E is for about time

I catch the #86 tram to work which is always an interesting experience. It's a bit of a slow coach, especially compared to the glorious #96, the queen of trams, which I used to catch when I lived in the 3056. The #86 lurches and stumbles while the #96 glides with elegance and grace. This is partly because of the swish E class trams that they use on the #96 which can only glide with elegance and grace, while the #86 has those D class trams that have stairs and narrow doorways and are very unfriendly to people with prams or mobility aids.  The #86 has a gazillion stops and lots of twists and turns while the #96 shoots down Nicholson street like and arrow and gets you where you're going in no time. I loved the #96 for its efficiency but I have to say, I have come to love the #86 for its rough and ready quality. It's an unpretentious piece of transport, mostly very frequent and very reliable and always full of people which shows it is a much needed transport route. It's the bastard John Snow while the #96 is one of those right born Starks who are good and all, but just not as interesting. 

And guess what you guys. As of this week, they are introducing E class trams to the #86! That's like giving Jon Snow a valerian steel sword! I'm writing this from the #86, and thought it's just an old D class this morning I know that next time, maybe next time it could be a E class. Hooray! Winter is coming!

Get out

I have got to get out more. Last night I got a pocket call from Dad's phone clearly made by my mum but the phone obviously was not in her pocket because she left a voicemail in which I could extremely clearly hear both sides of a conversation between her and K's mum that they must have been having on Mum's phone.

I only listened for a few seconds of course. Obviously it was a mistake and although the conversation was only about them trying to arrange a meeting it did feel a little weird and pervy listening. There was something a little David Lynch about the experience. Like how could Mum accidentally call me when she must have been just sitting around at home and the offending phone clearly wasn't in a pocket? How do you even do a pocket dial from an iPhone that requires a passcode? And why could I clearly hear both sides of the conversation when I know my  mum wouldn't use speaker phone, I believe her hearing makes it unfavourable. Then whole thing is so mysterious I started writing a blog post about it this morning until I realised that it was also so boring. It may seem Lynchian to me but in truth i know it was just an accident. No dwarf conspiring to creep me out here. But life is pretty small when you have a tiny baby and I can't keep on writing about the US election. And I really didn't want to bore you with complaints of a back so sore it even hurts to sneeze.

And so I make this pledge to you, readers, I'm going to get out! See the world! Have something interesting to say! And I'm going to do it by Thursday! And then regularly! As long as my back gets better!

Bring it back

I wish it was still fun, fantastic Friday. That day was great. And I went to two funerals last week, so kind of urgently needed. Saturday and Sunday were pretty super too.

But it's Monday now. Monday. Often a tough day. But today it's going to be particularly tough for me. Mucho maudlin Monday, perhaps I'll call it. I seem to have come down with yet another Childcare transmitted bug and this one is a doozie. 💩🤒

Fun fantastic Friday

Although it is clearly taking K and me some time to get into the swing of our new single, daily post regime I'm feeling pretty positive about it. Excited even. There are a bunch of reasons why. For example, a change is as good as a holiday and I love holidays! The new format demands something slightly different and I think this new approach may be good for my brain. And  something I hadn't really identified until today, it is bringing back into our lives all the days, opening doors for new post concepts, probably based on alliteration and also allows the return of classic MSC favourites such as WTF Wednesday, Terrific Tuesday and Friday Favourites!

But let's talk about today. According to Baby, Fridays at school are referred to as fun, fantastic Friday. It's probably just one hour in the afternoon where they get to draw or something, but whatever this phrase means exactly, he's always excited about it. But why does he get to have all the fun. I love alliteration too! And Fridays! I'm totally going to have a fun fantastic Friday! Here's how:

I'm going to send Baby to school and Newbie to childcare which means I'll just be home with Whoopsee which means that I have a whole six hours in which I mainly get to do whatever I want. And considering that all I really want to do is lie around and cuddle my sleeping baby and play with her when she wakes up I think I'm totally going to tick every box on my to-do list tomorrow!

But it doesn't stop there! It wouldn't be a MSC day supreme if it didn't involve coffee so naturally I'm going to drink a bunch of that. I may even have a home brew with some porridge, raspberries and vanilla yoghurt in the morning and one in a cafe later. Go hard or go home I always say.

And just to nail the day I may even go check out a jumpsuit that K brought to my attention the other day and if it looks as cute as was hinted at when I drove past the shop window yesterday it really might put the fantastic into this Friday.

Let me tell you guys, if you are the mother of three children including a 7-week-old baby it really doesn't take much to turn a regular day into a fun fantastic one. It's kind of like being a one-pot screamer. Sure people may laugh at you because you are such an easy drunk but you'll have the last laugh cause you only have to spend five bucks at the pub. I'm just the activity equivalent of that. Sure you may think I'm a loser for doing nothing with my life, but who has the last laugh? I do! Because I all I have to do is have an extra coffee and lie around and I get to feel like I'm really nailing life. Yeah!

Might as well jump

So I thought I would directly engage with the topic of jumpsuits canvassed yesterday.

Even though I only have one, I dig the jumpsuit.


I think their appeal is their simplicity. One garment, totally meeting your covering nakedness and style needs, serve it up, let's go. Some people like wearing layers but to be honest, I don't even like wearing separates. 

Figuring out how to pair all those tops and all those bottoms? It's a bit of a headache. That's why I like wearing dresses so much. One garment, everything you need, serve it up, let's go. But the jumpsuit is more fun than the dress.


Until it's time to go to the toilet, then it's more annoying than the dress.


But hell, we're here for a long time, not a good time as our friend Bibby used to say. The idea of eliminating all annoyance in clothing is an impossible dream.


So yeah, jumpsuits!

A vision for the (immediate) future

After my reveal on Monday that I had determined my look for summer K texted me to ask what my summer look would be. I had one word for her: jumpsuits!

I should probably have given her a few more words because if you think about it, jumpsuits isn't really a look for a whole season. Especially for a girl that only owns four jumpsuits and can only breastfeed in two of them. I'm committed to the look and currently have an expensive boob-accessible jumpsuit on layby but it's not really feasible to keep buying expensive jumpsuits. Or own them in summer if I keep laybying them. And yet I can't shake the feeling that this summer is meant to be all about the jumpsuit.  It's possibly a reaction to my recent pregnancy rendering me unable to wear jumpsuits for many months or to the fact that I don't fit into most of my jeans. Whatever the reason, I'm embracing jumpys. 

The thing about jumpsuits is that you have to embrace them, otherwise it's too easy to think they're too full on for day-to-day wear but forget that! There's nothing too full on for daily wear and certainly when you keep dropping hunjies on jumpeys you don't want them to go to waste in your wardrobe. But this leaves me in a position where I have to figure out how to supplement my jumpsuits on nonjumpsuit days. 

Oh sure I could just wear any old thing: shorts and a t-shirt; skirts and singlet; a dress. And we all know that in reality that's probably what will happen but that doesn't help me when I'm trying to construct a theory of my summer look. 

Reading over past blog posts about summer looks I feel like I had some solid summer directions: colour palletes, adjectives. I'm beginning to wonder if "jumpsuits!" isn't quite enough to define my key look for summer so I guess I should be grateful for this miserable weather buying me time to elaborate on my sartorial direction. You haven't heard the last of this friends!

March to the end of the year

Yesterdays shit hot weather made me think about last summer.
This time last year, Appleheart,  KB and I were on a plane on the way to London, where we remained (more or less) until February 2016. KB was four months old and we were all pretty raw from the experience of either having looked after a baby for four months or having been a baby for four months.
We were excited and daunted AF (as the kids like to say these days). I love London, and was pretty delighted to be going there. But being away from home with a new baby was going to be tough. And it was going to be cold. Cold AF (as the kids like to say). We were going to miss most of summer and though I was happy to be going away I was not happy to be missing summer. With the benefit of hindsight I can say boy was I right, missing summer is a bunch of bullshit. We made the most of the cold and had some truly excellent cold weather days. Several times taking long walks through London and then stopping off at cosy pubs to drink mulled wine and/or Guinness spring to mind. London is so good at cosy pubs. Walking along the coast in Lands End, in Cornwall, in very wild weather which looked a lot like the pace Dumbledore went to find a horcrux and shit got real for him. There were also the walks through snow in the Swedish countryside and the time it snowed overnight in Copenhagen then the sun came out and we went for a jog around the cemetery. I remember that because it was the only jog I did in three months and I nearly puked all over the fresh white snow.
Look, it was pretty fantastic, really.
And now I'm in a tight spot because the point of this post was to highlight that the lead up to the end of the year is always so mental, and last year I missed that, and so ended 2015 in a state of relative calm, which was the silver lining to missing out on summer.
But maybe I've just discovered that missing summer doesn't even need a silver lining. I missed something great but I had something great. It was just great.
Wow.

Sunshine revisited

You didn't have to be in NSW last week to enjoy some sunshine. Although today's forecast of 38 is beyond what I like in a summer day, last Thursday's 32 was just about perfect. I'm not saying I like day after day of 32s but a few now and again suits me just fine.

Last Thursday evening on that hot day I took the kids to the pool. As we were walking out the front door my next door neighbour was walking out her from door with her 2.5-year-old on their way to the pool too, she met her partner there and half an hour later LB showed up with another neighbour's 3-year-old son and as the sun lowered in the sky hitting everything with that yellow summer's evening light I felt like I was in a god damn Tim Winton novel. In the best possible way. I mean, is this Australia or what!? The neighbours all at the pool, sharing responsibility of watching the children as they frolic in the water cooling themselves in the golden light of summer. It was so idyllic, I could barely believe it. My neighbours later had Jimmy Grants delivered by Uber Eats to the pool, and although I can't imagine that happening in a Tim Winton novel it really did add to the feeling that life can be pretty sweet.

I know I complained a lot last week, about my pregnancy weight and politics but the truth is I'm mainly a glass-half-full kinda gal. I may whinge about a lot of things. I may draw conclusions about people I don't know, I may complain about people I do know. I may lament not having a good wardrobe or money or a satisfying job. And I'm sorry, because all in all life is pretty good most of the time. I know that the light of the lowering sun is pretty special and can not be replicated any old time and I know that not everyone gets to live in an awesome street with neighbours who become friends and have similarly aged children, but hell guys, a sweet evening at Fitzroy pool really makes you see the good in life. As long as these 38 degree days don't keep up I've got some pretty good feelings about this summer.

I've even planned my summer look, despite Pickle being too distracted to even ask about where my summer look is headed. But more about that some other time.

Sunshine

I'm in a place called Corlette. It's an hour north of Newcastle. My word New South Wales knows how to make a nice beach.
Last night KB, Appleheart and I we were playing with a ball down by the water and three pelicans came along. It was very exciting and they were incredibly cute with their waddly way of walking and spiky feathers. I was loving watching them until one of them got a little bit too close to KB for my liking and I started thinking that if any of them tried to hurt KB they were going to get cut.
It was a slightly confronting moment among all the beauty and serenity. Of course it didn't come to that because I didn't have a knife. Jokes! They didn't try to get KB because they are pelicans and have no interest in a small baby.
It's going to be 32 up here today. Like a proper summer day.
Everything seems better when it's sunshiny. 

The grey lining

I was watching this show the other night that kept showing footage of Trump  "mocking disabled reporter". Now that was some totally fucked up shit. One of the many, many, many things you just can not believe happened. But the thing that made me feel good when I watched it was that I would bet my life that if that had happened in Australia, if some political candidate did such a thing here they would have been gone petty much instantly. Their party backing gone, instant dismissal. Gone. I mean there may be a strong undercurrent of misogyny in this country and some fairly overt racism but at least there is a sense that you've got to at least treat individuals with respect and generally not make fun of people. Unless you're a cartoonist. Then you can make fun of anyone. And get paid. But you definitely can't do that if you're a politician. If you're going to say fucked up shit about people as a politician you have to couch it in moderate language. Or at least not act like an 8-year-old kid teasing someone. Sure politicians here can create policies that are racist and mean (no entry ever to people settled elsewhere if they've attempted to arrive here by boat anyone?) but at least you can't mock the disabled. I'm pretty sure. Yay Australia. I guess.  

More reality check

Hey, did you all see Miss Dizzy's delightful comment on J's Monday post? People say that internet commenters are nasty trolls but not our readers, no sirree.

Hey, did you all see the Super Moon last night? I did. It looked like a big moon. That's all. Just a big moon in the sky.

Hey, did you all notice that I didn't post yesterday? I'm still sorting out the teething problems related to my baby teething Ha! Not really. It's the teething problems related to not being able to use any of my devices to blog, thats what I'm sorting out. I've had to borrow Appleheart's computer, and then in turn have had to deal with the inevitable questions like "Why are there all these pictures of Chris Pine open on my computer" when I forget to cover my tracks.  I'll get it sorted out though. Promise.

Hey, has anyone seen the weather forecast for the next few days. It's going to be super nice!
Let's focus on the positives, shall we?

Reality check

I feel like such an idiot. Remember months ago I told you how much I was looking forward to October and November because I wouldn't be pregnant anymore and it'd be spring and I'd finally be able to dress normally? Was I in denial overload or what?! I mean spring in Melbourne, warm? What was I thinking? Not to mention my body. Oh sure I'm skinnier now than I was 6 weeks ago but also I have the body of a woman that was pregnant until 6 weeks ago. Of course I love having a substantial part of my wardrobe back in action but I'd love it more if I looked better in it. 

Don't get me wrong the grass is definitely greener here than back then. I can wear pants. I way prefer my babies ex utero than in utero and the rainy days are interspersed with sunny days. And in fact last night I felt practically gleeful when the rain started. Sitting inside of an evening while it rains makes me nearly as happy as brushing my teeth an hour before I go to bed. But when am I actually going to look good in clothes? My theory is that 8 months postpartum is optimum bod time, but if I'm honest with myself, and you,I'm pretty nervous about how things may pan out now that I'm in my late thirties. I mean Leonardo Dicaprio turned 42 last week. Do you know how old that makes me? An age where I'm probably really going to have to make an effort to lose weight after having a baby. Sigh. 

So I'm just going to eat the McDonald's style apple pies Russeth made that are in my freezer and the ice cream to get them out of my house and stop slathering butter on the Coles brand flatbread I'm weirdly addicted to (mainly because I eat it slathered in butter I suppose). Probably I'll have to stop snacking constantly out of fear that if I don't I'll get so hungry I pass out or eat a horse. Once I have achieved these things then maybe I'll look forward to a time when I may look good in clothes again. If only I didn't have to give up comfort eating to see me through this difficult time. Sigh. 

What's happening?

I would never rarely give someone a hard time for thinking someone was a hunk. Especially a pretty boy. I LOVE them pretty. I mean I thought Paul Walker was a hunk after seeing Skulls. RIP PW. 

Sure I have a couple of issues with K's crush. Like, I don't really think he's that pretty. His eyes are too small for his big lips and all his features are squashed into the centre of his big face. Or maybe it's something about the nose. But having said that I've never seen him in anything and we all know a hunk animated is completely different to a 2D image of some guy. I mean I've barely even seen this guys face in any other guise than his Star Trek character and who the fuck knows why or when I've even seen that. Secondly I don't know if I'm imagining it but I feel like there is some kind of visual similarity between him and his Australian politician namesake. I know there isn't really but maybe something about the eyes. Or maybe it's my imagination. 

Either way that guy is not for me. So says I now. It would probably be a completely different story if I'd seen Hell or High Water. 

But who can think about hunks when what happened in America yesterday happened. You know that thing about how people say Americans are idiots and then you say well come on you can't make generalisations like that about entire nations and look at all the great things that came out of America. I mean, there really are heaps of great things. Like Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Shake Shack.

And yet...

K and I had a pretty insightful discussion about the Trump issue via text message yesterday. So instead of me rehashing it here I'll just let you read our text conversation. 

 

Confession time

Something happened to me recently that I haven't yet told J about.
I've been meaning to tell her, but I haven't found the right time.
I'm pretty sure she's going to be shocked and appalled. I'm shocked and appalled.
It's shocking and appalling.
The thing I haven't told her is this: I went to see the movie Hell or High Water (which I really really loved) and I walked out of it with a giant boner for this guy:

Eeewwww. What's wrong with me? He's a classic pretty boy of the style I usually feel completely unmoved by. He has the same name as a particularly odious member of the Abbott/Turnbull government. He's so movie star looking.Eeeewwww! But he is just so great in this movie, I couldn't help myself. I'm hoping that it's just that I loved the movie, and if I see him something again I won't give a hoot.  But until then he is a total dreamboat. I don't dare use the H word in relation to him, but he made me feel real feelings in my heart spot, just like real hunks do.  It's hard to ignore.
But I'm pretty sure J is going to give me hell for it. 

What's happening

So I'm pretty excited about daily Miss Soft Crab, but I'll admit that remembering to blog every second day after the last couple years of biweekly blogging may be tough. But here I am! So far so good. 

I'm going to follow K's lead from yesterday and embrace this happenings thing bloggers do. But I sure as hell am not going to use that list of headings K used. You think I have all day!?

I have three children for Christ's sake! I barely have all minute. 

Doing: the same old shit but interspersed with breastfeeding and extra nappy changes. Also just delighting in how fucking adorable my baby is. Plus feeling bad that I can't just dedicate some solid time to any one of my children. 

Hearing: the competing demands of my children. And then the tv when I can not take their demands anymore and need to distract them. 

Drinking: I wish. 

Eating and cooking: both constantly. 

Enjoying: my baby. She's a delight. The other kids are ok too. 

Loving: that I totally ditched a bunch of the headings K went through yesterday and the fact I'm going to end this right now!!

New Crab City (PM)

Hi guys!

Bye guys!

I'm not here to tell you about what's up with me. I'm going to do that tomorrow.

Whaaaaa? I know.  You might not have asked for it, but we're giving it to you anyway. Miss Soft Crab is moving back to a daily blog. I know! We're abandoning the AM/PM format, but don't worry you'll still get to enjoy the hilarious conversation between K and me as we alternate days to give you a little injection of joy each morning before you embark on the drudgery of daily life.

See you on the flip side

New Crab City (AM)

We're back you guys!
As you all know, the Misses Soft Crab have had a sweet hiatus so J,  LB, Baby and Newbie could spend some QT getting to know the new baby. But we also got up to other things.  Especially me. Well, not really. I mean, I don't want to create the impression that I've been doing lots of fun stuff, it's just that I have had more free time than J because I don't have a new baby.
But now that I've managed your expectations re: the awesome stuff I've been doing, let me fill you in on what has been going down lately in the K-niverse. And let me do so in the style of so many bloggers: with a list of happenings. You know the ones. Lots of boring shit details about bloggers lives under too many headings. I'm taking my inspiration from this blog  which I started reading when KB was born because it's written by someone who had a baby at pretty much the same time. She has a much more positive outlook than I do and eats extremely good look food all the time and far fewer Doritos than I do, so seems equal parts admirable and annoying.
Here goes!

Doing: Well geez, that's a bit of a plot spoiler, is it not? But alright then. I've been wiping snot from KB's nose a lot and wondering whether the presence of snot means I can't go visit J who has a new baby that she's trying to keep germ free.

Hearing:  Gosh. What am I hearing? The fridge's mechanical whir? The sound of the toy drum that KB plays all the time, especially when his parents need to get shit done? Yes, readers, all of those things. I've also been enjoying the My Dad Wrote a Porno podcast, because it's as if Alan Partridge has written erotic fiction. Which is to say, hilarious and gross.

Drinking: Yes please.

Eating and cooking: Doritos and things that include Doritos, like Nachos. I also cooked the Lamb Shwarma from Jerusalem the other day and some wholemeal scones that had been in the freezer for god knows how long because we had some cream in the house and I felt like I should eat it with something other than a spoon that goes into my mouth all the time.

Wanting:  Eh, what do I need? Apart from a better functioning pelvic floor, amirite ladies?

Playing: A really swell game called Who's a Naked Baby? which basically involves stripping a baby (mine) before bathtime and then singing "who's a naked baby?" over and over again. Brings the house down. In those moments, I am Madonna circa Blonde Ambition tour.

Deciding: How to live a moral life in an amoral world, like everyone. Sheesh.

Enjoying: The idea that this list will end soon.

Looking: Ahead to see how many more headings there are. Nine! For chrissake!

Loving: Brevity.

Buying: Time.

Planning: To make this end as soon as possible.

Watching: The clock. Also, I'm excited to start watching the QEII series on Netflix. I'll be writing a letter if they don't effectively capture the majesty of Monarchrome.

Savouring: Things that know how not to be too long.

Wearing: The same old shit.

Reading: Words.

Craving: GOD, SHUT UP!

Feeling: Immense relief.