A completely off-topic post, but this affected me so much I simply had to share.
I got up at what Deb would call stupid o'clock this morning to fit in my daily jog. Even at 5.30, the air was thick with the smell of wood smoke. By the time I got home, it had permeated the house. By the time I left for work, the smoke haze had well and truly settled in. In a community that has been devastated by fire of late, this is not a sign you want to see.
On my walk to the train station I saw something that gave me goosebumps on this warm day. Gathered on the other side of the road was a large group of firefighters in their orange jackets and braces. Some were sitting on the ground, others standing. All looked wrecked. There were at least 50 of them with more coming as emergency vehicles poured into the adjacent carpark. Evidently this was their assembly point.
As I got closer to them I could see what was written on their backs. They were all members of either the NSW Fire Brigade or the NSW Ambulance Rescue Service. It was at this point that it became too much for me and tears pricked my eyes. These people have left their homes and families interstate to come and assist in the most dangerous of circumstances. Sometimes human kindness can be overwhelming.
I immediately wanted to do something for them. Coffee? Food? Sadly, as I was on my way to work neither of these was readily available.
So I did the best I could in the circumstances.
Voice wavering with emotion, as I walked past I looked several of them in the eye and uttered a heartfelt 'thank you'.
Friday, 27 February 2009
Monday, 23 February 2009
The Girl Crush
I've alluded to this before - I have a new girl crush.
For those of you who aren't familiar with the term, girl- and boy-crush are generally applied to people of the same gender whom one admires feverishly. Urban Dictionary describes it as feelings of admiration and adoration which a girl has for another girl, without wanting to shag said girl.
And I have to admit, I have it bad for Michelle Obama.
On Inauguration Day, I was watching mainly for her. Am I thrilled to bits that Barack Obama is now the President of the United States? Absolutely. But that wasn't enough to hold my attention. It was all about Michelle for me.
I love that she's tall and continues to wear heels.
I love that she's feisty.
I love that her family comes first.
I love that she's smart - and was once her husband's boss.
I love her wardrobe.
I love ... ah, I just love her.
Let's face it, I have a big ol' girl crush on Michelle. What can I say, I admire strong, ambitious women who have the ability to unite people. And if they can do so whilst looking smashing at the same time, more power to them! I think I've just found my new style icon, in more ways than one.
If the Obamas ever come to Australia, they can stay at my place, 'kay?
For those of you who aren't familiar with the term, girl- and boy-crush are generally applied to people of the same gender whom one admires feverishly. Urban Dictionary describes it as feelings of admiration and adoration which a girl has for another girl, without wanting to shag said girl.
And I have to admit, I have it bad for Michelle Obama.
On Inauguration Day, I was watching mainly for her. Am I thrilled to bits that Barack Obama is now the President of the United States? Absolutely. But that wasn't enough to hold my attention. It was all about Michelle for me.
I love that she's tall and continues to wear heels.
I love that she's feisty.
I love that her family comes first.
I love that she's smart - and was once her husband's boss.
I love her wardrobe.
I love ... ah, I just love her.
Let's face it, I have a big ol' girl crush on Michelle. What can I say, I admire strong, ambitious women who have the ability to unite people. And if they can do so whilst looking smashing at the same time, more power to them! I think I've just found my new style icon, in more ways than one.
If the Obamas ever come to Australia, they can stay at my place, 'kay?
Thursday, 19 February 2009
Care for (a) Fika?
Yesterday in preparation for my upcoming trip I met some Swedes for lunch. They were filling me in on language and culture when one of them suddenly leant over and told me,
"You'll have to have fika with my friends!"
Cough cough splutter pardon? I'll have to do what?
My mind raced. But... I have a boyfriend. No. Surely they don't mean? They couldn't. They wouldn't. Would they?
Subsequent conversation cleared it up. It was entirely innocent. What Nea had told me - and I had subsequently forgotten - is that fika (pronounced fee-ka) is Swedish for coffee/cake. According to my hosts yesterday, I will enjoy fika a lot.
He he.
"You'll have to have fika with my friends!"
Cough cough splutter pardon? I'll have to do what?
My mind raced. But... I have a boyfriend. No. Surely they don't mean? They couldn't. They wouldn't. Would they?
Subsequent conversation cleared it up. It was entirely innocent. What Nea had told me - and I had subsequently forgotten - is that fika (pronounced fee-ka) is Swedish for coffee/cake. According to my hosts yesterday, I will enjoy fika a lot.
He he.
Love is not equal
At least, not where Ken Starr is concerned.
Deb sent me an email this morning that was quite upsetting. When I read it I immediately thought of the Holocaust, Apartheid and the Stolen Generation - events that saw people separated from one another simply because someone else felt that it threatened them.
Turns out that Mr Starr and the Prop 8 Legal Defense Fund have filed legal briefs in the US defending the constitutionality of Prop 8 and attempting to forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year. The United States Supreme Court will hear oral arguments on March 5 with a decision expected in 90 days.
I don't understand it. Nothing - nothing - about marriages between same-sex couples threatens anyone else. It breaks my heart that two consenting adults who love and cherish one another would not able to formally recognise their commitment to one another. For goodness' sake, people. They want to marry, not annihilate the world.
Some of those against it would say that it isn't fair to the children - which I say is a big load of rubbish. So long as children have parents who respect one another, who raise their children in a safe, loving environment, who cares what sex they are? I've said it before, parental love doesn't come with a gender. Would Starr and associates vouch that my father loves me less than my mother because he's a man? Or conversely my mother because she's a woman?
It wasn't so long ago that mixed-race marriages were considered wrong and unfair to the children. The fact that the President of the United States is the product of a mixed-race marriage pretty much puts that one to sleep.
In fact, I imagine that many same-sex couples would be excellent parents given the hoops that need to be jumped through. As a former teacher I've seen so many kids in traditional families who are neglected (both emotionally and physically) and unloved - and yet some more rampant members of the right wing would have me believe that these kids are better off with a mummy and a daddy who ignore them rather than a daddy and daddy who cherish them. No thanks. I'm not buying that today.
US citizens are encouraged to go to the Courage Campaign site and sign a petition arguing against the motion to the Supreme Court. Sadly, as an Australian I don't think my signature would count so this post is the next best thing. On the same page is a video, Fidelity, made to highlight the case. The first image of a little girl sitting between her dads sent shivers down my spine. That someone would even consider breaking up a happy home because it doesn't sit within their belief system is abhorrent to me.
John Lennon said it first.
Love is the answer and you know that for sure.
Forcibly divorcing those who love one another is not.
Deb sent me an email this morning that was quite upsetting. When I read it I immediately thought of the Holocaust, Apartheid and the Stolen Generation - events that saw people separated from one another simply because someone else felt that it threatened them.
Turns out that Mr Starr and the Prop 8 Legal Defense Fund have filed legal briefs in the US defending the constitutionality of Prop 8 and attempting to forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year. The United States Supreme Court will hear oral arguments on March 5 with a decision expected in 90 days.
I don't understand it. Nothing - nothing - about marriages between same-sex couples threatens anyone else. It breaks my heart that two consenting adults who love and cherish one another would not able to formally recognise their commitment to one another. For goodness' sake, people. They want to marry, not annihilate the world.
Some of those against it would say that it isn't fair to the children - which I say is a big load of rubbish. So long as children have parents who respect one another, who raise their children in a safe, loving environment, who cares what sex they are? I've said it before, parental love doesn't come with a gender. Would Starr and associates vouch that my father loves me less than my mother because he's a man? Or conversely my mother because she's a woman?
It wasn't so long ago that mixed-race marriages were considered wrong and unfair to the children. The fact that the President of the United States is the product of a mixed-race marriage pretty much puts that one to sleep.
In fact, I imagine that many same-sex couples would be excellent parents given the hoops that need to be jumped through. As a former teacher I've seen so many kids in traditional families who are neglected (both emotionally and physically) and unloved - and yet some more rampant members of the right wing would have me believe that these kids are better off with a mummy and a daddy who ignore them rather than a daddy and daddy who cherish them. No thanks. I'm not buying that today.
US citizens are encouraged to go to the Courage Campaign site and sign a petition arguing against the motion to the Supreme Court. Sadly, as an Australian I don't think my signature would count so this post is the next best thing. On the same page is a video, Fidelity, made to highlight the case. The first image of a little girl sitting between her dads sent shivers down my spine. That someone would even consider breaking up a happy home because it doesn't sit within their belief system is abhorrent to me.
John Lennon said it first.
Love is the answer and you know that for sure.
Forcibly divorcing those who love one another is not.
Sunday, 15 February 2009
St Valentine's scepticism
Valentine's day was yesterday. Not that I noticed. It wasn't until Tom and I and six friends were trying to get into a St Kilda restaurant last night that I realised it was crowded with couples and it hit me. Oh! It's Valentine's day!
I was brought up in a house where Valentine's day was never really celebrated. As a kid I yearned to see Dad bring home flowers for Mum (and maybe his two girls, if we were lucky) but it never eventuated. My Mum's a realist and much prefers Dad to acknowledge anniversaries rather than the Hallmark holiday.
Turns out I'm not so different. In the lead-up to Valentine's day, a number of friends and colleagues asked me what Tom and I had planned. Many of them were bemused when I said nothing. And that I neither wanted or expected anything from my beloved.
Daniel, a colleague, was sceptical. In his Irish lilt he asked me what I really expected as 'we all know girls don't actually mean it when they say not to get them anything.'
But mean it I did. Something about Valentine's day jars with me. After my conversation with Dan, I made sure to tell Tom that I absolutely meant everything I said. Maybe I'm a cynic, but I don't see the point in splashing out on tacky plush love hearts (shudder), red roses (which I don't happen to like - I much prefer white) and chocolates.
The gestures in themselves are lovely but I'm of the view that they mean so much more if they're unexpected rather than bestowed because society and greeting card companies tell us to. Flowers on the day everyone else gets them? Nice, I guess. But flowers on a random Tuesday just to say 'I love you'? Super special.
So yesterday we did nothing out of the ordinary. We went grocery shopping and did the vacuuming. We read the papers in the afternoon and in the evening we caught up with Tom's sister and her husband who were visiting from interstate before dinner with them and their friends. When I told Tom's brother-in-law about my Valentine's day stance he went rushing to Tom's side.
'Hey, mate. You should hang on to this one.'
Perhaps I should have been born a boy.
I was brought up in a house where Valentine's day was never really celebrated. As a kid I yearned to see Dad bring home flowers for Mum (and maybe his two girls, if we were lucky) but it never eventuated. My Mum's a realist and much prefers Dad to acknowledge anniversaries rather than the Hallmark holiday.
Turns out I'm not so different. In the lead-up to Valentine's day, a number of friends and colleagues asked me what Tom and I had planned. Many of them were bemused when I said nothing. And that I neither wanted or expected anything from my beloved.
Daniel, a colleague, was sceptical. In his Irish lilt he asked me what I really expected as 'we all know girls don't actually mean it when they say not to get them anything.'
But mean it I did. Something about Valentine's day jars with me. After my conversation with Dan, I made sure to tell Tom that I absolutely meant everything I said. Maybe I'm a cynic, but I don't see the point in splashing out on tacky plush love hearts (shudder), red roses (which I don't happen to like - I much prefer white) and chocolates.
The gestures in themselves are lovely but I'm of the view that they mean so much more if they're unexpected rather than bestowed because society and greeting card companies tell us to. Flowers on the day everyone else gets them? Nice, I guess. But flowers on a random Tuesday just to say 'I love you'? Super special.
So yesterday we did nothing out of the ordinary. We went grocery shopping and did the vacuuming. We read the papers in the afternoon and in the evening we caught up with Tom's sister and her husband who were visiting from interstate before dinner with them and their friends. When I told Tom's brother-in-law about my Valentine's day stance he went rushing to Tom's side.
'Hey, mate. You should hang on to this one.'
Perhaps I should have been born a boy.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Some more love
I've been away a bit of late. There's been a bit on at work, some more Sweden preparations (a whole other post, I'm afraid) and then there've been the bushfires. Being safe and well and in possession of a home I feel I've no right to complain - and I'm not, really. It's just that being a complete and utter sook, I've found myself emotionally exhausted at the end of each day. Both the sheer horror of it all and the kindess of a community have reduced me to tears more than once.
But back to it. Recently, I was given the One Lovely Blog Award by two (very) beautiful and (very) intelligent ladies - Jayne and Deb. It's a huge ego boost and a magnificent mood-lifter, so cheers, girls!
The rules of receiving such an award are that you must:
1. Add the logo to your blog
2. Link to the person who gifted you the award
3. Nominate 7 or more people to bestow the award upon (but I think how many is up to you, really).
4. Leave a message on their blog telling them they have One Lovely Blog.
Who to pick, who to pick? I can honestly say that I have the utmost respect and take a HUGE amount of enjoyment from reading the blogs of those I link to and those who comment here. Some of you (Andrew, Pat, Ann, Reuben, Al) have already been nominated by Deb and Jayne. And others simply have to be shared with the wider world. Who?
I give you...
Ling, because the girl's got great taste in music and tv shows. And I think her accent would be pretty cool as well.
Aurora Australis, for living the (ok, my) dream of being a Berlin resident.
Lad Litter, because he's seen me through two blogs now and is smart, funny and adores his wife to boot.
Phish, for never failing to make me smile and for not being afraid of honesty.
Blakkat, because she still has a sense of humour after enduring the worst the public education system can throw at you.
Dina, for her unbridled enthusiasm for all things Australian.
Adelaine, because she's in Germany, too!
I'd also like to give one retrospectively to both Steph and Peach. Gorgeous girls who no longer write but were huge blogging influences on me nonetheless.
Go give some love yourselves now. Blog or otherwise.
But back to it. Recently, I was given the One Lovely Blog Award by two (very) beautiful and (very) intelligent ladies - Jayne and Deb. It's a huge ego boost and a magnificent mood-lifter, so cheers, girls!
The rules of receiving such an award are that you must:
1. Add the logo to your blog
2. Link to the person who gifted you the award
3. Nominate 7 or more people to bestow the award upon (but I think how many is up to you, really).
4. Leave a message on their blog telling them they have One Lovely Blog.
Who to pick, who to pick? I can honestly say that I have the utmost respect and take a HUGE amount of enjoyment from reading the blogs of those I link to and those who comment here. Some of you (Andrew, Pat, Ann, Reuben, Al) have already been nominated by Deb and Jayne. And others simply have to be shared with the wider world. Who?
I give you...
Ling, because the girl's got great taste in music and tv shows. And I think her accent would be pretty cool as well.
Aurora Australis, for living the (ok, my) dream of being a Berlin resident.
Lad Litter, because he's seen me through two blogs now and is smart, funny and adores his wife to boot.
Phish, for never failing to make me smile and for not being afraid of honesty.
Blakkat, because she still has a sense of humour after enduring the worst the public education system can throw at you.
Dina, for her unbridled enthusiasm for all things Australian.
Adelaine, because she's in Germany, too!
I'd also like to give one retrospectively to both Steph and Peach. Gorgeous girls who no longer write but were huge blogging influences on me nonetheless.
Go give some love yourselves now. Blog or otherwise.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Love, love, love
Love those around you. Hold them tight, tell them that you love them and never, ever let them forget it.
The horrendous, devastating, BLOODY AWFUL bushfires that are raging around Victoria have claimed 84 lives to date. Eighty-four people, alive yesterday and now gone. For no good reason. Mark my words, if those fires were deliberately lit (as so often seems to be the case), the people responsible will have a heartbroken, angry public to answer to.
I've been teary for most of today. Like most Victorians, I've friends affected by this - and some we're yet to hear from. If you've any prayers going spare, we could use them.
So tonight, do me a favour. Hug someone you love. Tell them you love them. If not for you, then for all those who can't.
The horrendous, devastating, BLOODY AWFUL bushfires that are raging around Victoria have claimed 84 lives to date. Eighty-four people, alive yesterday and now gone. For no good reason. Mark my words, if those fires were deliberately lit (as so often seems to be the case), the people responsible will have a heartbroken, angry public to answer to.
I've been teary for most of today. Like most Victorians, I've friends affected by this - and some we're yet to hear from. If you've any prayers going spare, we could use them.
So tonight, do me a favour. Hug someone you love. Tell them you love them. If not for you, then for all those who can't.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
There but for Deb went I
Deb was cleaning out her sent email folder today. Whilst doing so, she found a string of emails we wrote to one another in the (very) early days of Tom and my relationship. She sent it on to Al and I and the three of us had quite a chuckle.
I wrote the first email a few days after Tom and my first date, when he and I were dancing around the topic of watching a football game together as our second date. Although our first date had gone brilliantly, I wasn't certain where we stood. I wanted to see him again, but I didn't want to be the one to say it. I was the textbook definition of a messed-up girl and high on the drama of it all.
What to do? Why, rant to friends, of course.
From: MD
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:34 PM
To: Deb
Subject: This is Bull#hit!
So, I asked him where the game was being shown. I get back: 'Most of the pubs in the city, richmond and chapel st have it on and I'll find out about which ones in kew.' WTF?!
From: Deb
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:41 PM
To: MD
RE: This is Bull#hit!
I think he's onto you - he knows you are asking a leading question (and he is being quite helpful!). Just ask him if he wants to join you...go on, it's not that bad!
From: MD
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:42 PM
To: Deb
Subject: RE: This is Bull#hit!
Pfft. I am sick of being the one to wear the pants! I want to be chased, dammit!
From: Deb
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:50 PM
To: MD
Subject: RE: This is Bull#hit!
Then you will just have to be patient my pretty.....
Hmm. Having already asked Tom out once, I wasn't impressed with his failure to take the reigns. Why wouldn't he just ask me out? Why should I have to ask him out? What if I did and he said no? My ego and pride would be crushed. To make it all worse, I actually like this guy. Does his not asking me out mean he doesn't like me? Cue meltdown.
Thank goodness for Deb and her wise words, eh? I've said it before, good girlfriends are a salve for the soul.
I wrote the first email a few days after Tom and my first date, when he and I were dancing around the topic of watching a football game together as our second date. Although our first date had gone brilliantly, I wasn't certain where we stood. I wanted to see him again, but I didn't want to be the one to say it. I was the textbook definition of a messed-up girl and high on the drama of it all.
What to do? Why, rant to friends, of course.
From: MD
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:34 PM
To: Deb
Subject: This is Bull#hit!
So, I asked him where the game was being shown. I get back: 'Most of the pubs in the city, richmond and chapel st have it on and I'll find out about which ones in kew.' WTF?!
From: Deb
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:41 PM
To: MD
RE: This is Bull#hit!
I think he's onto you - he knows you are asking a leading question (and he is being quite helpful!). Just ask him if he wants to join you...go on, it's not that bad!
From: MD
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:42 PM
To: Deb
Subject: RE: This is Bull#hit!
Pfft. I am sick of being the one to wear the pants! I want to be chased, dammit!
From: Deb
Sent: Wednesday, 11 June 2008 3:50 PM
To: MD
Subject: RE: This is Bull#hit!
Then you will just have to be patient my pretty.....
Hmm. Having already asked Tom out once, I wasn't impressed with his failure to take the reigns. Why wouldn't he just ask me out? Why should I have to ask him out? What if I did and he said no? My ego and pride would be crushed. To make it all worse, I actually like this guy. Does his not asking me out mean he doesn't like me? Cue meltdown.
Thank goodness for Deb and her wise words, eh? I've said it before, good girlfriends are a salve for the soul.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Baby steps
Over to Ariel and Greg's place today for lunch. Ariel has been my best friend since year 7 and when she and Greg married 5 years ago, he became my best friend-in-law. On the way over, Tom told me that he'd had a dream several nights ago in which I had twins. Twin boys. Gah! I got goosebumps almost immediately. And not the good kind.
I was so shell-shocked when we arrived at Ariel's that the first words out of my mouth were "Tom had a dream that we had twin boys!" She responded with an exclamation of delight. And then encouraged me to have said twins. Gah again. It capped off a week in which we've been encouraged to have children nearly a dozen times. And this after only 8 months!
It got me thinking. Is there some sort of biological questioning cycle at work here?
When you're single, everyone wants to set you up with someone. Have you met anyone lately? Are you getting out there? You should meet my cousin, he's just your type. The offers of bad blind dates camouflaged as good intentions are relentless. I am desperately trying to avoid turning into someone who does this to single friends.
Once coupled up, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the impromptu surveys would stop. No such luck. Is it serious? Where do you see it going? Has he said 'I love you' yet? Yet it's only when the honeymoon period is over that the invasive questions truly begin, as Tom and I discovered on Christmas day.
Surrounded by our nearest and dearest, we were asked when we were going to have kids. Erm, we'd only been going out 6 months at that point. How about not in the forseeable future? Undeterred, my uncle Fred began pouring shots of God Knows What and giving them to me, telling me that they were 'fertile shots'.
"MD, my darling, drink this. You know your Dad really wants to be a granddad. With this, you'll be knocked up by tomorrow!"
When I refused he moved in on Tom. He poured 'double strength' shots, which apparently would make Tom and I "so fertile, you won't even need to look at her!" And all this despite the fact that Fred's own daughter, at two years older than myself and in a 3-year relationship, is yet to have any herself.
It got worse on Australia Day. The gang converged on the park, those gathered ranging in age from 4 weeks to 64 years. As I offered to hold the month-old Amelie, it started again.
"So, looks like you guys will be next!"
"When are you going to have kids?"
"Maybe next time I see you, you'll be pregnant!"
GAH.
There's some sort of communal belief out there that if a couple are in a stable relationship they must be wanting of a child. I guess this tends to be exacerbated if, like me, you melt when in a 100-foot radius of an infant. This in itself has led to Deb placing a bet that I'll be pregnant within 2 years. Er, no thanks.
I've always been a sucker for babies (ain't that right, Elle?). Put me in a room with one and there's not a chance that you'll get to hold it unless you've some sort of legal claim to the child. What can I say, there's something about the innocence and tenderness of children that appeals to me. But do I want my own? Hell no.
I love Tom and given that we see a future together, kids is something we've spoken about, albeit only loosely. We both think parenthood is something we'd like to do, but not for a very, very long time yet. When we talk about it, it's as an abstract concept and in a joking manner. That said, we did spend this morning going through the baby name column in the Herald Sun to see what the latest in bogan names was, my favourite being Maksymilian.
But twins? And soonish? Only if they can be rented - and returned at the end of the day.
I was so shell-shocked when we arrived at Ariel's that the first words out of my mouth were "Tom had a dream that we had twin boys!" She responded with an exclamation of delight. And then encouraged me to have said twins. Gah again. It capped off a week in which we've been encouraged to have children nearly a dozen times. And this after only 8 months!
It got me thinking. Is there some sort of biological questioning cycle at work here?
When you're single, everyone wants to set you up with someone. Have you met anyone lately? Are you getting out there? You should meet my cousin, he's just your type. The offers of bad blind dates camouflaged as good intentions are relentless. I am desperately trying to avoid turning into someone who does this to single friends.
Once coupled up, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the impromptu surveys would stop. No such luck. Is it serious? Where do you see it going? Has he said 'I love you' yet? Yet it's only when the honeymoon period is over that the invasive questions truly begin, as Tom and I discovered on Christmas day.
Surrounded by our nearest and dearest, we were asked when we were going to have kids. Erm, we'd only been going out 6 months at that point. How about not in the forseeable future? Undeterred, my uncle Fred began pouring shots of God Knows What and giving them to me, telling me that they were 'fertile shots'.
"MD, my darling, drink this. You know your Dad really wants to be a granddad. With this, you'll be knocked up by tomorrow!"
When I refused he moved in on Tom. He poured 'double strength' shots, which apparently would make Tom and I "so fertile, you won't even need to look at her!" And all this despite the fact that Fred's own daughter, at two years older than myself and in a 3-year relationship, is yet to have any herself.
It got worse on Australia Day. The gang converged on the park, those gathered ranging in age from 4 weeks to 64 years. As I offered to hold the month-old Amelie, it started again.
"So, looks like you guys will be next!"
"When are you going to have kids?"
"Maybe next time I see you, you'll be pregnant!"
GAH.
There's some sort of communal belief out there that if a couple are in a stable relationship they must be wanting of a child. I guess this tends to be exacerbated if, like me, you melt when in a 100-foot radius of an infant. This in itself has led to Deb placing a bet that I'll be pregnant within 2 years. Er, no thanks.
I've always been a sucker for babies (ain't that right, Elle?). Put me in a room with one and there's not a chance that you'll get to hold it unless you've some sort of legal claim to the child. What can I say, there's something about the innocence and tenderness of children that appeals to me. But do I want my own? Hell no.
I love Tom and given that we see a future together, kids is something we've spoken about, albeit only loosely. We both think parenthood is something we'd like to do, but not for a very, very long time yet. When we talk about it, it's as an abstract concept and in a joking manner. That said, we did spend this morning going through the baby name column in the Herald Sun to see what the latest in bogan names was, my favourite being Maksymilian.
But twins? And soonish? Only if they can be rented - and returned at the end of the day.
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