB5VR5tuP5XC8SeEuzOEmAuZr4sDamTgs-ThNAdS_I/s1600/anzac+collage.jpg" height="387" width="400" /></a></div>
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Do you know the story behind one of Australia's most loved biscuits?</div>
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As most Australians & New Zealanders would know, the iconic ANZAC biscuit was developed by the women (wives, mothers, sweethearts) left behind by the Australian and New Zealander soldiers (ANZACs) when the armies set off for battle at the beginning of the first World War . These women wanted to send sweets to their loved ones, a little treat from home, but they needed something that would keep well on the journey.<br />
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And so, with a mixture of rolled oats, dessicated coconut, and golden syrup as the signature traits, the humble ANZAC biscuit was born. They were usually packed lovingly in tins, a message of love and courage tucked away inside, sent with a prayer that these sweet, nourishing biscuits would reach these embattled soldiers, hopefully alive and as well as could possibly be expected.<br />
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The other week, ALDI Australia had kindly invited me to visit the The Modern Baking Co, a fabulous bakery that produces their wonderful ANZAC biscuits. I was so excited at the invitation because:<br />
a) I'm a real baking afficionado<br />
b) I was always fascinated by the history & tradition of the ANZAC biscuit<br />
c) I could leave domestic drudgery behind for an afternoon<br />
d) and (of course), COOKIES!!!!!.<br />
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I was greeted by my lovely host Erin who took me on a tour of the bakery. The scent was delicious!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlFab_A0x9T0BX8u4-3PZLjT_UmdJwvuklwo8g9LK5WenrObAcrYnfhCNCKvHO8r7CdZ3mRFxa_wgWbPmHEQkb9AqibseUaQzrgN4oohwYTILDhbL6Y_f020l1n21I94cQ7uXXcIVxUI/s1600/MBC+factory.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYlFab_A0x9T0BX8u4-3PZLjT_UmdJwvuklwo8g9LK5WenrObAcrYnfhCNCKvHO8r7CdZ3mRFxa_wgWbPmHEQkb9AqibseUaQzrgN4oohwYTILDhbL6Y_f020l1n21I94cQ7uXXcIVxUI/s1600/MBC+factory.jpg" height="276" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Look at the size of those ovens!!!</td></tr>
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I skipped my gypsy earrings and leopard stilletos and traded them in for sensible shoes, a slicked back mamma bun, tres chic blue hairnet and glamazon fluorescent orange overcoat to venture onto the bakery floor to see where the magic happens!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQlEy89j2RRpZfJeG3mRVOV3d3rhJzwEOuFiFT5notVi-Q-kLcIHaZOn4q33qCdfF0X56PbUiyzK4PQ2matSrK1xtCR4o4clmk7OBU5LEN16wDJFMj7nS8CcdbwF5ZRudc3TI4eFdSsY/s1600/Safety+gear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQlEy89j2RRpZfJeG3mRVOV3d3rhJzwEOuFiFT5notVi-Q-kLcIHaZOn4q33qCdfF0X56PbUiyzK4PQ2matSrK1xtCR4o4clmk7OBU5LEN16wDJFMj7nS8CcdbwF5ZRudc3TI4eFdSsY/s1600/Safety+gear.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Factory floor chicness! </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhipYdIEGrStkW4oaa11XGLBAuMBBfoblAE2yGluRgEtjKaIBaunR6JVFijfhV0BEMXbemBYzoVl5ue_fGbrCVgReqKyhqgJmDN-LCN0n4swahlbq0p1DQO7qVOkaWFk58zFAqIMHzrIc/s1600/rolled+oats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhipYdIEGrStkW4oaa11XGLBAuMBBfoblAE2yGluRgEtjKaIBaunR6JVFijfhV0BEMXbemBYzoVl5ue_fGbrCVgReqKyhqgJmDN-LCN0n4swahlbq0p1DQO7qVOkaWFk58zFAqIMHzrIc/s1600/rolled+oats.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the magic ingredients, rolled oats! Tonnes of!</td></tr>
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Welcome to cookie heaven!</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdRUF9hcNBTHGjzGig4YMFbl71ukfFGkvCZhpR2yLJ5r2oA2FKK4_pbmfeyrFgtYC45D4YY6iBdN0MMwYCwGwiW8u_6VYmwVCtQe6tqpSrGA6sobf_AfF30ujbsBXc4Mv_r8GSgjafGoQ/s1600/Anzacs+baking+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdRUF9hcNBTHGjzGig4YMFbl71ukfFGkvCZhpR2yLJ5r2oA2FKK4_pbmfeyrFgtYC45D4YY6iBdN0MMwYCwGwiW8u_6VYmwVCtQe6tqpSrGA6sobf_AfF30ujbsBXc4Mv_r8GSgjafGoQ/s1600/Anzacs+baking+2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />The coconutty, golden syrupy, oaty batter goodness is dolloped out <br />like little soldiers marching in lines. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHM4-FAhlpL6K6UUPA6j7PmjPDwhOZgUPkDevDp75cHJI_Bv2DZoluWFbAH2XG_DSfvM8PcnQPTHWmnP35vFlEfgnhu5T444Yc-7T3KivRoJoTKwVJDxSLrGm5Kwh8kWoBJSEWNb5_Vsk/s1600/Anzacs+baking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHM4-FAhlpL6K6UUPA6j7PmjPDwhOZgUPkDevDp75cHJI_Bv2DZoluWFbAH2XG_DSfvM8PcnQPTHWmnP35vFlEfgnhu5T444Yc-7T3KivRoJoTKwVJDxSLrGm5Kwh8kWoBJSEWNb5_Vsk/s1600/Anzacs+baking.jpg" height="301" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />On their way to get baked! </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqC-dKdETeigpKmwXzmAk9Nn3Ixahm1M6PsJTW0NyFWyllagOvuB3cPZBKsVLki4N3qWk7I4tabfEACfVJauMxju1kx09qZWzPrqGoYGzXm3hzp1pE-9lhqpH79tnjjhiJaj1pXMy8d8k/s1600/Anzacs+baking+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqC-dKdETeigpKmwXzmAk9Nn3Ixahm1M6PsJTW0NyFWyllagOvuB3cPZBKsVLki4N3qWk7I4tabfEACfVJauMxju1kx09qZWzPrqGoYGzXm3hzp1pE-9lhqpH79tnjjhiJaj1pXMy8d8k/s1600/Anzacs+baking+3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KZs72HpGJgn350R4hlYkIgDRHE3DnfgvOVL3SlFK2EfIcikpXxLBWEEkUbxOkgxajw7jhiajvR3SYa-z0JNu5ZBi_j0vwjjdgLoIfjBLOWYooLPfTqfuVuNnS3n_QoQ0KDCC5ESzelE/s1600/Ruxton+plaque.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KZs72HpGJgn350R4hlYkIgDRHE3DnfgvOVL3SlFK2EfIcikpXxLBWEEkUbxOkgxajw7jhiajvR3SYa-z0JNu5ZBi_j0vwjjdgLoIfjBLOWYooLPfTqfuVuNnS3n_QoQ0KDCC5ESzelE/s1600/Ruxton+plaque.jpg" height="360" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaque on the oven dedicated to former RSL President, Bruce Ruxton<br /></td></tr>
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Did you know that 4% from the proceeds of sales of ANZAC biscuits are donated to support the wonderful community work of the RSL (The Returned and Services League)? This initiative was started by former RSL President, the late Bruce Ruxton in the 1990's.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6CRR1Th6SC_24g4DoZOB1UtDb6psYnVmnmndhu467rk6YqMLxcLssaL0chzHz3Smz-kmydEzMPSr6pPQ0ZeYwrP4NHzfrBxayMdDYr-L7SDP5u2NFXaOrzSxkTe7sw26oEN8CiPjV0RI/s1600/Packing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6CRR1Th6SC_24g4DoZOB1UtDb6psYnVmnmndhu467rk6YqMLxcLssaL0chzHz3Smz-kmydEzMPSr6pPQ0ZeYwrP4NHzfrBxayMdDYr-L7SDP5u2NFXaOrzSxkTe7sw26oEN8CiPjV0RI/s1600/Packing.jpg" height="287" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />The lovely staff at The Modern Baking Co pack, pack, packing the ANZAC goodness.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtSkPBwzECZ5VRMDUy8hwkCo3onnpxu_KcepAPNRs0PNvJ23ngXRRj2jJCuTuGV4GLa7l7ILSVXHHdkJS6gGkR6l93fWUzi_dAh34aIlIi9Dy9UBTtB9hYwxWk7Wy4BLBJvd-ynGdF6g/s1600/pellets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtSkPBwzECZ5VRMDUy8hwkCo3onnpxu_KcepAPNRs0PNvJ23ngXRRj2jJCuTuGV4GLa7l7ILSVXHHdkJS6gGkR6l93fWUzi_dAh34aIlIi9Dy9UBTtB9hYwxWk7Wy4BLBJvd-ynGdF6g/s1600/pellets.jpg" height="232" width="400" /></a></div>
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Millions of ANZACS packed and ready to be eaten! </div>
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Which brings me to the extra special commemorative tins....</div>
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Voila! </div>
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ALDI Australia, in collaboration with The Modern Baking Co, has created an exclusive, limited edition Unibic ANZAC Biscuit tin, commemorating 100 years since the start of World War 1.</div>
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The tin, entitled “<i>The Ancient Tombs of Giza”, </i>honours the nearly 20,000 Australian servicemen and 300 members of the Australian Army Nursing Service who left for training camps in Egypt in 1914.</div>
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Endorsed by the Returned and Services League of Australia (RSL), the limited edition “<i>The Ancient Tombs of Giza” </i>and “<i>The Victoria Cross” </i>Unibic ANZAC Biscuit tins are available now across ALDI stores nationally for $9.99, until stocks last.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqC60neg81N7PEwiW9xOFzsVlkgsmvLsGshg_9kX06F1khgliN-PWGEV1CWTobYXKQOQanWgxnzT8hI6kR16hAEChEbk5c6j8OqizKxKEL6v1uQwMMrsHZeRYhAYh6xIXtNgGplWBdXso/s1600/ALDI+ANZAC+Tin+-+The+Ancient+Tombs+of+Giza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqC60neg81N7PEwiW9xOFzsVlkgsmvLsGshg_9kX06F1khgliN-PWGEV1CWTobYXKQOQanWgxnzT8hI6kR16hAEChEbk5c6j8OqizKxKEL6v1uQwMMrsHZeRYhAYh6xIXtNgGplWBdXso/s1600/ALDI+ANZAC+Tin+-+The+Ancient+Tombs+of+Giza.jpg" height="400" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALDI 100 Year Commemorative Tin<br />"The Ancient Tombs of Giza'' (1914-2014)</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepxbCrDzvVSrdzLo2RKKSwWI8NLlw0eYwA4wyUJwwm6lY_DF5YTxrIHmxBm8RvaGSD489zXzhP9WBZmfd84VrbLgvi5R3VAUMVZL1q-W9Z-SEyM9CBflNh7Y2Mhqb1283Lz7uyy8CSVs/s1600/ALDI+ANZAC+Tin+-+Victoria+Cross.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepxbCrDzvVSrdzLo2RKKSwWI8NLlw0eYwA4wyUJwwm6lY_DF5YTxrIHmxBm8RvaGSD489zXzhP9WBZmfd84VrbLgvi5R3VAUMVZL1q-W9Z-SEyM9CBflNh7Y2Mhqb1283Lz7uyy8CSVs/s1600/ALDI+ANZAC+Tin+-+Victoria+Cross.jpg" height="400" width="324" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ALDI ANZAC Biscuit Commemorative Tin<br />"The Victoria Cross"</td></tr>
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Whether you're looking forward to dipping into a cup of tea, or making it into a sandwich with Nutella (highly recommend!) don't forget to pop into ALDI this week to pick up an extra special commemorative tin. A percentage of proceeds from each sale will be donated by ALDI Australia to benefit the wonderful work of the RSL. On top of that, ALDI Australia will also be donating an extra $20,000 to the RSL to provide welfare assistance to members and their families. Very generous indeed!<br />
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<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>***** GIVEAWAY!!!!! *****</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ALDI Australia would like to offer 5 of my readers a special ANZAC treat.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have 5 gift packs of of the Exclusive ALDI ANZAC tins to give away!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(That's a delicious amount of ANZACS, enough to share with the rest of the family!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To enter, all I want to know is:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What is your favourite way to eat an ANZAC biscuit?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So easy!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Leave your answer in the comments below!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Entries close 6pm, Friday 25th April 2104 (Melbourne Time)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*Sorry, giveaway only open to Australian residents xxx</span></div>
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*This is not a sponsored post. </div>
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*I was gifted (and tempted by) super yummy cookies in order to help ALDI Australia raise awareness and funds for their ANZAC/RSL fundraising campaign</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">♥</span></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-73950714598899602302013-04-03T00:40:00.000+11:002013-04-03T00:40:01.701+11:00I'm Still Here! : Kinda, Sort of...<div style="text-align: center;">
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Well, hey there!</div>
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How nice of you to stop by!</div>
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I'm still here, (well....kind of, sort of...)</div>
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My mind is taking a bit of a bloggy break, of the mental health kind.</div>
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Time for a bit of Mamma Time Out.</div>
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I'm hoping to get my writing mojo back soon.</div>
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Very soon.</div>
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I hope you'll be back to read my shenanigans.</div>
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Thanks for taking the time to stop by.</div>
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It means so much that you still think of me.</div>
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I'm still avoiding domestic drudgery by hanging out in Facebook Land.</div>
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If you want to join in the fun, you can find me there, at</div>
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<a href="http://facebook.com/whoa.mamma.jess" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Whoa, Mamma!</span></a></div>
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Thanks so much for popping in!</div>
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Did I tell you that you look lovely today?</div>
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Well, you do.</div>
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Just thought you should know...</div>
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Sending big, bright shimmery love your way,</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>♥ Jess</b></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">xxxxx</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwpk5LZNPagsnC4zxWvj6bGtiDrdVgAxSDUUbrKZau4_RN34L-llp7EY3xuCMmrVCVqdsgAslrIy4HctXy9NJ-fogKKL6FJyXtZRrMHlL2Z2kon1e0nCOGbiiaBKsPWysbLEIK_L-LRg/s1600/Jess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqwpk5LZNPagsnC4zxWvj6bGtiDrdVgAxSDUUbrKZau4_RN34L-llp7EY3xuCMmrVCVqdsgAslrIy4HctXy9NJ-fogKKL6FJyXtZRrMHlL2Z2kon1e0nCOGbiiaBKsPWysbLEIK_L-LRg/s320/Jess.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-65459847981565861232012-10-25T13:46:00.000+11:002012-10-25T13:46:33.980+11:00The Blank Page<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8P1jNfYMyaO_pecPmQYz7g3hy4duOcWZtsFoGCuBF1dXFy1VvGwHlqCNpmp0wgiA5kAkSt1wCorybQ-mibC2P08v98N5kxvAIDDhLNhMrWY03tHRpOupofuR_OtujzQAqPURpL7a_Qg/s1600/203787951859181099_4KsmGhLy_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8P1jNfYMyaO_pecPmQYz7g3hy4duOcWZtsFoGCuBF1dXFy1VvGwHlqCNpmp0wgiA5kAkSt1wCorybQ-mibC2P08v98N5kxvAIDDhLNhMrWY03tHRpOupofuR_OtujzQAqPURpL7a_Qg/s400/203787951859181099_4KsmGhLy_c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Blank.<br />
<br />
My mind has gone blank.<br />
<br />
So much to say and share but my voice is quietly protesting.<br />
<br />
Stubborn.<br />
<br />
The cursor just blinks patiently as I open up the laptop, wanting to write but nothing comes out.<br />
<br />
Is my voice shy? Tired? Bored? Protesting against frivolity?<br />
<br />
Maybe she needed a bit of time out?<br />
<br />
A holiday away from Whoa Mamma Land?<br />
<br />
Maybe my voice said: "Ssh! Listen. You hear that? That's the sound of your family needing your presence, the greatest gift you can ever give them. Stop checking in on Facebook before kissing them good morning. Stop trying to take the perfect pic to post on Instagram and just ENJOY the moment. It will never come again".<br />
<br />
Oh, the irony!<br />
<br />
When life is in a frenzy, that's when my voice is the loudest. I would blog on the run, while cooking dinner, I'd wake in the middle of the night. Whenever the inspiration would hit, I'd take a 'Mamma Time Out' and charge at the laptop.<br />
<br />
Now, life is quieter, things are falling into place. There is a contentness and a serenity to the rhythm of my life, which is wonderful, but also scary, in a way.<br />
<br />
The New Year is fast approaching. It will bring about great life changes.<br />
<br />
An exciting new business venture for darling Le Husband; opening a restaurant! Hurrah!<br />
<br />
The New Year will also see my baby girl joining her bigger sisters and heading off to school.<br />
<br />
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I often jokingly rub my hands with glee when speaking about my baby going to school.</div>
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But the truth is, I'm sad.</div>
It's the end of an era.<br />
<br />
For years (6.8 to be exact) I have pondered what it would be like to have all 3 kids at school.<br />
To have FREE TIME.<br />
It's been so long, I don't know what to do with it.<br />
<br />
Return to work? <i>What</i> work? Panic sets in when I think about it.<br />
<br />
Freedom.<br />
Something I've been yearning for for so long, but it's terrifying me.<br />
<br />
You see, I need a <i><b>purpose</b></i>.<br />
<br />
My last 6.8 years have been dedicated to staying home and raising my children.<br />
That was my choice, that gave me a sense of purpose.<br />
Now, there is a slot of time that I can Dedicate To Me and I'm panicking.<br />
<br />
What to do with this precious time?<br />
Work, study, relax, clean, volunteer, work from home?<br />
Sometimes I feel I need to <b style="font-style: italic;">validate </b>my time. Crazy, yes? No?<br />
I don't know where to start.<br />
I'm going blank.<br />
<br />
I've loved being a Stay At Home Mamma (well, not <i>every</i> minute of it, to be quite honest, but every <i>other</i> minute). It's become such a great big part of who I am, that sometimes I'm not sure who I am without it.<br />
<br />
Can I still be a Stay At Home Mamma even when the kids are at school?<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
The new era is a Blank Page and the cursor is patiently blinking.</div>
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The Blank Page is Me.</div>
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<br /></div>
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What am I going to write on that page? </div>
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I'm the author and the editor. </div>
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The main character, the star of my show. </div>
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I'd rather fill that page (and my life) with inspirational triumphs over tragedies, panty-wetting laughter over self-indulgent tears, and swoonworthy/butterflies-in-tummy romance over not-worth-wasting-my-breath drama. I want to fill that page with adventures and engage with wonderfully inspiring and creative characters that add colour and passion to my life. </div>
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I want to turn that Blank Page into such an engrossing novel that I just never want to put it down.</div>
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Well... I guess my voice had something to say afterall...</div>
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P.S What do you think of this ending:</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<i>"And she lived Happily Ever After"</i></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">What do you do when your voice goes quiet?</span></b></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-43582742878424736342012-09-30T00:19:00.000+10:002012-09-30T00:19:07.586+10:00The Summer of the Dress<br />
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As the days become longer, and the sun shines warmer and brighter, my mind turns towards the impending Summer.</div>
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Each season has its own beauty, of course.</div>
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Autumn is aflame with the majestic reds and golds of falling leaves.</div>
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Winter is the romance of a misty haze and the sound of rain falling on roof tops while we snuggle cosily in our warm beds.</div>
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Frivolous Spring makes us giddy with delight, fragrant blossoms fill the air and the earth, once again, is reborn.</div>
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Then there is Summer.</div>
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Long, hot, beautiful Summer.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Summer is...</b></span></div>
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Frolicking at the beach!</div>
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Sweet delicious cherries and juicy watermelons.</div>
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Lazy siestas sleeping under a shady tree.</div>
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The chirping of crickets and cicadas, our lullaby for hot, Summer nights.</div>
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Icy poles and ice creams.</div>
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(Pistachio gelati for me).</div>
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Squirting the children with the garden hose as they squeal with delight, then running for my life as they chase me with buckets of water. (Of course, I let them catch me!).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gIL-A0yiSeOvDZ0IVgFI_td4pxWOeGkQqi55A_PNaVtCAsOnUHBG-WKY29mX05H1c-KgMSu6KD6ijHqDcyNcmKatRbt5bIc3OjGvSQJG3RYoLAQX9m17UuVMAeOrsLXgi3yvkBXH9nc/s1600/427276_356765474333572_1194540948_n-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_gIL-A0yiSeOvDZ0IVgFI_td4pxWOeGkQqi55A_PNaVtCAsOnUHBG-WKY29mX05H1c-KgMSu6KD6ijHqDcyNcmKatRbt5bIc3OjGvSQJG3RYoLAQX9m17UuVMAeOrsLXgi3yvkBXH9nc/s400/427276_356765474333572_1194540948_n-1.jpg" width="342" /></a></div>
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Glorious sunsets.</div>
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Sultry cocktails.</div>
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Isn't it romantic?</div>
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Stillness.</div>
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Serenity.</div>
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And the dresses.</div>
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I love Summer dresses.</div>
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Summer dresses teamed with espadrilles.</div>
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I can't wait to unravel the heavy layers of Winter and pop into a frock.</div>
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I love the gentle feeling of a cooling breeze as it swirls about my bare legs, it's like my dress is dancing.</div>
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A summer dress makes me feel like Sophia Loren, Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
All woman.</div>
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Girly and twirly.</div>
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Fitted in all the right places.</div>
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My curves, long hidden, come out to play.</div>
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Summer has a rhythm that I just can't wait to dance to. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Are you looking forward to Summer?</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>What's your favourite Season?</b></span></div>
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Well, hey there!<br />
Thanks so much for stopping by!<br />
If you enjoy my blog, would you like to share that love and vote for me in the Circle of Moms 'Top 25 Aussie Mum Blogs'? You would?! How fabulous!<br />
You can vote for 'Whoa, Mamma!' with one easy peasy click <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><a href="http://www.circleofmoms.com/blogger/whoa-mamma?blogroll_id=76" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">HERE</span></a></b>!</span><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-35282890435433514062012-09-21T01:46:00.001+10:002012-09-21T02:01:40.191+10:00In Search of 'Kefi': Lost and Found<br />
I like to think of myself as, generally, quite a Happy Soul.<br />
At my best, I feel joyous, exultant, buoyant, radiant.<br />
At my worst, I am merely content, (but ALWAYS grateful).<br />
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I do get the Blues occasionally (ok, well <i>monthly</i>, if you know what I mean) but when I am Swimming in the Depths of Sad Waters, I know that this will (eventually) pass.<br />
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But for me, Life is all about the Pursuit of Happiness.<br />
<br />
The Greeks have a term for this Happiness that lives inside us: this Joyful Spirit, this Passion for Life, this '<i>Joie de Vivre</i>'.<br />
The Greeks call it '<i>kefi</i>'.<br />
And as a proud Grecian Goddess myself, <i>kefi </i>pulsates through my body and my DNA like a passionate, rhythmic dance.<br />
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For Greeks, <i>kefi</i> is found in the sparkle of our eyes, the cheekiness of our smiles, the warmth of our embrace, the abundance of our feasts, the heartiness of our laugher, the generosity of our hospitality, the gusto of our voices in song, the passion in our dance. <i>Kefi</i> celebrates the joy of being alive.<br />
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This morning my <i>kefi</i> was quashed because of one sad little daughter in our house.<br />
There is a saying that goes (with which I wholeheartedly agree ):<br />
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<i>"A Mother is only as Happy as her Un-Happiest Child"</i>.</div>
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And it was very true this morning.</div>
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When my children are truly unhappy, it guts me and torments me. It's the most wretched feeling in the world.</div>
Upset and defiant, there was nothing I could do to soothe her troubled mind (stubborness is a trait she gets from her father, I might add, just quietly). It saddened me to leave her at school this morning, red eyed and with quivering lips.<br />
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When child is sad, mother is sadder.<br />
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I got home and my <i>kefi</i> plummeted. I had no joy.<br />
Not even Pinterest, nor chocolate, nor offers of a massage by Mr WhoaMamma could settle my troubled heart. I could not rest until I knew my child was okay.<br />
<br />
I looked at the time and grabbed my keys. It was time for recess.<br />
"I'm off!" I shouted to Le Husband. "Just want to check that Little Miss C is okay".<br />
"I'll join you", said my partner in crime and off we went, Mr & Mrs WhoaMamma, arm in arm, to the school grounds to spy on our offspring.<br />
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And there they were. Our twins. Laughing and playing amongst their friends, screeching with joy.<br />
We were spotted and towards us they ran, embracing our legs, breathless with delight.<br />
"What are you doing here?" they queried.<br />
"Oh, Daddy and I were just having a coffee nearby and on our way home we thought we'd just pop in and say 'hello'. So.... 'hello'!"<br />
Miss C looked at me with a Knowingness and hugged me extra tight.<br />
"Thank you, Mamma. I'm happy now!" and with that the bell rang and off they skipped back to class.<br />
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I may not be able to solve the world's problems but I'll sure as heck be there for my kidlets in any way I can.<br />
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The sun shone and the birds tweeted extra sweetly.</div>
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I 'high-fived' Mr WhoaMamma and gave him a cheeky wink.</div>
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I could contain myself no longer.</div>
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Arms outstretched, fingers clicking, a quick kick of the left foot followed by a quick kick of the right, I joyously slapped my ankle.</div>
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My kefi was back.</div>
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OPA!</div>
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And now... a musical expresson of <i>kefi</i>, kitschy Greek-cinema style. Enjoy!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">(From the film <i><u>My Daughter the Socialist </u>(1966) starring Aliki Vougiouklaki)</i></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/wlykI79RFv0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/Top-25-Australian-Moms-2012?trk=t25_Top-25-Australian-Moms-2012" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank" title="Circle of Moms Top 25 Australian Moms - 2012 - Vote for me!"><img src="http://images3.circleofmoms.com/images/21981/moms/link_badge.png" title="Circle of Moms Top 25 Australian Moms - 2012 - Vote for me!" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you enjoy what I do here in Whoa Mamma Land, I'd love it if you'd take a moment to vote for me in the Circle of Moms 'Top 25 Aussie Mum Blogs'! Just click <a href="http://www.circleofmoms.com/blogger/whoa-mamma?blogroll_id=76#_" target="_blank"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">HERE</span></b></a> to vote! THANK YOU EVER SO MUCH!<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What gives you 'kefi'?</span></td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-71505377139545269302012-09-15T14:40:00.000+10:002012-09-15T20:56:11.246+10:00The Haunting Words of Mr F<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IVHHVfYRXv665CQxukzUAO1CB9BbNexcqYuhN5Llmo1fpbTo9RFASwaXGJcmMRCHDT4-h3Qosed15VK5S8_blqBGORVtXuvvlHS6glLPddbJUlPhkrRRUugnGglvybjNuCfxHDsI9EQ/s1600/tumblr_lxw92qsYm51qh0381o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7IVHHVfYRXv665CQxukzUAO1CB9BbNexcqYuhN5Llmo1fpbTo9RFASwaXGJcmMRCHDT4-h3Qosed15VK5S8_blqBGORVtXuvvlHS6glLPddbJUlPhkrRRUugnGglvybjNuCfxHDsI9EQ/s400/tumblr_lxw92qsYm51qh0381o1_500.jpg" width="318" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/90665467/wild-and-precious-life-8x10" target="_blank">Artwork by Katie Daisy</a></td></tr>
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I awoke, determined.</div>
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I often make promises to myself, many I have failed to keep.</div>
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Changes needed to be made.</div>
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My intentions are (mostly!) good and pure, in this one and only precious life we have.</div>
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While half of me is grounded in the domestic drudgery of cleaning, cooking, shopping, organising things for school, entertaining kiddies and le Husband and just trying to catch up on <u style="font-style: italic;">stuff</u>, the other half of me is soaring in the clouds, dreaming of adventures and Pretty Little Things to create.</div>
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I have a special little shelf in my cupboard for my 'When I Have Time...' projects.</div>
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Beautiful fabrics, golden threads, bamboo handles, glass beads, earring backings, embossed paper, silk ribbons, watercolours, vintage flowers, nuggets of turquoise, Yiayia's unfinished embroideries. My collection has been sitting there patiently for about 6 1/2 years, since the day my first borns came into this world. My Box of Pretty Things is awaiting the moment I latch onto the Runaway Horse of Creative Inspiration when it hits, holding tightly on its reigns, galloping and yee-haaa-ing with joyous glee instead of shrugging my shoulders and waving glumly as it passes me by, yet again.</div>
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My heart cries out as I scrub another crusty pasta pot:</div>
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"Oh Spirit of Creativity! Do not abandon me!</div>
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We will be together! We will create!</div>
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I promise! I'll Try!"</div>
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The words of my 4th Grade Teacher, Mr F come back to haunt me. </div>
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Mr F was tall and dandy. He had a head shaped like an egg, bald and shiny on top. </div>
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He had round black-rimmed spectacles and wore pinstriped pants that made him look as tall as a tower. To these pants he would attach silver bicycle clips near his ankles so that his trousers would not get caught up as his long, spindly legs powered his bicycle to school.</div>
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Mr F was very Proper. He relished in the Queen's English and rolled his R's when he spoke: (<i>Rrrrrrrodney! Please stop harrrrrassing that poorrrrrr girrrrrrl and rrrreturrrn to yourrrrr seat prrrromptly!). </i>He was very theatrical and was in his element when conducting our music lessons. We would sit on the floor as he took position at the schools piano, under a portrait of HRH Queen Elizebeth II, resplendant in her puffy yellow gown and majestic crown. </div>
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<i>"Zippedy Doo Dah! Zippedy Ay!</i></div>
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<i>My Oh My What A Wonderful Day!</i></div>
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<i>Plenty of Sunshine Heading My Way!</i></div>
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<i>Zippedy Doo Dah! Zippedy Ay!"</i></div>
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His energetic fingers would thump away at the piano keys, like an octopus flailing it's tentacles. Mr F would bob up and down, the piano stool squeaking threateningly. It was a wonder he never broke it or fell off it.</div>
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It was the night of parent/teacher interviews and my parents took their places on the little squeaky wooden chairs positioned in front of Mr F's desk. I sat meekly behind them.</div>
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"Well!", exclaimed Mr F, "What can I say about Jessica? She is a puuuuuuuuuurre delight!</div>
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A's in writing, A's in mathematics, she loves herrrrr arrrrrrrt and parrrrrticipates most joyously in ourrrrr musical prrrresentations".</div>
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"Therrrrre is one thing, I could add, howeverrrr....." </div>
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He leaned in closer. His change of position set his spectacles ablaze reflecting the light of the classroom. He looked almost Supernatural.</div>
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"She is a most fabulous student, but...... I have neverrrrr seen herrrr <i>trrrrrry</i>....."</div>
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I have mulled over those words all my life.<br />
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Was this good or bad?<br />
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Things would just naturally click in my mind while I was at school.<br />
A quiet achiever.</div>
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I loved reading and I loved writing stories. Maths just seemed to work in my head.</div>
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My grades were always high (except for Physical Education, but that's another blog post. You'll get your chapter, Mr S).</div>
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If I could achieve things without trying, wasn't that a <i>good</i> thing?</div>
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<i>" I have never seen her try...."</i></div>
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Mr F was right.</div>
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Many things in my life seem to have happened effortlessly.</div>
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Whether it's been willing it with all my heart and soul or putting it out to the universe, things just seem to fall into place. But not always. </div>
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In some instances I have tried and failed badly. I have fought hard. I have tried to make relationships work, putting all my heart and soul in them but to no avail. What more could I do? What more could I give? It wasn't meant to be. And in hindsight that was a good thing, the best thing. For I was not being honoured or respected or cherished. Those lessons made me stronger and wiser.</div>
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The biggest battle in my life at the moment is balancing the needs of my family against the needs of My Self. Family inadvertently always wins. But maybe I should rephrase that.</div>
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It's not about Winning and Losing.</div>
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This is about Winning and Winning.</div>
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My first pledge is Not To Give Up.</div>
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Even as I type, my children are fighting, spilling milk, shredding tissue paper all over my loungeroom floor, my husband is shooing the cat off the kitchen bench, my sister is asking me to drive her somewhere, I have 5 baskets of washing waiting for me in the laundry, the fridge is practically empty, I have no idea what I'm going to cook for dinner, my grandmothers want me to come to visit, I still haven't done our taxes, the plants in my garden are withering, I'm wondering what's going on in Facebook Land, my floors are crunchy, I'm still in my pyjamas, and I do believe I'm due a toilet break.</div>
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But look here, Mr F!</div>
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I am trying!</div>
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I am perservering!</div>
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It would be so easy for me to succumb to my Haus Frau Guilt, get off this laptop and tend to Life's Messes like I usually do. Deny my passions, deny my Right to Write.</div>
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But I'm not, am I?</div>
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Right now, I choose me.</div>
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I choose to ride my Creativity Dragon and release these humble little words.</div>
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I have created a Blog Post!</div>
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And do you know what, Haus Frau Guilt?</div>
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I have picked up my Yiayia's unfinished embroidery and I am doing a little section EVERY DAY.</div>
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Little by little.<br />
Each little strand I weave makes my heart smile bigger and bigger and bigger.</div>
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And next week I am going to make some earrings.<br />
Dangly ones, with gold and turquoise.</div>
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And the week after that, a handbag with bamboo handles that I will fill with treasures and carry proudly around with me when I go to the shops to buy more fabric softener and cat food.</div>
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I am going to Keep On Going.</div>
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And as long as I keep on going, I am Winning.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>What happens when you 'try' in Life?</b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>What would you like to 'try'?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Are you afraid of failing? Or succeeding?</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.circleofmoms.com/top25/Top-25-Australian-Moms-2012?trk=t25_Top-25-Australian-Moms-2012" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank" title="Circle of Moms Top 25 Australian Moms - 2012 - Vote for me!"><img src="http://images3.circleofmoms.com/images/21889/moms/link_badge.png" title="Circle of Moms Top 25 Australian Moms - 2012 - Vote for me!" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm so excited to be nominated for a spot in the Circle of Moms 'Top 25 Aussie Mum Blogs!'.<br />
If you'd like to help me get there, please feel free to click on the link and Vote!<br />
Thank you for your Love & Support, my precious ones!</td></tr>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-17604000315366701942012-09-09T18:08:00.003+10:002012-09-09T18:26:51.157+10:00Oh, Happy Day!<div style="text-align: center;">
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Today we celebrated darling Le Husband's birthday.</div>
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(Happy Birthday, agapi!)</div>
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We had yummy pancakes for breakfast followed by scrumptious chocolate birthday cake topped with choc icing, candy sprinkles and fresh strawberries (to make it healthy, obviously!)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for Daddy.</td></tr>
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I whipped up a quick batch of spinach, ricotta and feta rolls in the oven for lunch </div>
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and we decided to eat them in the park. </div>
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The sun was shining.</div>
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It was a glorious day.</div>
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The girls delighted in the swings...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squeeeeeee!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw-xj3f4u7OO6ix3WpKMumw_KsKmP4j75n1wDVv8t6P8rKRgZtE27QniulUxA5C-XEG0dk7TnaFBvpv1C7mtzy-GLGK6lrgC5L7pqajMI-ApGS5F74-xdLt4pGTdfcxuMEgz535lWEsU/s1600/Laughing+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTw-xj3f4u7OO6ix3WpKMumw_KsKmP4j75n1wDVv8t6P8rKRgZtE27QniulUxA5C-XEG0dk7TnaFBvpv1C7mtzy-GLGK6lrgC5L7pqajMI-ApGS5F74-xdLt4pGTdfcxuMEgz535lWEsU/s400/Laughing+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Higher, Mamma, higher!</td></tr>
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Darling Birthday Boy and I delighted in them.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TvfE9761O8VAZjV-PqLaX2qr775aTrzkQ5M33WFo7xgeqXoYoNOLX_45FGlx-PvOCn3QDjRUana-nxVc68DxMTwmiJzVCWwFBBs2xk5HK6KgDiZyP_8zgYhV8oq0w9KxpFrz-BqVlrk/s1600/Katia+bliss.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TvfE9761O8VAZjV-PqLaX2qr775aTrzkQ5M33WFo7xgeqXoYoNOLX_45FGlx-PvOCn3QDjRUana-nxVc68DxMTwmiJzVCWwFBBs2xk5HK6KgDiZyP_8zgYhV8oq0w9KxpFrz-BqVlrk/s400/Katia+bliss.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Ssshhhhh! Do not disturb blissfully content child...</div>
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Oh, Happy Day indeed!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>What made <u>you</u> happy today?</b></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-47393530439313061832012-08-07T01:06:00.000+10:002012-10-16T09:53:54.874+11:00In the Haus of Madam V<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Have you ever met a woman who was so extraordinairy, so unique, so perplexing, zany and inspiring, that they've left their mark on you forever? Madam V was one of those very, very extraordinairy ladies.</div>
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A bit of an enigma.</div>
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Endearilngly eccentric.</div>
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One of a kind.</div>
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When I was a child, Madam V lived across the road from us for many, many years.</div>
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She was a zany Jewish lady aged in her 50's or 60's.</div>
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Artistic and Bohemian.</div>
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Slightly frightening.</div>
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She had a frenetic bob of riotous auburn curls that jiggled as she walked. Her eyes were a searing hazel green that she often lined with kohl liner. She drove a deep scarlet vintage Jaguar with cream leather seats. She always looked out of sorts behind the wheel, as if she should have had a personal chauffeur driving her. She would often wear a big black velvet swing coat in Winter which engulfed her tiny frame. She was so short and petite she looked like a child wearing her Mother's dress ups.</div>
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My favourite image of Madam V is seeing her walk to the local milk bar, dressed in leggings, Grecian sandals and a big white man-sized t-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Leave Me Alone'. She walked like she was a woman on a mission, charging down the street. She was never without a cigarette (tobacco or other). A thousand lines etched little paths around her red stained lips.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ2Fw7_aaJz59S4jZ1EYTmcy9fJU1nDh24oH-Q-6ICTLb3WE28QkjnNB8jh4J1zVhAcdDAp1a_9aRg15C4XHIcieAXxjSnt8wZ7LUnAZbvgh5eTtnT_TSSNg48luY1aucCNb8c-lQDYY/s1600/shirt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSZ2Fw7_aaJz59S4jZ1EYTmcy9fJU1nDh24oH-Q-6ICTLb3WE28QkjnNB8jh4J1zVhAcdDAp1a_9aRg15C4XHIcieAXxjSnt8wZ7LUnAZbvgh5eTtnT_TSSNg48luY1aucCNb8c-lQDYY/s400/shirt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Madam V lived alone. Her husband had died years earlier.</div>
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But her house was always a haven for artists, writers and intellectuals.</div>
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When I was 17, my next door neighbour Miss M, who was only a few years older than I, approached me and asked me if I'd like to earn some extra pocket money.</div>
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'Sure', I said, 'what do you have in mind?'</div>
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'Would you like to help me clean Madam V's house for a few hours every fortnight? She's just fired her cleaning lady and wants someone she can trust' </div>
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'Why not?' I replied. A girl had to earn money to sustain her shoe habit.</div>
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And so I journeyed into the Haus of Madam V.</div>
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It was a beautiful house. Tinkling chimes and statues of Buddha graced the front door. Sunshine beamed through the giant bay windows illuminating the tiny dust particles that danced about like little fairies doing a jig. Every room was painted white. The furniture was white, the doors were white. The floors were covered with white flokati rugs, which at first glance for my naive eyes looked like dead polar bears. The house smelled like gardenias and jasmine with a dash of patchouli for that extra touch of exoticism. Vases of white lilies adorned every room. Big bold paintings adorned the walls majestically.</div>
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Her house was always spotless. All Miss M and I would do was vacuum, clean the bathroom, dust and mop. Classical music always greeted us when we walked in. My time cleaning the Haus of Madam V educated me in the soulful melodies of Bach, Mahler and Saint Saens.</div>
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My favourite room in the house was Madam V's bedroom with its white walls, white linen drapes, a soft woollen throw strewn over the white sheets of the bed. A vintage dressing table gleamed with little crystal bottles of perfume that I would so lovingly and delicately dust. French doors opened up to a private little courtyard bursting with roses. The most striking feature of the room however was a beautiful mural painted on the wall at the head of the bed. It was by one of my favourite artists, Mirka Mora, who Madam V happened to be very good friends with. It was at the Haus of Madam V that I was exposed to such beautiful, vibrant art that touches my soul to this very day.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsA-vjF63vsXQRP9u1qwBp-UZd_HU_EIlr6ADvB1TdQEsyN8JN1VhZ02C4oNt4N9BXrlYsTGycNTlg7a5epzwseB5pZUdYLYpOhQFjlZN-DUv59atTcdR98rug6Kh2DDVtiO5BQbS0D-U/s1600/951188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsA-vjF63vsXQRP9u1qwBp-UZd_HU_EIlr6ADvB1TdQEsyN8JN1VhZ02C4oNt4N9BXrlYsTGycNTlg7a5epzwseB5pZUdYLYpOhQFjlZN-DUv59atTcdR98rug6Kh2DDVtiO5BQbS0D-U/s400/951188.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artist extraordinaire, Ms Mirka Mora in her studio<br />
Image source <a href="http://www.melbourneweeklyportphillip.com.au/news/local/news/opinion/my-voice-mirka-mora/1963935.aspx" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
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The mural featured whimsical angels (like the ones below). The angels warmed my heart and kept me company as I beat the dust out of the flokati rugs with a rattan racquet.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">''Two Angels' 1970 by Mirka Mora.<br />
Image source <a href="http://www.aasd.com.au/subscribers/list_all_works.cfm?concat=MoraMirka&start=31&show=10" target="_blank">here</a></td></tr>
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Madam V would never be home when we cleaned. She would leave money for us on the table with a note of thanks. Though there were two occasions I remember when she arrived home early.<br />
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On the first occasion she had been to an event that commemorated the Jewish Holocaust during World War 2. She opened up to me about the time when she was a little girl in her homeland. Her family were hiding in secrecy, trying to avoid Nazi capture. What stayed with me was what had happened to her father. She told me that there was not enough food to feed everyone so her father sacrificed his portions. When the food was close to running out he decided to go in search for more to feed his precious family. He never returned. Was he captured? Killed? No one knew.<br />
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On the second occasion Madam V burst into the house dancing. She had drunk in the joys of champagne and was feeling festive. I was packing up the mop when she called me in her thick, Jewish accent.<br />
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'Tzesika! Come here! I have somethink to give to you!'<br />
She held out a lovely handkitted purple scarf.<br />
"Zis is for you, darlink girl. I vant you to vear it vith Suffragette Pride!" she exclaimed as she wrapped it around my neck. She'd been to a luncheon celebrating the anniversay of women getting the vote and was high on the glories of Sisterhood.<br />
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I cleaned Madam V's house for almost a year and then stopped when I got into University.<br />
She moved house not long after, taking her magnificent Jaguar and Bohemian-ess with her.<br />
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I think of her often and adore her for living her life so openly with her free-spirit and 'Who Gives A &*^%' attitude.<br />
And come Winter, I dig out my purple scarf and wear it with great big, glorious Suffragette pride.<br />
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Linking up with the lovely Jess from <a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" target="_blank">Diary of a SAHM</a> for 'IBOT'!</div>
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<a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" title="IBOT"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/images/ibot.jpg" width="150" /></a>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-89132306177562075672012-08-04T15:55:00.001+10:002012-08-04T15:55:06.108+10:00Wild Orchids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQr2dYywj7Ft7kGaDzibvby7nxGX3-xZMqEl1cvY62C9zed70XN8z8p-qfrruxSL9ruIskgY3sZAtXq9J-irfGIzGN-2tsMdhmqoeq8HKbR1mb5-xOiLCu_tAhNKjNeZZVGVtWN-2FnM/s1600/IMG_20120801_132703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQr2dYywj7Ft7kGaDzibvby7nxGX3-xZMqEl1cvY62C9zed70XN8z8p-qfrruxSL9ruIskgY3sZAtXq9J-irfGIzGN-2tsMdhmqoeq8HKbR1mb5-xOiLCu_tAhNKjNeZZVGVtWN-2FnM/s320/IMG_20120801_132703.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Before I begin, if this post's title has excited you and you have stumbled across my humble little blog expecting some saucy action between Mickey Rourke and Carré Otis, I'm sorry to have to disappoint you. I will, however, compensate by sharing this quick pic just for you:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIaS0yMXHVSG5D787UJ2jtdI07D99T40aHcfDXRd9ru3xQOEYmbU6fBT1DbfEWJEymoSzYkvSB_2pTLHrWfZRtHKLlatHo-Mu6TH8a37oWEXCUgUW26mXYB1803Pz3456QVH7c61PVc8/s1600/1309929629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkIaS0yMXHVSG5D787UJ2jtdI07D99T40aHcfDXRd9ru3xQOEYmbU6fBT1DbfEWJEymoSzYkvSB_2pTLHrWfZRtHKLlatHo-Mu6TH8a37oWEXCUgUW26mXYB1803Pz3456QVH7c61PVc8/s320/1309929629.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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There. Happy now? </div>
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That's as raunchy as this post gets but you're more than welcome to stick around and read on x<br />
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Now, back to the Orchids.<br />
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In my back garden lives a terracotta pot. From it's heart grow the orchids. They grow wild, for I never tend to them. I keep meaning to, and one day soon, I will.<br />
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My father brought home this pot over 15 years ago. It was a present from the college where he was teaching architecture. My father had decided to resign from his position to pursue his real passion, performing and composing music. In this pot stood one lone orchid, straight and proud. I, too, was proud of my father. He had made a brave decision to be true to his heart and live his passion. This inspires me everyday.<br />
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I never really remember noticing the orchids again until 7 and a half years ago when my father died.<br />
We were having a clear out of the garden when I found the pot. It was filled with grey shrivelled stalks and weeds. I was going to throw it out when I noticed a shiny purple stalk. Hope in the darkness. It was alive.<br />
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I watched over the next few week as the stalk grew, producing little buds. One morning while taking out the laundry I noticed the first bloom. It was glorious. Nature's beauty. The bloom was joined by others. I revelled in their magnificence. I cut some to take to the cemetery on Dad's birthday.<br />
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I am not a gardener. I can't even keep a pot of parsley alive. How do these orchids grow so majestically, year after year? I want to be like those orchids. We all should be. They shed all that no longer nourishes them and are reborn. Life comes from the light and warmth of the sun, the drops of rain from the sky. They live simply. All that they will ever really need to be magnificent is already lying within them.<br />
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The old terracotta pot is struggling to contain them. The roots and stems are bursting out the top. But the orchids are not struggling. They are climbing higher and higher reaching for the sun, bowing their heads in reverence. I like to believe that they're paying homage to my Dad.<br />
We should all be reaching for that sun and living with passion. I'm trying to. x<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Are you letting your Magnificence shine?</span><br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-1924572511818945502012-07-25T13:43:00.000+10:002012-07-25T13:43:09.836+10:00Happy Birthday to Me: (Almost) Wordless Wednesday<div style="text-align: center;">
The day began with me finding a silver hair in my eyebrow.</div>
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Ah, 36.</div>
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Am off to a great start.</div>
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Darling Le Husband ushered the girlies into the kitchen where I was presented with a beautiful bunch of hyacinths, a voucher for a pampering facial and massage, and a pretty little box wrapped in glittery gold paper. Katrushki proudly gave me a drawing crumpled around a 20 cent piece.<br />
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Inside the box was a lovely necklace enscribed with my name, "Jessica".</div>
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You see, I'm 36 now and am renowned for bouts of forgetfullness ('Mumnesia', I call it). </div>
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At least I'll never forget my name.</div>
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My mother popped round and surprised me with some cookbooks. </div>
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(Need a bit of help in the culinary department, do I, hey Mummy Dearest????)</div>
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Mother Dearest then took me out to brunch for some delish Ricotta and Blueberry Hotcakes. Yum!<br />
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Katrushki and I snuggled up by the cafe's warming fireplace.</div>
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I am now deliriously happy lying in bed while fabulous Mr WhoaMamma does the grocery shopping and school pick-ups. My birthday wish was to have a day off cooking and cleaning. So far, so good.<br />
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Darling sister has offered up her babysitting services so I foresee lots of sangria and cocktails in Mr & Mrs WhoaMamma's future tonight. Olé!<br />
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I have a feeling 36 is going to be the best year yet!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><b>What's been your favourite birthday so far?</b></span></i></span></div>
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Linking up with My Little Drummer Boys and Twinkle in the Eye for Wordless Wednesday!</div>
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<a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;" target="_blank"><img alt="My Little Drummer Boys" border="0" src="http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m581/blogsbysass/MLDB-Blog-Button-1.png" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.twinkleintheeyeblog.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="http://www.twinkleintheeyeblog.com/"><img src=" http://i1059.photobucket.com/albums/t434/hbbcustom/twinkleintheye/breebutton2.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-83845993237151004522012-07-21T18:48:00.000+10:002012-07-21T18:50:24.448+10:00Oh I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It was one of those magical Winter days, all sunshine.</div>
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Darling le Husband and I gave each other a knowing look:</div>
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"Let's escape".</div>
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We pried the children away from the laptop and television (sadly, they have inherited their mother's addiction) and rounded up the 3 Barbie scooters.</div>
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With sunshine as glorious as this, it was too good to waste in front of a screen full of pixels.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xu8395V0f7jp__xBhE6Rp3OyZbOw_C062Kmp3aXLE_gG8grHFDtBPUQKwzR1qAC7YkwI14hR7-Zb2bfBCJVfGOt-4sfv6NDsQmEfkJMoG4qPcavjgSXnY5RnixR3PuyX6DctNRniSu8/s1600/IMG_20120721_160458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xu8395V0f7jp__xBhE6Rp3OyZbOw_C062Kmp3aXLE_gG8grHFDtBPUQKwzR1qAC7YkwI14hR7-Zb2bfBCJVfGOt-4sfv6NDsQmEfkJMoG4qPcavjgSXnY5RnixR3PuyX6DctNRniSu8/s320/IMG_20120721_160458.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy with his Beach Bunnies</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklaxP7r0IYUp53Zx2kmFxdPhyphenhyphenVvzHxe-qjENsfRVckNKgcbMHJrWmVsEIRwFM8wycWMCeZH22PeQl9YxmGjXTN-Q8Chndpqd66dth-G32uSVjh1BSW-08dm-2jPl8KOIvXeap5wvTb1Q/s1600/IMG_20120721_155926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhklaxP7r0IYUp53Zx2kmFxdPhyphenhyphenVvzHxe-qjENsfRVckNKgcbMHJrWmVsEIRwFM8wycWMCeZH22PeQl9YxmGjXTN-Q8Chndpqd66dth-G32uSVjh1BSW-08dm-2jPl8KOIvXeap5wvTb1Q/s320/IMG_20120721_155926.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Katrushki in the Sun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8erGRt2buT_egRb8wLKHupdFB1TavkK4lvPhbxylx7D5andwWCTrreK8ygnd0TrBYrNNh8wB_a6peREvbt18OUnSuquw5myC3CKNsWZM79mXSVbCuLPBxE2j6OCLmK2f0kF1ZSGqh2hg/s1600/IMG_20120721_160217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8erGRt2buT_egRb8wLKHupdFB1TavkK4lvPhbxylx7D5andwWCTrreK8ygnd0TrBYrNNh8wB_a6peREvbt18OUnSuquw5myC3CKNsWZM79mXSVbCuLPBxE2j6OCLmK2f0kF1ZSGqh2hg/s320/IMG_20120721_160217.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twin Bookends</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Barefoot and carefree</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQxu6hMcao0Sphd97iKIqEkszOfHjgtOlvasvkBQY7xOrkzWIys3nDNtOCyzZNsRarB8BulNBGbV11_Qs7q5mHjXLH9h7Fe3o1U-Kil3PiH8WBjnc0f2HoT7ysA9c56FGP-_6hh5M6dk/s1600/IMG_20120721_160909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQxu6hMcao0Sphd97iKIqEkszOfHjgtOlvasvkBQY7xOrkzWIys3nDNtOCyzZNsRarB8BulNBGbV11_Qs7q5mHjXLH9h7Fe3o1U-Kil3PiH8WBjnc0f2HoT7ysA9c56FGP-_6hh5M6dk/s320/IMG_20120721_160909.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Mummy, the water is tickling my toes!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiog5UBmfTNFCIA8Xg1Snm5xLiBrh7NzxBbMBx0a64A-BkGia24es5kixByCIsLZTOjiWuxfjlLtDyB4nm1xjP8qH_mapz_FDvnf97GxW3FCvRFpAR_pDF8P1IeL6IkClgkV16pgq1MFE/s1600/IMG_20120721_161032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiog5UBmfTNFCIA8Xg1Snm5xLiBrh7NzxBbMBx0a64A-BkGia24es5kixByCIsLZTOjiWuxfjlLtDyB4nm1xjP8qH_mapz_FDvnf97GxW3FCvRFpAR_pDF8P1IeL6IkClgkV16pgq1MFE/s320/IMG_20120721_161032.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Can we do this <i>every </i>day?!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlqiuU3ByXclaBm8KKm9E0OhlbojfagENY8GIWnYTN73hK2lhSvKaRrVrw9v4w_nYcrqau-Id2LYLikJN3ihgEQ9ir5uFQo6tTbb7xcoqpMdaJcHVpdZWgc1zjsJnD_CyM9J4SfOod6U/s1600/IMG_20120721_161129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlqiuU3ByXclaBm8KKm9E0OhlbojfagENY8GIWnYTN73hK2lhSvKaRrVrw9v4w_nYcrqau-Id2LYLikJN3ihgEQ9ir5uFQo6tTbb7xcoqpMdaJcHVpdZWgc1zjsJnD_CyM9J4SfOod6U/s320/IMG_20120721_161129.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ahoy, there!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6RfVXyZvdcxvR7ZC2xg8dkpGyERNhft6SgtDLwUbLRXx9tDYsNV2m5oT6J2cQkHVgZLlSc-UNgNPwyPnr3mVcp7ZDvPw2tk1f8FuyFvSl0904eImqy9V4InRlKpmdet48liQiv2VDZ3g/s1600/IMG_20120721_162720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6RfVXyZvdcxvR7ZC2xg8dkpGyERNhft6SgtDLwUbLRXx9tDYsNV2m5oT6J2cQkHVgZLlSc-UNgNPwyPnr3mVcp7ZDvPw2tk1f8FuyFvSl0904eImqy9V4InRlKpmdet48liQiv2VDZ3g/s320/IMG_20120721_162720.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We collected some shells to remember the day</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSAL0-7M_q3taqOBn1ke_iwvDjgFzG56dk3epU40q8YBuXSreM6AVyLZMqfALPSHLkdVUJRdZBR8RgEUMwgmBj8Jy_n4vorWmlxAFkXjulp_RDvnXu4SKLzKXAxlaG3IyQmszd2QuzG0/s1600/IMG_20120721_162904.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgSAL0-7M_q3taqOBn1ke_iwvDjgFzG56dk3epU40q8YBuXSreM6AVyLZMqfALPSHLkdVUJRdZBR8RgEUMwgmBj8Jy_n4vorWmlxAFkXjulp_RDvnXu4SKLzKXAxlaG3IyQmszd2QuzG0/s320/IMG_20120721_162904.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It was a very good day.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>What do you like to do to chase the Winter Blues away?</i></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-52974602334806826252012-07-17T11:30:00.000+10:002012-07-17T14:08:38.895+10:00Under the Winter Sun: or : Good Things Happen When You Run Away from Laundry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was a morning just like any other manic school morning.<br />
Day in, day out. The same.<br />
Always the same.<br />
A frenzy of locating boots, library books, permission slips, slicing bananas, burning the toast, plaiting braids, settling arguments, wiping away tears.<br />
The walk to school was brisk, hurried.<br />
Through the school gates, "Bye darlings. Kiss, kiss. Have a great day. Mummy loves you".<br />
<br />
I turned my heels to return home.<br />
I paused.<br />
Home.<br />
What was awaiting me?<br />
Unmade beds, dirty dishes, mountains of laundry, floors littered with toys.<br />
Bugger that!<br />
<br />
Time to get out of the Routine Rut and have a spontaneous adventure.<br />
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I was On The Run.<br />
Running Away from Domestic Drudgery.<br />
Having a Spontaneous Adventure.<br />
And loving every single thrilling moment of it.<br />
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First stop, coffee.<br />
Aaaaah!<br />
With a deliciously hot latte in hand I let my soul guide me.<br />
It followed the rays of the sun and led me to the glistening horizon of the sea.<br />
The Beach.<br />
If there is a place on earth that can cure any of my soul's ills, it is the beach.<br />
I am blessed, blessed, blessed to be living 5 mins walk away from it.<br />
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I breathed in the salty sea air. Rejoicing in Rejuvination.<br />
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I made my way to the pier, seagulls dancing overhead.<br />
I heard a most beautiful voice chanting in the wind.<br />
A man dressed in a yellow fisherman's hooded jacket was standing on the pier, his arms outstretched, the sun's rays making his face glow golden. He was oblivious to me as I timidly and respectfully walked past him. I did not want to disturb. He sang to the sun. I could make out some Spanish words. Was it a lament? An ode? It was beautiful. I found myself tearing up. I wanted to know his story. The mysterious singing stranger dressed in yellow singing to the Sun. I walked on as his soulful chant was carried by the wind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInAqRsSqYFnksHUja7gVBBuKUr8jQFI92LJfScJ2NEVqsVnpqVza1t404ljWrcFbjXjsF8P0WfXBFhK6tTK1n20ue347mUCHFnZnNn98klb5bP96DZmLkL6WTsKrvXK-KwJ11hhXlO1k/s1600/IMG_20120628_095044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInAqRsSqYFnksHUja7gVBBuKUr8jQFI92LJfScJ2NEVqsVnpqVza1t404ljWrcFbjXjsF8P0WfXBFhK6tTK1n20ue347mUCHFnZnNn98klb5bP96DZmLkL6WTsKrvXK-KwJ11hhXlO1k/s320/IMG_20120628_095044.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The sun's rays glistened on the water like jewels, they were the diamonds of my day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh5-FqP_JfTDdCuseDKD8xQbmtxMlIH0HOBpJnt95ROoAbsLAaA2qKXhFzBCJ4qUSVzjrPePf67mTsTWr_2s6T0SBBX2xYk-mJ-lV6ewn8vrSKWJFF5UkuaBvd4ccWX8sIEp3yPFpRYI/s1600/IMG_20120628_095855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPh5-FqP_JfTDdCuseDKD8xQbmtxMlIH0HOBpJnt95ROoAbsLAaA2qKXhFzBCJ4qUSVzjrPePf67mTsTWr_2s6T0SBBX2xYk-mJ-lV6ewn8vrSKWJFF5UkuaBvd4ccWX8sIEp3yPFpRYI/s320/IMG_20120628_095855.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A little empty boat rocked gently. I imagined laying in it and napping, like a baby in a cradle.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJGF2tAb_6MLurCmmHXJnIUUxjHHpDYYUmUsY4uh-oadgUQj5HPngo20Dk4_tLZUbLKfdX3dgSerkehDtOespN4sLtr0v4FatFAbtrhV2IB0IKlLT_-1FYuhSD-TVTPwm_BCcKv0RPxY/s1600/IMG_20120628_100120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYJGF2tAb_6MLurCmmHXJnIUUxjHHpDYYUmUsY4uh-oadgUQj5HPngo20Dk4_tLZUbLKfdX3dgSerkehDtOespN4sLtr0v4FatFAbtrhV2IB0IKlLT_-1FYuhSD-TVTPwm_BCcKv0RPxY/s320/IMG_20120628_100120.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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A self-portrait, of sorts.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKGxAFtxXY1BWpMtGXr7PwCyzLwgPlNq1SFLEB1cccwU5J59a0BhztLE2HOPAXjrSngvMUG5weSfEQt5-EkQILkM-fvUh6hLrpw3LZ-X-bt4SLO1ArB-dvygOjvyafMc6BsG2ZiBCDfQ/s1600/Shadows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyKGxAFtxXY1BWpMtGXr7PwCyzLwgPlNq1SFLEB1cccwU5J59a0BhztLE2HOPAXjrSngvMUG5weSfEQt5-EkQILkM-fvUh6hLrpw3LZ-X-bt4SLO1ArB-dvygOjvyafMc6BsG2ZiBCDfQ/s320/Shadows.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Serenity</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiqvjv1cV6kA5dTEYBLz1r4diQN-An7s6ahY6dN0J9A0YIv7NuTQx844grGkA8-h2N8zKOy01P9BkHPYFLpTCmhxVdUiq0BnzieqDCvioVHYCw4xhicKv4QW_fh-JYhCj7hJQTdu-z9w/s1600/IMG_20120628_101428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWiqvjv1cV6kA5dTEYBLz1r4diQN-An7s6ahY6dN0J9A0YIv7NuTQx844grGkA8-h2N8zKOy01P9BkHPYFLpTCmhxVdUiq0BnzieqDCvioVHYCw4xhicKv4QW_fh-JYhCj7hJQTdu-z9w/s320/IMG_20120628_101428.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Suede winter boots amongst shells and sand</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOI2yXsa-ABVcq4WDRpGK3TJUWdkEeOiDvnqgtHHgMUtsgzgPT-P2u9o3ihCynx4ZwdTDv7ItW7O8mIxSl4vEdjrFUzbLVcV_Kv6xa97s9A1qLxzMZI1XulaaJILtDNFbJGCJ7zxNXFo/s1600/black+boots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOI2yXsa-ABVcq4WDRpGK3TJUWdkEeOiDvnqgtHHgMUtsgzgPT-P2u9o3ihCynx4ZwdTDv7ItW7O8mIxSl4vEdjrFUzbLVcV_Kv6xa97s9A1qLxzMZI1XulaaJILtDNFbJGCJ7zxNXFo/s320/black+boots.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mQvaZGfGRb3p87Y-gWKjs_DBQBTlaSaEtEZot2NAGIcROXbFQuln0ekDP3-OcoO75HFD6iK9agwcTRDkkX8O__cNt4jHUAtBmy1HNj5FrcLIpnupKTXLYPN0-ezTa7g5iU6mwU4_a1A/s1600/IMG_20120628_102126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6mQvaZGfGRb3p87Y-gWKjs_DBQBTlaSaEtEZot2NAGIcROXbFQuln0ekDP3-OcoO75HFD6iK9agwcTRDkkX8O__cNt4jHUAtBmy1HNj5FrcLIpnupKTXLYPN0-ezTa7g5iU6mwU4_a1A/s320/IMG_20120628_102126.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I left my mark by the Sea, just as it had left its beautiful mark on me.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>When was the last time you had a spontaneous adventure?</i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="IBOT"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/images/ibot.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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I'm linking up with the gorgeous Jess from <a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" target="_blank">Diary of a SAHM</a> for 'I Blog On Tuesdays', yee-ha!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-2306552747273233292012-06-13T10:28:00.001+10:002012-06-13T10:29:10.165+10:00The Twin Thing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Best friends</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhQFluxXF6b04wFiGDBRHvHnxULRxsiH3O-gemSCoN3O7M07DtAZwPqtU8Tj36w-0ocvgNeDYKvI7D4JEvdJqHjLnu10SBDGQaE1pmse5kZZVgSWvMcw_mjvKhihexMdcjx1xLzwVlRc/s1600/IMG_20120427_093449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhQFluxXF6b04wFiGDBRHvHnxULRxsiH3O-gemSCoN3O7M07DtAZwPqtU8Tj36w-0ocvgNeDYKvI7D4JEvdJqHjLnu10SBDGQaE1pmse5kZZVgSWvMcw_mjvKhihexMdcjx1xLzwVlRc/s320/IMG_20120427_093449.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sharing a treat</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvckJNUP4h2T5_nOYof3qHsV2G-wwFDjUEhni2KMNSY4mLwbHUxkL6uA7uQFQhlPTGNrxWEuXfpIkAjQH0z1Ndb3Tp7_y-sqV22BMYeN8bM3-G1MhJf7Vmuq0oswRmZ1Re7F8_rxjoWY/s1600/IMG_20120613_095605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvckJNUP4h2T5_nOYof3qHsV2G-wwFDjUEhni2KMNSY4mLwbHUxkL6uA7uQFQhlPTGNrxWEuXfpIkAjQH0z1Ndb3Tp7_y-sqV22BMYeN8bM3-G1MhJf7Vmuq0oswRmZ1Re7F8_rxjoWY/s320/IMG_20120613_095605.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sharing a kiss</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8M1JoxF4Tw1fJkJTU1x0mPhZTUM6V8Ayp7aglRllm5pmsJq7BMsLUzDQ0GmPQtyvkBHFpylmaDJJGqspOrVwvsDNECH7398TqgyxGTUFcTGVf49B2lHfv2h1GmcB-Lx3oEcmD8WogHw/s1600/IMG_20120613_100234.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8M1JoxF4Tw1fJkJTU1x0mPhZTUM6V8Ayp7aglRllm5pmsJq7BMsLUzDQ0GmPQtyvkBHFpylmaDJJGqspOrVwvsDNECH7398TqgyxGTUFcTGVf49B2lHfv2h1GmcB-Lx3oEcmD8WogHw/s320/IMG_20120613_100234.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Always holding hands</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZikcp67DYHialmXlMh8dyw_kRoY0nilhy7Y0YJCHHo8A_gorf6gF2c6TFGEdOI2hC9JVEgwctJZdaIh72FGYXWxKGQrE1qX81t0GD086n8XcP1ngDsrPr6oyO2b_PnWwtwaJI6TmcV0/s1600/IMG_20120613_100016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZikcp67DYHialmXlMh8dyw_kRoY0nilhy7Y0YJCHHo8A_gorf6gF2c6TFGEdOI2hC9JVEgwctJZdaIh72FGYXWxKGQrE1qX81t0GD086n8XcP1ngDsrPr6oyO2b_PnWwtwaJI6TmcV0/s320/IMG_20120613_100016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sharing a Little Sister</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Even when they fight, they always work it out.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Twin Style.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV8_JGEh6zTEfoaZL1mUfktDMXbJtC-BORKEbi_UqpuRlDW1pLKN9tBKU2RrobmS6ogZoiwie3Ev3uYEEow3yg758wlKwJYWx0SMsedaT4zwB9cSDy3aIDwVcB2yO0x4LN_m5FKk0_q9s/s1600/IMG_20120519_202509%231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FZM3Mc9ZZH0Or4lFgZgM9Tt4ZvIg8UF6nL3ZfxqsJ9hPrOsF-pnMiyAJPq_5l6KuDeFVLW1EqDeuKf3Q32sRaX4ngBEdnARjO9E3IEjvqvTGfXFnOH3kGYwHoGaul8yRSiLuTwpUqxs/s1600/IMG_20120611_110159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FZM3Mc9ZZH0Or4lFgZgM9Tt4ZvIg8UF6nL3ZfxqsJ9hPrOsF-pnMiyAJPq_5l6KuDeFVLW1EqDeuKf3Q32sRaX4ngBEdnARjO9E3IEjvqvTGfXFnOH3kGYwHoGaul8yRSiLuTwpUqxs/s320/IMG_20120611_110159.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm linking up with the wonderful Trish of <a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">My Little Drummer Boys</a> for Wordless Wednesday.</div>
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<a href="http://mylittledrummerboys.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="My Little Drummer Boys" border="0" src="http://i1133.photobucket.com/albums/m581/blogsbysass/MLDB-Blog-Button-1.png" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-52841862924630603012012-06-10T16:50:00.000+10:002012-06-10T16:57:35.532+10:00Will the Real WhoaMamma Please Stand Up...There is a scene from Lewis Carroll's 'Alice in Wonderland' where Absolom the pipe-smoking caterpillar turns to the bewildered Alice and asks:<br />
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"<i>Whoooooooooooooooooo .... are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...</i>?"</div>
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Alice, in a state of confusion, replies:<br />
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"I knew who I was this morning, but I've changed several times since then."<br />
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Ah Alice, I know the feeling.<br />
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Sometimes I feel like I am a thousand souls leading a thousand lives.<br />
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Nothing and everything.<br />
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The product of hundreds and thousands of years of love-making from my ancestors. Their DNA weaving a tapestry in my veins. All these people in my blood-line came together and now... I am Here.<br />
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I am as ancient as the ruins in Athens yet I'm just beginning.<br />
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I am Mummy. A beacon and an example to my girls.<br />
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I am Agapi, the Wife. My love unconditional and my support unwavering.<br />
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I am Big Sister Jess who parents and guides my sweet, precious siblings.<br />
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A Daughter and Granddaughter of migrants who will carry on the legacies and family traditions.<br />
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A friend for Life.<br />
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A smile to let you know you make me happy.<br />
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A shoulder to cry on.<br />
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A hug of gratitude.<br />
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The first lips to kiss you good morning, the last lips to kiss you goodnight.<br />
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The girl who wants to dig for treasure.<br />
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The woman dressed in black that wants to paint the town (and her shoes, lips and nails) <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">red</span>.<br />
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I am equal parts kick-ass and demure.<br />
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I am a little bit o' this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR310lc0Df0WU08HhO_pazN-Q0ITCG-SbCzYg69azVAuFdd4rXZuL21N912-RWtvSGQwtkJIgESzbtFFysLbcB6QBRb4f0x-5akZPceEFTGbfgi7WNOhhJ75ZKFNJFZLYdHh_a7shAgzQ/s1600/tumblr_lhaqmuOvsO1qa70eyo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR310lc0Df0WU08HhO_pazN-Q0ITCG-SbCzYg69azVAuFdd4rXZuL21N912-RWtvSGQwtkJIgESzbtFFysLbcB6QBRb4f0x-5akZPceEFTGbfgi7WNOhhJ75ZKFNJFZLYdHh_a7shAgzQ/s320/tumblr_lhaqmuOvsO1qa70eyo1_500.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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With a dash of this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCXS3OzZNSf5cWvneUaMWrog5c3XFo3QiyTdXfLptxLyyfxo2W2WCKoqoQZDC5CKFgl-G5jb3R74tV9iSBNtnSm65H0oOpeiL7NBZtKke2Uy9xsKSrodOW5nTI2RNk7jMFsdPobzR_djc/s1600/nigela.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCXS3OzZNSf5cWvneUaMWrog5c3XFo3QiyTdXfLptxLyyfxo2W2WCKoqoQZDC5CKFgl-G5jb3R74tV9iSBNtnSm65H0oOpeiL7NBZtKke2Uy9xsKSrodOW5nTI2RNk7jMFsdPobzR_djc/s320/nigela.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
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and, maybe, just a hint of this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ69Hs1E3cxZBf8uRjAp6hmxnwgkcz0iiGQNRrha9k11FHDVWUub6kmZ-rBnqtOByHMmAFPj9nb-lnxjfwl1VzYs7zhIthrHltSqoZOLEipBjOl-bM2EFSrCmWLJQmNLEBbf2VIUscxyc/s1600/REVSEM250108-47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ69Hs1E3cxZBf8uRjAp6hmxnwgkcz0iiGQNRrha9k11FHDVWUub6kmZ-rBnqtOByHMmAFPj9nb-lnxjfwl1VzYs7zhIthrHltSqoZOLEipBjOl-bM2EFSrCmWLJQmNLEBbf2VIUscxyc/s1600/REVSEM250108-47.jpg" /></a></div>
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I want to glisten, yet I hide.<br />
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I like quiet yet I want to scream.<br />
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I'd like to laze in a hammock and sprint up a mountain.<br />
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I love to sing but close my mouth if there's an audience.<br />
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I am the People Pleaser and the Do-Gooder.<br />
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I Make Things Happen.<br />
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I am undying in my loyalty and my love has no bounds.<br />
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I am lazy like a cat but can be fierce as a lion.<br />
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Romantic daydreamer.<br />
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Kinky vixen.<br />
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Beware of the Quiet Ones.<br />
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I want to go crazy and dance.<br />
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I long for adventure but want to take them alone.<br />
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I'd offer you anything I have if you need it more.<br />
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I am a cherry in a bowl of bananas.<br />
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I'm a Keeper of Secrets and a bearer of Truths.<br />
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I come alive when inspired.<br />
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Sometimes my Spirit feels too grand for my body.<br />
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I'm the licker of cake-bowls and picker of flowers.<br />
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Child-like.<br />
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I will stare at rainbows till they disappear like ghosts in the golden sky.<br />
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I am a journey and I'm enjoying the ride.<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cc0000;">Who are You?</span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>I am linking up with my blog-crush <a href="http://www.edenriley.com/2012/06/who-hell-are-you.html" target="_blank">Edenland</a> as part of her Fresh Horses Brigade. Giddy-up!</i></span><br />
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<center><a href="http://www.edenriley.com/"><img alt="Edenland's Fresh Horses Brigade" src="http://lizosaurus.com/EdensFreshHorses.jpg" /></a></center><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-44978659986156306782012-05-16T10:43:00.000+10:002012-05-16T10:57:59.024+10:00The Day of the MammaThe Sunday that just passed was undoubtedly my best Mother's Day ever.<br />
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Nothing beats being showered in love and cuddles and the constant parade of lovingly handmade cards and gifts.</div>
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The twins had a Mother's Day fundraising stall at school where they purchased me $4 gifts.</div>
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Twin A bought me silverplated dessert spoons with tiny seashells on the end. She couldn't wait till Sunday to present them to me, so she ripped open the packet and promptly christened a tub of chocolate yoghurt with one of the lucky spoons.</div>
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Twin B surprised me with a boxed set of makeup. The turquoise eyeshadow and hot pink lip gloss will come in handy when I dress up as a Fairy Queen this weekend for Katrushki's birthday.</div>
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Katrushki made me a lovely artwork with her handprint and more gold glitter than a Lady Gaga concert.</div>
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Darling Mr WhoaMamma surprised me with a beautiful bunch of flowers that beautify my kitchen as well as my soul.</div>
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We took my mother, grandmother, aunt and cousins for a family lunch at a favourite Greek restaurant.</div>
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Red wine + seafood = One Very Happy Whoa Mamma!</div>
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It was great not to worry about washing, cleaning and cooking for a day.</div>
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My real joy came from just BEING with my loved ones. No other distractions or duties.</div>
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They had my total attention, and I had theirs.</div>
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The next day, it was back to reality.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPM-OzY0pC0LcXnw7NSCAS0Gj-SzlN_lmOIaApFfA2weZ9WcXv765KaDdjdMai30NpYzOie1MZVIrlxklojWmqyVNLm2vKBe5AYRCQQKPLPYbawDf3hp63N1J_fwYi3zgF0LX_1flgcp4/s1600/IMG_20120514_124346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPM-OzY0pC0LcXnw7NSCAS0Gj-SzlN_lmOIaApFfA2weZ9WcXv765KaDdjdMai30NpYzOie1MZVIrlxklojWmqyVNLm2vKBe5AYRCQQKPLPYbawDf3hp63N1J_fwYi3zgF0LX_1flgcp4/s320/IMG_20120514_124346.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But the strength to carry on came from this beautiful card from Twin B:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1_4bKql05FgPbi3AzQNRPXhs4oMbvUITa9Z5UZSZGGrR8kf4Hm420oYYQXyGpRB2olxnaR45wmQ-hPTV2HUka4EJGC1K_66yG2pubgqRzDfT8__MkXDCpwhbMaZ6FT0W9XxmEx15aVw/s1600/IMG_20120515_173324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr1_4bKql05FgPbi3AzQNRPXhs4oMbvUITa9Z5UZSZGGrR8kf4Hm420oYYQXyGpRB2olxnaR45wmQ-hPTV2HUka4EJGC1K_66yG2pubgqRzDfT8__MkXDCpwhbMaZ6FT0W9XxmEx15aVw/s320/IMG_20120515_173324.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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"Dear Mummy,</div>
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I love you because I love you,</div>
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and that is why I love you."</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Love doesn't need a reason.</b></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfqfLr7QYXSWb117-_txKlkYWMSbJj22ornExF5e7tL2Qo9mht47clybgbIB2VbmtjKDcwkxSN41JJusiprJIUS-k2gY5vWjFJv8Uf4xF6OJCZv94ixX5iyEHmqC1RuQk-venwxkm83s/s1600/Happy+Mother's+Day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIfqfLr7QYXSWb117-_txKlkYWMSbJj22ornExF5e7tL2Qo9mht47clybgbIB2VbmtjKDcwkxSN41JJusiprJIUS-k2gY5vWjFJv8Uf4xF6OJCZv94ixX5iyEHmqC1RuQk-venwxkm83s/s320/Happy+Mother's+Day.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-85748756679351261252012-05-15T13:37:00.000+10:002012-05-15T14:49:17.553+10:00The One About Elvis's Side-Burns<br />
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<br />
It was 1987.<br />
I had just turned 11.<br />
It was Saturday night and my siblings and I were eager to watch a kid's movie.<br />
But not tonight.<br />
Dad had dibs on the television.<br />
He grabbed a blank video cassette (remember them?), unwrapped it from its plastic and excitedly fed it into the mouth of the VCR.<br />
He was like an excited little boy.<br />
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"But <i>Da-ad, </i>we <i>really</i> want to watch the movie!" moaned my sister. But it was of no use.<br />
We were no match for Elvis.<br />
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It was the 10th anniversary of Elvis's death and all the TV channels were in Elvis over-drive.<br />
There was no escaping it.<br />
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I knew who Elvis was. My father was a big fan and had a large Elvis music and book collection.<br />
I'd seen a few of his cheesy films that played on the weekend tv matinees. He could sing. He could dance. Women would throw him their underpants.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwunBTVQGCim-xuEabhoW2nJWE8TvXr3EiwJFxcydI7n8RF8ehptbVacK1CY95WJi99O1UgArO3bOP1p_poZkvd2n_4NKq1TpLYbdE6OQXuYY_QFFbLW-qiw81xLr0bp9ya1C27LGqxY/s1600/280802_1020_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwunBTVQGCim-xuEabhoW2nJWE8TvXr3EiwJFxcydI7n8RF8ehptbVacK1CY95WJi99O1UgArO3bOP1p_poZkvd2n_4NKq1TpLYbdE6OQXuYY_QFFbLW-qiw81xLr0bp9ya1C27LGqxY/s400/280802_1020_a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
"Oooo.. it's starting!" exclaimed my excited father.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Click. Record.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Ladies and Gentlemen.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Elvis: The 1968 Comeback Special.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh, my.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Have you </b><i><b>seen</b></i><b> it?</b></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Forget about the 1950's coiffed pretty-boy Elvis,</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKectfRTUI-wI5PqIQFNBZGhJV1xn8VfsBMPE-RtqImBI-8KHb_Piwp9tvA4dSloSTeWmnOYgCHavZS50YiIZ_Hx2i8UtCCIeMYqlXkb4PvgtLQnpMJn8nQG2H7y1mvIOUYKDEpTL4bAE/s1600/992629_640px.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKectfRTUI-wI5PqIQFNBZGhJV1xn8VfsBMPE-RtqImBI-8KHb_Piwp9tvA4dSloSTeWmnOYgCHavZS50YiIZ_Hx2i8UtCCIeMYqlXkb4PvgtLQnpMJn8nQG2H7y1mvIOUYKDEpTL4bAE/s400/992629_640px.jpg" width="301" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
or the1970's puffy, bloated rhinestoned-bedazzled caped jumpsuited Elvis.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah8da4yoSMXCXeIWncCqVMx300W03j9WR8fzPF6qgwuDuzvLUKgP9J3hYHJtRwD8JnEhQBaMW0wb-zh4KvdgYQ08QYHwRWKdNbFtoWMfcY_j8sck6zLHlK8sBaMUSfD7rypC_btoR6fI/s1600/07-elvis-presley-081407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah8da4yoSMXCXeIWncCqVMx300W03j9WR8fzPF6qgwuDuzvLUKgP9J3hYHJtRwD8JnEhQBaMW0wb-zh4KvdgYQ08QYHwRWKdNbFtoWMfcY_j8sck6zLHlK8sBaMUSfD7rypC_btoR6fI/s400/07-elvis-presley-081407.jpg" width="272" /></a></div>
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<br />
The Elvis that shakes my pelvis is the 1968 model with tight black leather suit, leather cuff, jet black hair and slick sideburns you just want to run your fingers over.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7O0_mv_zfLiqS5fpcFnJwRRav-Gz5jdnxmlzAA7-0jlZVPC8fkyLIY4YllvZdtW5VEFGi9stWccu5iTxVPaMb7NOXh1WgihAba04hBqKPN_M0ZeW2BjgZyG1OO4rb4cwlgohDgJAzC5U/s1600/i97275742_11074_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7O0_mv_zfLiqS5fpcFnJwRRav-Gz5jdnxmlzAA7-0jlZVPC8fkyLIY4YllvZdtW5VEFGi9stWccu5iTxVPaMb7NOXh1WgihAba04hBqKPN_M0ZeW2BjgZyG1OO4rb4cwlgohDgJAzC5U/s320/i97275742_11074_7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The voice. Swoon.</div>
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The moves. Swoon.</div>
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The curled-lip smile. Swoon heaven!</div>
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Hello? Black leather?</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW2n4n67LBhdLSJNrz_zH6WKooIUNyAvnP6Ub64beBOdqWfcC064MLPTf925K56uZM-wksK1S-HI04i0jIviYbniLySylgo5vMsqe5guK56qu0ZTv-pd6IZtK4O7W5pvd6x1Bgjsf2mU/s1600/Elvis+%252768+Comback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW2n4n67LBhdLSJNrz_zH6WKooIUNyAvnP6Ub64beBOdqWfcC064MLPTf925K56uZM-wksK1S-HI04i0jIviYbniLySylgo5vMsqe5guK56qu0ZTv-pd6IZtK4O7W5pvd6x1Bgjsf2mU/s320/Elvis+%252768+Comback.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi33dnlovOGGGMErGxRDwfU4TnTEXpPhJPqS15Ov5CzfX0Zrci5LT6Pz5kqTJkx5TI0mmJpGKGJ9iuYF1-WRG3908f3LlO5uouQosQGv7ael9e7r_gLYV_8hNjUL2VWPtx79-OauWAik/s1600/Elvis68NBC4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi33dnlovOGGGMErGxRDwfU4TnTEXpPhJPqS15Ov5CzfX0Zrci5LT6Pz5kqTJkx5TI0mmJpGKGJ9iuYF1-WRG3908f3LlO5uouQosQGv7ael9e7r_gLYV_8hNjUL2VWPtx79-OauWAik/s320/Elvis68NBC4.JPG" width="261" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikj_UebqKcmiqfzh8uUI_sb2QiDcr0iPY85ZSEEinD0tYUceCvG10lOrC8DGvKnWVZR9Atpum6NxLbJTmw9zoFSrRAwBXQdPmC3TX7AAXu8_qE7GxTeQZsCEN6tJA-TZ6eZrVPofRUFdY/s1600/68special25.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikj_UebqKcmiqfzh8uUI_sb2QiDcr0iPY85ZSEEinD0tYUceCvG10lOrC8DGvKnWVZR9Atpum6NxLbJTmw9zoFSrRAwBXQdPmC3TX7AAXu8_qE7GxTeQZsCEN6tJA-TZ6eZrVPofRUFdY/s320/68special25.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Life changed for me that day.<br />
Hormones kicked in and that was the beginning of me changing from an innocent girl into the black-leather-loving woman I am today.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/tthEpLS69fo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Have you lived the Elvis '68 Comeback Special experience?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>Do you like Elvis?</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
I'm linking up with the fabulous Jess from <a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" target="_blank">Diary of a SAHM</a> for 'I Blog On Tuesdays!'<br />
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<br /></div>
<a href="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/" title="IBOT"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.diaryofasahm.net/images/ibot.jpg" width="150" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-42829250964448255432012-05-04T13:24:00.001+10:002012-06-14T12:17:55.472+10:00My Best and Worst Mothering Moments: brought to you by Facebook<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNMzp3yUQdzZCxWuUdWKLOO1sy14qHWHL9R_cD07DOZmMZ8PyFMFYVo2opCEWmMO2K_8f9ZRRtfikclHCGdjjBcAAtkG-JOMUIvYrdQ6wmxs4xYmy76oSiXRsQn6Fh3DoGJi9GToS1II/s1600/318226_10150933901609505_20895479504_11683166_1361018047_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMNMzp3yUQdzZCxWuUdWKLOO1sy14qHWHL9R_cD07DOZmMZ8PyFMFYVo2opCEWmMO2K_8f9ZRRtfikclHCGdjjBcAAtkG-JOMUIvYrdQ6wmxs4xYmy76oSiXRsQn6Fh3DoGJi9GToS1II/s400/318226_10150933901609505_20895479504_11683166_1361018047_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<u>The Year: 2008</u><br />
<br />
I walked into the room and saw my little sister tapping away at her laptop.<br />
"What are you doing? We're going to be late!" I screeched. We were heading out for a shopping day. Hubby was going to look after the babies. I was desperate for a latte and I had the Urge to Splurge.<br />
"Just a minute. I'm writing on Nat's wall and we'll go."<br />
"Her 'wall'? What? Are you demented? What is that?"<br />
"It's called Facebook. We write each other messages".<br />
"What messages? Didn't you just get off the phone with her? Why don't you just speak like normal people? What a load of sh........."<br />
<br />
Fastward 1 year later.<br />
<br />
<u>The Year: 2009</u><br />
<br />
Mamma with a new laptop.<br />
Apple MacBook. Swoon.<br />
Little sister in Barcelona. Husband's family all in Greece.<br />
Husband at work all day. Mamma home alone with three energetic toddlers.<br />
Cut off from civilization.<br />
Lonely.<br />
Need an escape.<br />
Open Facebook account.<br />
My justification is it's a means to communicate with my sister and I could upload and share lots photos of the kidlets for all relatives overseas to delight in.<br />
<br />
And so, it begins...<br />
<br />
Farmville, Vampire Wars, cyber cocktails, waking up at 6am to harvest cyber cornfields, slaying virtual vampires, winning tokens, reconnecting with primary school/high school/university/work friends (and strangers).<br />
<br />
Facebook.<br />
You had me at 'Log In'.<br />
<br />
I was hooked. The babies would crawl about my feet, sucking on toys, shoes, remote controls and I'd be tap, tap, tapping. Click, click, clicking. Scroll, scroll, scrolling. Hours of 'refresh feed'. The Wiggles dvd's would be on repeat to entertain my babies. 'Hot Potato' and 'Toot-Toot-Chugga-Chugga Big Red Car' were the soundtrack to my cyber-addiction.<br />
<br />
Before my husband would return home late at night, I'd delete the history on my laptop. I didn't want him to see just how much time I was spending on the computer. The fact that the house was always in disarray wasn't a giveaway?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMIdstmgni0JoCBv57q5bUlGp33ze3JkbBHuBPiXGZvfhr8ZvQGOGLk0Gyc2wYyrfRTjtFNrvS1MGKZgkDDpwKgzX8OHAxpNy-g-j6sdhijUw-UwUaPlNJaoHO5JsmhAwdAW7SADPzxw/s1600/1331152914819_1172574.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMIdstmgni0JoCBv57q5bUlGp33ze3JkbBHuBPiXGZvfhr8ZvQGOGLk0Gyc2wYyrfRTjtFNrvS1MGKZgkDDpwKgzX8OHAxpNy-g-j6sdhijUw-UwUaPlNJaoHO5JsmhAwdAW7SADPzxw/s400/1331152914819_1172574.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
<u>My Worst Mothering Moment.</u><br />
<u><br /></u><br />
I was toilet training the twins. They were watching The Wiggles (again) and I was having a 'Gwyneth-Paltrow-in-Sliding-Doors' moment, <s>stalking</s> looking at Facebook photos of an ex-paramour and his new family,and pondering what life may have been like if Fate had taken me in a different direction. (By the way, Fate & Instinct could not have been kinder to me, so grateful for the life and precious family that I have).<br />
"Mummy", called out Twin A, "mummy, wee-wee coming".<br />
"Ok, sweetie. Mummy's coming". Tap, tap. Click, click.<br />
"Mummy. Toilet mummy. Wee-wee".<br />
"Yes, darling. Just a minute. Mummy's coming". Click, scroll, refresh.<br />
"Muuuuuuummmmmmmmyyyyyyy!!!!!"<br />
"YES!!!! I'M COOOOOOOOMINGGGGG!!!" Click. Click.<br />
I enter the lounge room and find little Twin A watching The Wiggles and standing in a giant puddle of wee.<br />
"Sorry, Mummy. Wee-wee came".<br />
I had never felt so sick or repulsed in all my life. Bad Mother. Worst Mother in the World. Selfish, deluded Mother.<br />
I picked her up and squeezed her.<br />
"Mummy's sorry. Mummy's so very sorry, for everything."<br />
I cleaned her up and scooped up the rest of the girls. I spent the rest of the day hugging and kissing them, reading to them, playing with them, singing to them, inhaling their scent, tickling them just so that I could hear their joyous laugh.<br />
<br />
I had hit rock bottom as a mamma but it was the wake up call I needed.<br />
<br />
What was the allure of Facebook?<br />
<br />
A sense of connection? A sense of friendship and camaraderie? A sense of belonging? Feeling that I hadn't been forgotten? I was so caught up in sharing moments in other people's lives, I was forgetting to create my own.<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Best Mothering Moments</u><br />
<u><br /></u><br />
Believe it or not, Facebook has helped me become a better mother.<br />
Through blogging and Facebook I have discovered so many wonderful, supportive groups and communities that have connected me with other fabulous mothers who tread the tricky, yet terrific, yellowbrick road of Motherhood. These life-enhancing sites include <a href="http://www.kidspot.com.au/" target="_blank">Kidspot</a>, <a href="http://www.mumslounge.com.au/" target="_blank">Mums Lounge</a>, <a href="http://justbaustralia.com.au/" target="_blank">JustB</a>, <a href="http://www.circleofmoms.com/" target="_blank">Circle of Moms</a>, <a href="http://mamabake.com/" target="_blank">MamaBake</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MumsHelpingMumsPND" target="_blank">Mums Helping Mums Network</a>, <a href="http://www.lovelyliving.com.au/" target="_blank">Lovely Living</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Theimperfectmum" target="_blank">The Imperfect Mum</a>, <a href="http://theorganisedhousewife.com.au/" target="_blank">The Organised Housewife</a>, <a href="http://www.stayathomemum.net.au/" target="_blank">Stay At Home Mum</a> and <a href="http://planningwithkids.com/" target="_blank">Planning With Kids</a>, just to name a fabulous few.<br />
<br />
And don't get me started on all the fabulous Mamma's who blog.<br />
Saved. My. Sanity.<br />
<br />
Motherhood can be hard. It can be lonely. Many of us constantly question if we are doing the right things by our kids. Many of us feel isolated. Many of us need help but don't feel comfortable asking for it. These pages and forums are a great way to connect, share, find information and ask questions.<br />
<br />
Two ladies that have phenomenally impacted my life as a woman and mother (more than they'll ever know) are Kirri White from <a href="http://happymumsathome.com/" target="_blank">Happy Mums at Home</a> and Nathalie Brown from <a href="http://www.easypeasykids.com.au/" target="_blank">Easy Peasy Kids</a>. Their consistently positive messages have made me a happier woman and a more vibrant, engaging, joyous mother to my kids. I guarantee they have the means of turning your darkest day into sparkling, shimmering brightness.<br />
<br />
Although I'm still engaging with social media (blogging/Facebook/Pinterest/Twitter/Instagram anyone?), I look for experiences that enhance my life in a positive way through inspiration, motivation (and a little humour!) ;)<br />
<br />
And when my kids call out to me and say "Mummy, you know, we're more important than the computer", they're absolutely right. Time to switch off and turn the Mamma Lovin' up high.<br />
<br />
Are you a social media addict? Has the internet impacted your role as a Mother?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-77015077857585714652012-04-25T20:56:00.000+10:002012-04-25T20:56:51.680+10:00And the Winner is.....Thank you so much to everyone that entered my <a href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com.au/2012/04/giving-my-love-away-whoa-mammas-bloggy.html" target="_blank">Whoa, Mamma! 'Happy 1st Bloggy Birthday Giveaway'</a>. It was so heartwarming to read all your beautiful entries about 'What Gives You That Lovin' Feeling'.<br />
<br />
Cuddles, kisses, smelling your children's hair, feeling your baby grow in your tummy, seeing your kids play with their father, hearing their first words, singing on stage, random love notes, hearing the words 'I Love You', all these things and more fill up our love tanks.<br />
<br />
To celebrate my first year blogging at Whoa, Mamma! I had a special 'Love' necklace to give away.<br />
The names of the entrants were put in a fairy jewellery box, blessed by my Little Katrushki's fairy wand, shaken about then one name was picked out by Little Miss A.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw5XLd0bDXiMe5JOnNEm1Ok3IDull7wn9X-lP3kK2WFQ8J0wKHQOedujVQycP-UOamnUaRBZMZK-DgZyuROHnHWkXEeW6skdjXcRiwzHupJOe6QRqi66Wyhp4nh7Xtm6PfRwJaOlz-18/s1600/IMG_20120421_133514_Anne_Stop_Clean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw5XLd0bDXiMe5JOnNEm1Ok3IDull7wn9X-lP3kK2WFQ8J0wKHQOedujVQycP-UOamnUaRBZMZK-DgZyuROHnHWkXEeW6skdjXcRiwzHupJOe6QRqi66Wyhp4nh7Xtm6PfRwJaOlz-18/s320/IMG_20120421_133514_Anne_Stop_Clean.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Without further a-do, the winner is....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12R-juXNdASuz1ozWmxkqfuEPbdXAB9NeZJmCfHPi7Kf6MjlXunrWig2UfkJ1BXRx-OeYN91obngVydGJlA8lvM0iV8iOaPgnxLB2K93sgGVsvCRJPnQ5MOB1ljrDa9QEdQQnSvnbChs/s1600/WhoaMammaWinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12R-juXNdASuz1ozWmxkqfuEPbdXAB9NeZJmCfHPi7Kf6MjlXunrWig2UfkJ1BXRx-OeYN91obngVydGJlA8lvM0iV8iOaPgnxLB2K93sgGVsvCRJPnQ5MOB1ljrDa9QEdQQnSvnbChs/s640/WhoaMammaWinner.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Congratulations, Carmel!</div>
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Thanks again to all you beautiful souls who entered!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">♥</span></span> <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Jess</span></b></i></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-65204227381816447542012-04-21T15:45:00.001+10:002012-04-21T15:47:18.940+10:00Giving My 'Love' Away!: {Whoa, Mamma's Bloggy Birthday Giveaway}I believe in Love and I try and emulate it in every aspect of my life.<br />
Love makes me Happy.<br />
I love the man I've been married to for 8 years.<br />
I love the 3 cheeky human beings we created.<br />
I love my friends, my family, my home.<br />
I love life.<br />
I love just Being.<br />
<br />
There was a time, a year ago, when I wasn't so happy.<br />
My happiness blossomed when I had an epiphany.<br />
I was loving everyone else, but not myself.<br />
As soon as I started listening to all the wishes deep within my heart that<br />
I had buried for so long, especially since becoming a wife and mother,<br />
I felt more joy.<br />
<br />
One of my greatest joys came from writing.<br />
Ever since I was a little girl I would write in journals and diaries.<br />
This stopped once I became a mother.<br />
But it was like I was holding my breath for the last 6 years.<br />
I had reached my last gasp.<br />
Instead of drowning, I decided to come up for air.<br />
And I began a blog.<br />
I was writing for me.<br />
And I could breathe again.<br />
Life is flourishing.<br />
<br />
I wanted to do a little giveaway to celebrate 1 year of 'Whoa, Mamma' fabulousness.<br />
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This is more symbolic than anything, a little gesture of love and gratitude from me to you.</div>
It is you, sweet readers, that have made this blog so fabulous for me, and I want to thank you with all my heart for all your love and support.<br />
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I was in one of my favourite local swoonworthy stores yesterday (<a href="http://www.room296.com.au/room296_Interiors_/The_Shop_.html" target="_blank">room 296</a>), when my eyes fell on this little beauty. It was perfect for what I wanted to give back to you.<br />
<br />
A little bit of Love.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13DxPop_FaMzbGBop6_iEoT2kR8AhZNmkQwwy4J5_gweoY-khjy7vD_dIS0vCNadTdmBqIyh0wcKtS3b2hsLvtYvX7NLtk_aX4OqoSWK3-lmCRFRKNLlyp_8ZJCCqUEm0zUJDur8mQM4/s1600/IMG_20120421_142032_Anne_Vignette_Clean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj13DxPop_FaMzbGBop6_iEoT2kR8AhZNmkQwwy4J5_gweoY-khjy7vD_dIS0vCNadTdmBqIyh0wcKtS3b2hsLvtYvX7NLtk_aX4OqoSWK3-lmCRFRKNLlyp_8ZJCCqUEm0zUJDur8mQM4/s640/IMG_20120421_142032_Anne_Vignette_Clean.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Love' amidst the pretty blooms from my garden x</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw5XLd0bDXiMe5JOnNEm1Ok3IDull7wn9X-lP3kK2WFQ8J0wKHQOedujVQycP-UOamnUaRBZMZK-DgZyuROHnHWkXEeW6skdjXcRiwzHupJOe6QRqi66Wyhp4nh7Xtm6PfRwJaOlz-18/s1600/IMG_20120421_133514_Anne_Stop_Clean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgw5XLd0bDXiMe5JOnNEm1Ok3IDull7wn9X-lP3kK2WFQ8J0wKHQOedujVQycP-UOamnUaRBZMZK-DgZyuROHnHWkXEeW6skdjXcRiwzHupJOe6QRqi66Wyhp4nh7Xtm6PfRwJaOlz-18/s400/IMG_20120421_133514_Anne_Stop_Clean.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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So, up for grabs for 1 lucky reader is this sweet gold-toned 'LOVE' necklace.<br />
It's 40 cm long and can be worn close to the neck, or wrapped around your wrist as a lovely bracelet.<br />
<br />
All you have to do to enter is leave a comment at the end of this blogpost, answering this question:<br />
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<b>"What gives you that Lovin' feeling?"</b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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Entry is open to all followers of my 'Whoa, Mamma!' blog and/or likers of 'Whoa, Mamma!' on <a href="http://facebook.com/whoa.mamma.jess" target="_blank">Facebook</a>. Please include an email address so that I can contact you should you be the winner. Entries close Wednesday 25 April, 2012 at Wine o'clock (5pm Melbourne, Australia time) and will be drawn randomly by one of my cheeky chicas by pulling a name out of their Fairy Princess Pink Glittery Jewellery Box.</div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Good Luck!</span></span></b></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-18589014284019714082012-04-18T16:34:00.000+10:002012-04-18T16:52:24.899+10:00For the Love of Instagram<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today I am linking up with <a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/" target="_blank">5 Minutes for Mom</a>'s Ultimate Blog Party (Almost) <a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/54549/wordless-wednesday-celebrating-the-ultimate-blog-party-2012/" target="_blank">Wordless Wednesday</a> (phew! what a mouthful!).</div>
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This (almost) Wordless Wednesday is dedicated to my new found obsession, <a href="http://instagr.am/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>, a fabulously funky photography application for mobile phones. </div>
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I've turned into a snap-happy mamma and I'm seeing my gorgeous girls in a new light, all the while creating, and conserving, some fabulous memories.</div>
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Are you on Instagram?</div>
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Do you love taking photographs?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0rQPuCGBOPyyIYlPxFpaUR_6O8fLvvACRh4iIwbHp3VPwW2gBuDyvBWIatU4OyL3iUQZE9GiIQmB682Ziy9MDAuBgxLwV6jmZ-UyH-GfQfc0jqXgdgrYP_Ha7OK3RSG6n-HvgOCaZ4g/s1600/IMG_20120410_124629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP0rQPuCGBOPyyIYlPxFpaUR_6O8fLvvACRh4iIwbHp3VPwW2gBuDyvBWIatU4OyL3iUQZE9GiIQmB682Ziy9MDAuBgxLwV6jmZ-UyH-GfQfc0jqXgdgrYP_Ha7OK3RSG6n-HvgOCaZ4g/s320/IMG_20120410_124629.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mamma tries to get all 'artsy'</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhAsNMyQ8Gr8XLnrs0vGQpS9XwlWIzaSM-94dzFm2aKcalOCpMoEffYV4H5QseatKdAFvRDCCNLFUUP-wpadaWYF1rPC6n_IoqMO13a2ur6HJJu78JoT8mdlJJeI37jn52qNZFCZZ6xU/s1600/IMG_20120410_132334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPhAsNMyQ8Gr8XLnrs0vGQpS9XwlWIzaSM-94dzFm2aKcalOCpMoEffYV4H5QseatKdAFvRDCCNLFUUP-wpadaWYF1rPC6n_IoqMO13a2ur6HJJu78JoT8mdlJJeI37jn52qNZFCZZ6xU/s320/IMG_20120410_132334.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Distracted by graffiti on our way to get milk</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NHNyKQ84OCo9eGwEt7YM52ZZIsaIlFwwpUMaw7pzw3vrj8J2903hTn9QOVI4180is_vUFb9YDs7gAtcPm1Dlrlk2x4pCWlF_96VPJStXkYhbxQC6YOXJLCgkZwdz5PzoBs9TCZhF3W8/s1600/IMG_20120410_191038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1NHNyKQ84OCo9eGwEt7YM52ZZIsaIlFwwpUMaw7pzw3vrj8J2903hTn9QOVI4180is_vUFb9YDs7gAtcPm1Dlrlk2x4pCWlF_96VPJStXkYhbxQC6YOXJLCgkZwdz5PzoBs9TCZhF3W8/s320/IMG_20120410_191038.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twirly dancing in the kitchen</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVzlxlDJIab5u2DQuENRFC7A7IV84ssXrd8z2QB6t5bLzZVG5Il9ZnygRNUh9lwlSN7uhbDsEGU86yYVFGirlKCo4kjYu81beWXWXK-7ATWvchb7fau7vIPUB7w-22K1nj2zKDfMpE5cc/s1600/IMG_20120410_191242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVzlxlDJIab5u2DQuENRFC7A7IV84ssXrd8z2QB6t5bLzZVG5Il9ZnygRNUh9lwlSN7uhbDsEGU86yYVFGirlKCo4kjYu81beWXWXK-7ATWvchb7fau7vIPUB7w-22K1nj2zKDfMpE5cc/s320/IMG_20120410_191242.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Her Daddy's eyes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsaBjkjxo8tcMKvU8Wj-ZC8tuxjyjyAYGWZydpastNGgMZd1RNil2LzFDY_K_8YddCl930X9hnpcQgg2chhQFX9rsuOgVa8onYnRkJBEdHCsX-dty8Igcm4nxS7rxAv7NCc3lz769Lp0/s1600/IMG_20120410_191713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsaBjkjxo8tcMKvU8Wj-ZC8tuxjyjyAYGWZydpastNGgMZd1RNil2LzFDY_K_8YddCl930X9hnpcQgg2chhQFX9rsuOgVa8onYnRkJBEdHCsX-dty8Igcm4nxS7rxAv7NCc3lz769Lp0/s320/IMG_20120410_191713.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swinging the day away</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9y4QbsRjCFKXqr7xylJGFpIUncWlnePFYjgM_Aa_K3EQQFdnDzCG_0TleqNIDHWGlbrEmardJiPJi9zoSw8ANmIDNpyhYe3z0Sa7wagBtWCzcdbhMudyUfNWSTO2OWVMCKSjdh_TeBw/s1600/IMG_20120410_215359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho9y4QbsRjCFKXqr7xylJGFpIUncWlnePFYjgM_Aa_K3EQQFdnDzCG_0TleqNIDHWGlbrEmardJiPJi9zoSw8ANmIDNpyhYe3z0Sa7wagBtWCzcdbhMudyUfNWSTO2OWVMCKSjdh_TeBw/s320/IMG_20120410_215359.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lazy day in the park</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopw_T0mTCoqz0Be1VqTkrgxOIfEKe_hVKpxbr2m3jjvGLud2V7XLye0dyWxx87sksPn57ZfcirMPICZirn6uGmo-kDdsuS0RsWuHThUEKTBCirwYRJv_jixuEuDNKXUfur7oWo5hPVCs/s1600/IMG_20120411_184703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopw_T0mTCoqz0Be1VqTkrgxOIfEKe_hVKpxbr2m3jjvGLud2V7XLye0dyWxx87sksPn57ZfcirMPICZirn6uGmo-kDdsuS0RsWuHThUEKTBCirwYRJv_jixuEuDNKXUfur7oWo5hPVCs/s320/IMG_20120411_184703.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for dinner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQsTXZynxGVoJXUBOToX9dUCto2KEnDCBcbmXRTtvToOTCRg0zv461DaIXOMKvF8ogmHuAFe_vwAr0aLn1XzXb1hB4jubLWnq3xfL6xdof9us2_XXmb-PEPcAK7M-J4HvXOplE_teay4/s1600/IMG_20120413_010213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQsTXZynxGVoJXUBOToX9dUCto2KEnDCBcbmXRTtvToOTCRg0zv461DaIXOMKvF8ogmHuAFe_vwAr0aLn1XzXb1hB4jubLWnq3xfL6xdof9us2_XXmb-PEPcAK7M-J4HvXOplE_teay4/s320/IMG_20120413_010213.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and my little shadow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNfDnebsjTGsSDyXA-ZLVq0eBwf3zLFAfNTABW7CWqcEGVgcXePbw6EipsYY4SXiFTc4M28RRRp0dYjvvtg4KpbmSO03R7aWxb_wxQgU-tt5y-WhUCzDwk0s5tYsFIjfRL7uHVnTxFIw/s1600/IMG_20120413_010421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNfDnebsjTGsSDyXA-ZLVq0eBwf3zLFAfNTABW7CWqcEGVgcXePbw6EipsYY4SXiFTc4M28RRRp0dYjvvtg4KpbmSO03R7aWxb_wxQgU-tt5y-WhUCzDwk0s5tYsFIjfRL7uHVnTxFIw/s320/IMG_20120413_010421.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holding Mamma's hand</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifznpgC1k9BbmLaT3i6bACkwdCXCT2ISuc1fIH8cJLouSlmGLIs2qibE6-LYLG6728-khNt8RJKMtqeCFXc79X-enfG8ip_wNJd5zWkl_WoFrpgZjfqXDc6GYGcwPspK_kQ-7-UhJ66AM/s1600/IMG_20120413_103031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifznpgC1k9BbmLaT3i6bACkwdCXCT2ISuc1fIH8cJLouSlmGLIs2qibE6-LYLG6728-khNt8RJKMtqeCFXc79X-enfG8ip_wNJd5zWkl_WoFrpgZjfqXDc6GYGcwPspK_kQ-7-UhJ66AM/s320/IMG_20120413_103031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making bunny ears</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrGYo01MEXrEgEkgwzGtXe8kvbDH7AwgnlucvxZtVdaxw7FEyExoSuwBiJNfWfJoEt6rgy3ywvRCI8Tm_SrFHLvV7lnT7U5tm7ZFvJxIa3cgKV14dd7VMcSAaNR1_GpzmF25_-zAHCjQ/s1600/IMG_20120413_103327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrGYo01MEXrEgEkgwzGtXe8kvbDH7AwgnlucvxZtVdaxw7FEyExoSuwBiJNfWfJoEt6rgy3ywvRCI8Tm_SrFHLvV7lnT7U5tm7ZFvJxIa3cgKV14dd7VMcSAaNR1_GpzmF25_-zAHCjQ/s320/IMG_20120413_103327.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking to kindergarten</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UL4_0hvxm1WOtR0RLvAsyKsIxGibDk-C4lxv3VmnM8Ex05l7-bnfd3auqrl7_VHbclLWP0Dzu1mzoCi5FRJ79mXdGKrTMCd4Zb4smsstK30pHXnA5xC49_zd-C-X-klnBc1Ekg8gZBw/s1600/IMG_20120413_205750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6UL4_0hvxm1WOtR0RLvAsyKsIxGibDk-C4lxv3VmnM8Ex05l7-bnfd3auqrl7_VHbclLWP0Dzu1mzoCi5FRJ79mXdGKrTMCd4Zb4smsstK30pHXnA5xC49_zd-C-X-klnBc1Ekg8gZBw/s320/IMG_20120413_205750.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baking Greek Easter bread</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mP90lpdlV2aadVwPNx7uXQ7uXXnKdNqv4mVP1ngAhzd-4MDszHjns5zbBbbMpQ3zrLJeQtediluW54he_Sr8nUtzQgyEYEK6PuQUZFwa8yDJ2ID4M9p19U4Aspk1FPvWHssxhQJ5urw/s1600/IMG_20120414_144649.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5mP90lpdlV2aadVwPNx7uXQ7uXXnKdNqv4mVP1ngAhzd-4MDszHjns5zbBbbMpQ3zrLJeQtediluW54he_Sr8nUtzQgyEYEK6PuQUZFwa8yDJ2ID4M9p19U4Aspk1FPvWHssxhQJ5urw/s320/IMG_20120414_144649.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making Greek Easter cookies</td></tr>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8102649958611854796.post-87348040430407963192012-04-14T14:23:00.000+10:002012-04-17T09:51:57.029+10:00Happy 1st Blogaversary to Me!A momentous day.<br />
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One year exactly since I sat down at this laptop and published my first blog post here in Whoa, Mamma Land. An anniversary I share with the sinking of the Titanic, which is quite fitting really.<br />
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One year ago today I was sinking. Happy on the outside but drowning, wallowing deep inside. Emotionally I'd hit rock bottom. I was a stay-at-home mamma, devoted to my 3 darling kids and my darling Mr WhoaMamma, full of love, but still empty inside.<br />
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I had forgotten to devote some of that awesome Mamma-lovin' to My Self.<br />
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But, one fabulous, sparkly, shimmery year on, this Mamma's certainly turned her Woes into Whoa's!<br />
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All because of this teeny weeny little blog and a community of Oh-So-Fabulous-and-Inspiring readers!<br />
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I'm still a stay at home mamma.<br />
I'm still devoted to my spirited little girls.<br />
I still swoon over the ravishing Mr Whoa Mamma.<br />
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But I'm no longer empty inside.<br />
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Today is the eve of Greek Orthodox Easter. Which is fitting, because it's all about Resurrection and Re-Birth. I'm typing this inbetween baking batches of cookies with my girls and preparing for our big family feast tomorrow. This Mamma feels like she has been resurrected and re-born. It's amazing what a little Self-Love can do.<br />
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This is my little piece of Heaven.<br />
A wonderful world where I'm more than just a wife, mother, sister, daughter.<br />
Casa de Whoa Mamma: my cosy little home where you're Welcome ALL the time!<br />
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So, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU with all my buxomy heart, for taking the time to visit my little world. It gives me the biggest thrill, YOU, Sweet One, that you are here, right now, reading this.<br />
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Thank You to all the fabulous bloggers out there who continue to inspire me, entertain me, enchant me, motivate me, share with me and basically make the day a Whole Lot More Luminous and Joyous.<br />
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And, if you are sitting here reading this and wondering if you should start a blog, do it! do it! DO IT!<br />
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Don't do it for anyone else, do it for YOU!<br />
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It changed my life, and it could change yours too!<br />
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Hip Hip Hooray!</div>
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P.S: Stay tuned next week for a super-special giveaway just for YOU!</div>
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Yes, it's my Bloggy Birthday but you get the gifts!</div>
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Yippee!!!!!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7P_vpQAQNBqLMTqwIFTq_uNIDPqQs3ZkPBtT7fVVUGg_MgRpsg6VEDnkuW-xuMC9DoO_tGNIngfVySpZAuoDQ0FE6w0kkuIINs-RW-6lKEGXBrOz-BDZqP88jU_Y88y8MkAuWY9EieUk/s1600/Jess+&+Katia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7P_vpQAQNBqLMTqwIFTq_uNIDPqQs3ZkPBtT7fVVUGg_MgRpsg6VEDnkuW-xuMC9DoO_tGNIngfVySpZAuoDQ0FE6w0kkuIINs-RW-6lKEGXBrOz-BDZqP88jU_Y88y8MkAuWY9EieUk/s320/Jess+&+Katia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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P.P.S: I'm celebrating by joining in the Ultimate Blog Party! Hip Hip Hooray!<br />
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<a href="http://www.5minutesformom.com/51797/ultimate-blog-party-2012/"><img alt="Ultimate Blog Party 2012" src="http://www.5minutesformom.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/UBP265x110.jpg" title="Ultimate Blog Party 2012" /></a><br />
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P.P.P.S: If you really want to give this Mamma a thrill and an extra reason for celebrating, would you like to throw a lil vote 'Whoa, Mamma's!' way in the Sydney Writer's Centre 'Best Australian Blogs 2012 People's Choice Award'? You can vote with one easy-peasy click!<br />
Just click on the link below and scroll down to 'Whoa, Mamma!'<br />
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Thank you!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixIQn61MqyjdxNDR07QrumlRt0BpHSE9eOKxTik9JOpR3r2SwQhBeoGBmPAL3VtiEF-OQyERo16Ex7nKNTIY7mtQSlze8dNArGvQGPzftLSMd4jY1aXyfTMjR5c91UKWTCW0soXApEs2E/s1600/BABC-vote.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixIQn61MqyjdxNDR07QrumlRt0BpHSE9eOKxTik9JOpR3r2SwQhBeoGBmPAL3VtiEF-OQyERo16Ex7nKNTIY7mtQSlze8dNArGvQGPzftLSMd4jY1aXyfTMjR5c91UKWTCW0soXApEs2E/s1600/BABC-vote.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=gi0xRFKdJXozqkcl%2fX07tFOg7aNUfH3iQk8EZRX1aPE%3d" target="_blank">Vote <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">HERE</span>!!!!</a></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="blogger-post-footer"><div id="fb-root"></div><script src="http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js#appId=229530483764662&xfbml=1"></script><fb:like href="http://mummiesaremagic.blogspot.com" send="true" layout="button_count" width="450" show_faces="true" font="verdana"></fb:like></div>Jess WhoaMammahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12137190564912696355noreply@blogger.com12