PACKING IT IN

I've been contemplating this for a while and I've finally made my decision.

Today I say goodbye to this little blog. Today I bid you all my dear readers, a farewell.

Quite simply, I'm just too busy to even try to put words together on a regular basis. This last year I've transposed a few words on this blog just to be able to say that I've contributed. Alas the reality is, my mind is flooded with lots of material, but I can't find the time nor the relaxing silence to write it out effectively. Consequently, I've come to the conclusion that I. Am. Not. A. Blogger. I can't spin shit out of my arse regularly and so far I've only accomplished a conservative number in audience and very few comments each post. Let's get real here, I really don't have anything to profoundly illustrate anymore.

The light in my lamp has diminished.

And I couldn't care less. Really, I don't. This is no attempt at me being a victim and trying to hoodwink any sympathy votes and comments in order to continue. I simply have engaged in other activities in my life and writing in blogging form has not taken a priority.

I truly believe that blogging is for certain people or situations. For those who inspired me in the first place to write: The primary and secondary infertility community, the pregnant journeys and the established mummy bloggers. For those who would otherwise write in a diary, the ones who reach out in an educating and supporting circumstance and offer information. The cooks, the fashionista's and the inspiring writers/journalists trying to forge a widespread audience in order to be classified as authors.

I don't have any ambition in blogging anymore.

My week in general is spent: working, going to the gym, entertaining my son, being a conscientious housewife, spending time with extended family, socialising and very soon undertaking another tertiary qualification to further my skills. If I have some spare time, I might make love or watch a movie or read a book or knit or sleep or just stare into space.

I could have just disappeared, not posted and none would have been the wiser. I'm just offering an unpretentious explanation. The blog won't be deleted and it will remain in the Internet for anyone to find. For those in the darkness searching, and then a whisper trickles in their heart after they read my infertility story and it inspires them to hope and have faith again.

Or maybe they need a recipe for Galaktoboureko.

Or accidentally found their way here after googling arse, bum, cunt or fuck... weirdos.

I'll still be stalking and reading your blogs even if I now comment as 'anonymous'. If you would like to continue our shenanigans together and correspond more personally, just like I have done with others, please contact me on:

backache7@hotmail.com

"Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened."

~ Dr. Seuss

"When another blogger can get over 600 comments writing about stuffed weasels, that is when I know I'm in the wrong business and should be utilising my time to scratch my minge instead"

~ Athena

Handwriting

When was the last time you wrote? Actually wrote with a pencil or pen in your hand? I can't remember, maybe last weeks shopping list?

How fucking boring - cheese, milk, bread ....

Edenland is a legend blogger and came up with this fanfuckingtastic idea for a meme of sorts and linking up with other bloggers. Every Saturday she will put up a theme that anyone can contribute to. I know it's Monday, but I've finally taken my finger out of my arse, and I promised her I would participate. So here is my effort. I've always liked this quote about children reading. I encourage my son often to pick out a book and I read it to him.

I hope reading books doesn't become perfunctory just like handwriting has become.

The kids at my work often describe and associate my handwriting with graffiti, the tagging kind. I wonder what my tag would have been in my youth?

"Children want to do what the grown ups do. Children should learn that reading is pleasure, not just something that teachers make you do in school"

~ Beverly Cleary.

Welcome To My Humble Abode You Magnificent Tarts

Since writing my last post and finally celebrating the inclusion of being in a motherhood brigade, I had this earth shattering realisation. Most of the mothers I know are not In My Real Life. Sure I have girlfriends who became mothers waaaaay before I did and they are still integral in my life with information and support. However, all of them live far and it's very rare to physically meet up and share a conversation about parenting with a hot beverage in hand (or an alcoholic variety) as other life and personal situations take priority . The majority of information, support and even a good laugh out loud moment is me sitting at a desk, reading words and staring at photos on the computer - sharing life stories with other mothers.

I'm not sure whether that is fucking sad or what?

All of these women I first "met" on the web via a birth club forum. A forum that I was already part of when I was trying to conceive and also as a miscarriage survivor. Nowadays we are all part of an exclusive and definitely not elusive group of mothers on the Fac.ebook. A much more easily accessible social network with the addition of privacy and protection for the information we disclose and the photos of ourselves and our children that we post.

If I have an issue with toilet training - I go to this group.

If I want some support and reassurance about returning to study whilst still tackling motherhood, wifehood and working part time and everything else in between - I go to this group.

If I want to share ideas, offer my knowledge or just a plain old vent - I go to this group.

If I want to spray my coffee on my computer screen because someone made me piss my pants laughing - I go to this group.

If I just want to lose myself for just a minute in the beautiful community of mothers who don't judge you - I go to this group.

Most of all, the surface of who these women are resonates what I believe they would be like In Real Life - strong, compassionate, creative, selfless, humble, caring, beautiful, and awesome women.

Thanks girls for completing me and being such an important influence in my role as a mother.

You bunch of fucking magnificent tarts!

If we ever do meet in person and you are invited to my home, I will indulge you with this classic Greek appetizer or snack.

~~~~~~

Spanakopita- Cheese & Spinach Pie

Ingredients
 
12 sheets filo pastry

120g butter, melted
1/4 cup (60ml) olive oil
1 or even 2kg baby spinach (depending how much you love the spinach)
250g feta cheese, crumbled
150g ricotta cheese
1 brown onion, finely chopped
1 bunch shallots, finely chopped (optional)
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tbs chopped dill
4 eggs, beaten

Method
 
1. Heat oil in a fry pan, then add onion, shallots and garlic. Cook for 1 minute until softened, then add spinach and half the dill. Cook, stirring, over low heat for 1-2 minutes or until spinach has wilted. Drain in a colander and cool, then combine with cheeses, eggs, salt and pepper.

2. Preheat oven to 180°C. Brush a 2 1/2-litre baking dish with butter. Lay one sheet of filo on base and sides and brush with butter. Repeat with 5 more sheets. Spread cheese mixture over top. Cover with remaining filo, brushing each sheet with butter. Trim excess pastry with kitchen scissors and tuck edges into sides of dish. Brush top with butter and score lightly with knife.

OR

Roll the filling to create a dim sim look.

OR

Fold the filling into individual triangle shapes.

Bake for 45 minutes or until golden colour. Rest for a few minutes. Can be eaten hot or room temperature.

This recipe can be substituted for any ingredients you prefer, it is so versatile!

~~~~~

This post is also dedicated to Ants - Making Baby Giraffes, who finally welcomed her long awaited baby girl in December 2011. She asked me for this recipe a very long time ago. Spanakopita is great for a light snack when you are too buggered to cook. The spinach content is also high in iron and perfect for vitamin intake whilst breastfeeding.

Image Credit

Kindred Spirits

As the fireworks drizzled to an airy smoke and the hung-over nursed their weary heads, the year 2008 was born. The year that my expectations of assisted conception came to a formidable and overwhelming end.

Empty wallets with nothing to show for it.

No baby to cuddle and love.

2008 was the beginning of a new adventure. I had not given up on trying to conceive. Pfft! Why would I since I was hard at it for 5 years at this point? What was another 5 more? Although I was heading towards the fucked up age of 35, when supposedly my fertility would come crashing down to A Few Good Eggs rather than an Easter Parade. 2008's resolutions included the gym, Chinese herbs, a positive attitude, and the death to bitterness and jealousy.

The basket of eggs would be replaced with HOPE.

In 2008 I accomplished all my resolutions and by New Years Eve, the magical 2 lines presented themselves on a pee stick. Albeit rewind the time to mid-year as I cried rivers over a miscarriage. Although even that disastrous experience gave me a sprinkle of faith.

This post isn't about that journey. Most of you already know it. No, the beginning of 2008 was an invitation to a relatives second child, 1st birthday party.

I didn't attend the party.

As much as my resolutions were in my head, they were still fresh. My heart was tired and my soul haggard. 5 years of infertility forced me into a black hole. As much as I felt and hoped that I would't be there for long, I enjoyed it - the darkness and serenity. No kids birthday party was going to shake that reverie away from me. I had already endured the first child's birthday's and Christening, and all the other celebrations that family and friends gather around for. I was always the only one amongst their fruitful and abundant fertile friends with an empty womb, empty arms and an empty heart.

I wasn't ready and my bullshit smiles were becoming redundant.

Fast forward to Present Day, this Sunday this child will be turning 5 years old.

I will be attending the party.

I will be attending the party with my husband.

I will be attending the party with my son.

I will walk amongst the people in the crowd with a twinkle in my step.

I will hold my beverage up high and wish the little girl a lifetime of happiness.

I will watch my son play with the other children; full of joy and spirit.

I will walk up to my husband and wrap my arms around his waist and immerse myself in a conversation about toilet training mishaps and textures of poo. I will pretend to give a shit and debate the benefits of whether my child will be attending a public or private school.

I will then go to the privacy of the toilet and cry. Cry of happiness that finally I can enjoy a kids birthday party without scorn and venom plastered all over my face nor distress for my predicament.

I will then go home, put up my feet and remember that it was not about being associated or accepted with a certain crowd but that I now was a proud member of a primordial kinship.

Kindred Spirits of Motherhood.

Galaktoboureko

I don't know about you, but these rare Summer days are making me want to sit back with a classic book and indulge my sweet tooth whilst I feel my arse get bigger. I'm not talking about sweaty armpits, "I. Want. To. Die. In. A. Pool" stinky heat but that laid back variety as I observe The Boy play with his new Christmas present Nerf water gun aiming for Shooters balls. I'm over this wind "knock my toupee off" campaign that this weather has brought to our beautiful beachy shores of Aystraya and What. The. Fuck is it with this chill? Seriously, I had to walk out the door the other day with my hoodie on (because I'm old and my ears get cold)

The sweet I'm talking about is Mama Jenny's evil nemesis The Galaktoboureko. The only dish she cannot master. It's not extremely difficult to cook, but one that is a challenge and it could go in the toilet for the frogs to eat or fed to my Kangaroo pets in my backyard if it fails miserably.

Galaktoboureko (γαλακτομπούρεκο) is a Greek dessert of semolina-based custard in filo pastry. It may be made in a pan, with filo pastry layered on top and underneath, or rolled into individual servings. It is coated with a sweet syrup.

Its name is derived from the words gala (γάλα; milk in Greek) and bourek (Turkish word burek: pie or pastry). ~ Wikipedia.

Ingredients:


1 Packet Filo Pastry
250g butter – 50g for the cream and the rest for the filo
1 litre fresh milk
2/3 cup fine semolina
1/3 cup thick semolina
Grated rind from 2 lemons or oranges
4 eggs
2 vanilla essence
½ teaspoonful grated cinnamon


For the Syrup

2 cups water
3 ½ cups sugar
3 sticks of cinnamon
3 slices lemon peel or oranges
1 tablespoonful syrup
15 cloves plus some extra for the filo


Method:


Remove the filo from the fridge and let it come to room temperature.
Simmer the milk in a large pan with the sugar and the semolina, stirring continuously until the mixture starts to thicken.
Lower the temperature and add the eggs one at a time whilst stirring vigorously.
Allow the mixture to thicken whilst stirring continuously.
Add the remaining ingredients for the cream.
Set the cream aside, covering it with cling film which is in contact with the cream so as that it doesn’t form a crust.
Melt the butter.
Spread half of the filo on the bottom of a large round oven dish and spread melted butter on it.

Spread the cream on top of the filo.
Place the remaining filo, spread with melted butter, on top of the cream.
Cut round the edge of the oven dish to remove the extra filo.
Fold the filo over the edge of the oven dish.
Butter the surface.
With a sharp knife, score the top of the filo diagonally into portion sizes. In the centre of each portion place a clove.
Bake the galaktoboureko in a preheated moderate oven at 180 degress for up to 45 minutes or until it has a golden colour.
Allow it to cool and cut it where it has been scored, whilst it is still in the oven dish.

Preparation of Syrup


Put the water and sugar in a large pan.
Add the rest of the ingredients for the syrup and boil gently for 20 minutes.
Pour the syrup on top of the galaktoboureko, allowing it to be absorbed. Better to do this after the galaktoboureko is completely cool.
When serving, sprinkle some ground cinnamon on top of each portion (optional).

I also like to follow up my taste buds with this:

Greek Frappe

“He who indulges - bulges”

~ Anonymous

Welcome 2012! I promise to be a good girl and eat healthy food!!

Image Credit

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