I'll Stop the Car...

I had three near misses in the car on the way to work this morning. Yes three. It wasn't good and each and every time I'd been distracted from the peak hour traffic by the kids. They've turned into little ferals in the car.

It can't go on. Something must be done. So on the way home this afternoon I instigated stopping the car.

I know.

It took over an hour to get home.

Tantrums were had over...

1. No chocolate biscuits available


2. Mummy singing


3. Bugalugs taking off her shoe


4. Bugalugs taking off her other shoe


5. What ever it was that was eaten for lunch today - never actually got to the bottom of this one, suffice to say it was yucky and had us stopping outside a church whose billboard said Life is Short, Eternity isn't - at that moment Life seemed rather long actually, and eternity kind of peaceful.


6. Mummy asking if anyone had a nice day (nobody cared a bit that Mummy had a long and tiring day and would quite like to listen to the radio and hum along a bit).

Each and every time the tantrums started I stopped the car - after growling I'll stop the car several times (okay at least fifteen), just like my Mother used to.

I have been considering stopping the car and getting out so I don't have to be deafened by the furious shrieks, but don't think that's fair on Bugalugs, who just sits, sucking her thumb and taking it all in for use in future performances.

sigh.

Eclipse

Beanie-baby, Hubby and I have spent the evening watching the eclipse of the moon. One of the photos I took, the other I lifted off an astronomy website. Guess which is which!

The significance of the 'clipse pretty much passed Beanie-baby by. Hubby had explained to her very seriously exactly what was happening, but when asked where the sun was (in order to cast the shadow on the moon) she just shrugged and said "I dunno!" I've suggested we leave astronomy lessons until she's mastered, well, counting above ten, but Hubby is not convinced.

All Miss Beanie-baby was interested in was that she got to sit on the bonnet of the car and chat with Daddy for an hour.

She's had a busy day, Miss Beanie. Playgroup this morning meant two hours filled with trips to the loo and birthday cake - two of her most favourite things at the moment. Then Nonna and Grandpa popped in to inspect The Hole in the patio. When The Hole looked like it might be garnering more attention that her, she easily upstaged it by attempting to push in Miss Bugalugs.

Grandpa has saved the day and will be arriving on Saturday (post my book signing) with sand and tools to fill in The Hole. This is excellent news. For a nasty moment it looked like Hubby may have attempted the job, and frankly we can't afford hospital bills at the moment. Instead Hubby will hover about on the perimeter, looking useful but not actually doing anything (a forte of his). This way all digits will remain attached, and nearby items (such as clothes on the washing line, or bits of fence) will not be press-ganged as hole fillers.

Godloveim.

Spring is sprung

Its going to be 27 tomorrow - 27 degrees! Spring has definitly sprung, the Jasmine is out, smelling divine and we spent all today in the garden.

In a rush of horticulturalism I've joined the diggers club, and ordered lovely organic and heirloom seeds. Am determined that this year they won't be food for snails. Am declaring war on snails.

Have also fertilized the garden. With pelletized chook poo. My god the smell. The dog is in heaven.

sigh

Sinking slowly into the Septic

Hmm, could be a euphamism for my life, but alas is in fact a reference to the entire patio.

The Hole is under the lattice - which is my carefully crafted child-proofing measure. As you can see Miss Bugalugs has been testing it for me.

Its slowly been getting deeper and deeper, so in a moment of madness yesterday we dug it up. My suburb was connected to the sewer about thirteen years ago (according to Louise next door - and beleive me there ain't much Louise doesn't know about our street - she also told me they found a buried car when they dug the hole for our pool - a car!). When the septic was made redundant it was up to the home owner to fill it in and cover over. Only the previous owners did a less than perfect job and now we have The Hole, filled with rubble and water, slowly eating the patio.

Sigh.

Miss Bugalugs is perfectly safe by the way!

Yes the procrastinating continues...

I've just found the blog of a woman with 7 (yes SEVEN) children. It is hysterical.

Highly recommend a read.

Hmm...

Well facebook has palled. Now I'm doing online quizzes.

You Are Miss Piggy

A total princess and diva, you're totally in charge - even if people don't know it. You want to be loved, adored, and worshiped. And you won't settle for anything less. You're going to be a total star, and you won't let any of the "little people" get in your way. Just remember, piggy, never eat more than you can lift!

The Muppet Personality Test

A new distraction

Oh joy, I've discovered a new distraction. Facebook. Am networking my little heart out. Have discovered many people from my past, only am not sure I actually want to talk to them. Having them safely tucked away is a bit easier.

Do I really want to make contact with all these people who knew me when I was young and reckless? Hmm.

Have also made mortifying discovery that I can't remember any of my ex-boyfriends surnames. Bizzare no? First names no problem, I can even list them in chronological order, and to be honest its not like we're talking that many here. Cannot remember a single surname. Am refusing to go and find old address books which will have them written down.

Not my week.

It's not been my week. Had news a couple of days ago a dear friend in England died following complications from surgery. Have sent Tim Tams and love and hugs to his wife. What more can I do? I wish there was something. Its horrible grief, it sort of nags at you and follows you around, bubbling up unexpectedly.

I'm trying to write a delicate love scene between my hero and heroine in High Speed, but I can't. The scene is about a rosy future, love, and most of all hope. Grief happens when there is no hope, when its all finished and there's nothing more to look forward to. I keep trying to write this scene, but time and again the hero and heroine look at each other and have nothing to say. They're in the back of a taxi, and no matter how much I push them together, they pull apart and end up staring quietly out the window with a chasm of silence between them.

I think I'll leave them to it.

Taking Berowra by Storm

Yes, am featured in Bush Tele as promised - pg 7. Was hoping for front page but have been upstaged by sweaty fellows chopping wood.

sigh.

Mary - Jane

Mary-Jane and I used to have offices opposite to one another. If it wasn't for that I don't think we'd ever have got to know each other. She'd wander past and would stop in for a discussion. Mary-Jane had excellent discussions.

She as the sort of person who beleived in things. Really beleived in them. Put her money where her mouth was, and went out there to fight for them. Equal opportunities for woman was her major passion, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. Equality for everyone, the environment... she was passionate about it all.

She loved politics, though I can clearly remember her utter horror when she was nearly elected to local government - she'd run just for the experience - never expecting she'd actually get anywhere. I reckon she was planning a move into that arena down the track. She'd have been good too - the one characteristic that outshone all the others was her integrity.

She influenced me alot, she showed me that it way okay to stand up and fight for what I was entitled for. When I commenced world war three with my workplace over my maternity leave she supported me all the way.

Mary-Jane died on Friday. She'd been treated for melanoma but the cancer spread to her liver and in the end it only took a few weeks. I still cannot beleive she is gone. She was only a few years older than me and had so much more to give.

Bloody Hell.

I'll miss her.

Help, stop, I need a minute...

Life is belting along in extreme fast forward at the moment. I'll crabbily admit to being over-wrought, over-tired and just over-everything.

I mean I should be on top of the world, and I am, its just Miss Bugalugs had me up at 4.30am and its been a looong day at work, plus I'm working every spare minute on marketing, promotion, book submissions and actual writing. Its times like these I really need hubby, and true to form he's stepped up to the mark and taken over without turning a hair.

Somewhere in this exhausted haze I'm mighty chuffed. Running Scared has got FOUR blue ribbons from Romance Junkies and a most excellent review. Its up on the website, but I'll put the pertinent bit here as well, just so I can re-read and gloat a bit more.

Caitlyn Nicholas has created a story packed with twists and turns. RUNNING SCARED keeps you guessing until the end. She has created interesting, real characters and the plot raises many social issues as well as being a good read. This book will open many people’s eyes. RUNNING SCARED is a good multi-layered book that has mass appeal - it has something for everyone to enjoy.

I'm also a featured author on Romance Junkies - there's supposed to be a photo there as well, but I, ahem, forgot to send it. I've sent one today so maybe they'll put it up late for me!

More about photos...

More exciting news today, the North Shore Courier is interested in doing an article about Running Scared, am hastily cobbling together a press release to send.

AND

They're considering sending their social photographer to my book launch. Yes, my five minutes of fame has finally, finally arrived. Come to the book launch and bask with me!

11am, 1st September, Leisure Readers Bookshop, 8 Edgeworth David Avenue, cnr Edgeworth David and Pacific Highway, opposite Westfield and next door to the tennis centre.

World's Oldest Blogger

She lives in Woy Woy, she's 107 and with the help of Mike she blogs!

Check out one of the sweetest blogs there is. All about Olive.

Guest Blogging Today at Breastfeeders Anonymous

Yes, my dear friend Rach! has invited me to whinge at length about my trials and tribulations when I was breast feeding. Poor gal. I think even she underestimated my capacity to blather on about myself!

I encourage you all to surf over there and have a read - there's a photo. Yes. Having managed thus far without plastering images of myself all over the internet I appear to have had a rush of blood (or something) and am featured twice in two days. Its the heady odour of celebrity I think. I'm to be featured in the Bush Tele you know...

Not that it'll change me!

LINK

Okay I never thought I'd end up like this.

Hubby and I have had an amusing evening.

We needed to take a photo you see, for the local paper. Usually they'd do it themselves but time is against us so hubby and I had to make do. Alas we are completely clueless when it comes to taking photos.

So, we've taken about one hundred pictures, all of me, and so far have three that I could live with! Am knackered, not very good at smiling in the first place and have my lippy on wonky, and WHERE exactly has my neck gone? oh how I love photos.

Sigh.


I'll stick the link up when I achieve every author's greatest dream - to be featured in the Bush Tele! I know you're all so proud!

I'm a FABULOUS writer!

It's true, I am. If you don't believe me just check out my post on the Samhain Publishing weblog.

Author signing - 1st September 2007

Hurray! We have a date. My book launch/author signing will be at 11am on Saturday 1st September! Though I expect I'll be at Leisure Readers all day. The address is 8 Edgeworth David Ave, Hornsby 2077.

And look out for me in the Bush Tele as well.

Back from the Conference

Oh it was SO good, I met so many wonderful people and listened to amazing speakers and found out that I am a fabulous writer and spent rather a lot on books and won a raffle (more books) and ate lots and lots of really yummy stuff and gossipped with everyone about everything and compared notes on every subject under the sun and met all these amazing people and it was just great.

Of course I wanted to email all the people that I met, but was too over-excited about it all to remember anyone's names. Can remember key things about them, eg, has TB, had near death experience (cold grey tunnel, fought to come back and did - yes, I got goosebumps too), but no names. Anyone who I met and wants too say hi, pleeeese email me and excuse my sieve like brain.

Oh oh and people bought Running Scared and they wanted signatures, and other people saw me giving signatures like a real author and everyfink...

Still shattered though, and spent entire day cleaning house after three days of mayhem, and only half way there...

sigh!

Turbans are back in...

Have been reading shop-till-you-drop magazine. Turbans are back in.

Were they ever out? I hear you ask.

Apparently yes - which'll be news to the housemistress at the boarding school I attended (to be straightened out as an unruly teenager - didn't work). She loved a turban. Bliss her surname was. Bliss. Unsurprisingly she wasn't.

Now I'm not one for the fashion mags, I much prefer the salacious gossip ones. Pictures of stick thin models wearing clothes I could never afford, let alone squeeze my ample buttocks into... okay, okay, too much information... Lets just say that I won't be using my $10 voucher for a mettalic shift dress from some cutsy boutique located in Paddington. I'd much rather be pouring over the trials and tribs of Britters, oh how I'd love to shave my head and attack a car with an umbrella (was it? well an implement of some sort). Not to mention that Lindsey Lohan, shocking. Dr Phil has volunteered to sort HER out, excellent, that'll do marvels for his ratings!

Hmm...

Am about to launch into New Woman Magazine, soon I'll know all about Fish Pedicures (do fish have nails I wonder), and The anti-aging jam (pleeese be raspberry, pleeeese.)

Going to the conference...

Eeeeeeee, just two more sleeps until everyone rocks up to the Sheraton and we commence the Romance Writers of Australia conference.

Am rather excited, and no not just because I get to have a weekend off the kids.

Can't decided what I'm looking forward to most, I think probably meeting everyone, particularly new e-friends and other Samhain authors, but just being there is going to be such fun as well. Cannot wait to meet Jennifer Crusie, she had an awesome post up on her blog just lately, about how her life was pottering along in one direction, and quite suddenly has taken off in another. I can so relate to that.

We writers are a bit of an odd bunch, I think probably because we spend a lot of time thinking about things, it makes us (okay me), prone to saying strange things. Sometimes its nice to hang out with a bunch of people who just understand. I know they all understand me. They all met me last year, even though I was surviving on no sleep and partying on at 10pm after a 3.30am start. (Believe me, I was getting to the point where I was doing Apu from the Simpsons impressions). You've all read my overtired blogposts - you know how bad I can be!

Bring back Big Brother

Waaaah! I miss Big Brother, its 7pm and there is NOTHING on the telly. I'm currently watching the ABC News and it is causing me to shout at the television. I hate people who shout at the television. I never ever shout at the telly. But, the news is blaming today's interest rate rise for some poor soul closing down their CD business. Kerist almighty.

I just want to know how Aleshia and Zac are doing, and Joel. Joel never did anything and if he was supposed to be a comedian he wasn't a very good one, but I still miss him.

Aaaah, yup.

I need to get a life.

Running Scared - in stock at Amazon

Running Scared is in stock at Amazon. For some reason it is telling people with pre-orders that it won't be shipped until early October. If that's you, cancel the order and do another one. You should have it by the end of August!

Hurray!

Yes, and if you could just patronise me a little more...

According to SMH speeding in a car is an accident risk for men, but for women, having 'emotional' conversations on the phone whilst driving is more of a problem.

Dr Irwin said the research highlighted the need to remind women of the dangers of talking on mobile phones - even with hands-free sets - while driving. "[And] don't break up with your boyfriend while you are driving."

Words fail me.

Breastfeeders Anonymous

My mate Rach! has written a book on breastfeeding. She's having a launch party and doing lots of blogging over at http://breastfeedersanonymous.blogspot.com/.

Stop by and post a comment and you might even win a copy.

Commute from Hell

Potty training has commenced in the Nicholas household. So far the much anticipated event has gone relatively smoothly, with the odd accident here and there but no real dramas. However, we've been sticking pretty close to home and trips out have been taken at times when the traffic hasn't been too bad.

Until this morning. It all began to go wrong around six, everyone slept in, bags weren't ready and so we bundled out of the house, twenty minutes late, and with the essential, unforgettable question unasked. "Do you need to go to the toilet?"

Sigh.

We hit the very middle of peak hour. And it was a bad peak hour, millions of cars all going along very very slowly. So, there we are, languishing in a traffic jam when a little voice pipes up, "toilet please..."

Aaaagh.

So I give up my precious spot in the queue, dive into a side street, drag child out of car, point to bush and let nature take its course. Only it doesn't. Not a drip or a drop. False alarm, or possibly performance anxiety.

We pile back into the car, and join endless traffic again, only ten minutes behind where we were before. I am not convinced that all is well in the back seat and keep a nervous banter going hoping to distract child. Then, on a six lane main road, trying to turn right at traffic lights and blocked to the left by a truck and three more lanes of traffic the little voice pipes up again... "Mummy, toilet please..."

Oh My God.

We sat there, through three changes of the lights, then the next five sets of lights were red and one set was even blacked out (charged through it, sometimes largeness of car is good for something and it was an emergency). Sweating blood, stressing out, driving like a maniac and at the same time keeping up cheerful chatter to distract small thoughts from straining bladder. Arrive at day care, drag two children and five bags out of car into childcare centre, throw all through door, grab small, about to burst person, tear off clothes (hers) and with a sigh of relief place upon toilet.

Nothing.

Not a drip, not a drop.

"Mummy, you dropped all the bags on the floor," she lectures me.

Sigh.

World War Three

World War Three is still going on at my house. GOD. I just can't believe how difficult this mother thing can be. Take today for instance. Its just been exasperated me and crabby shouty small people.

Even before the end of Playschool it was falling apart, why oh why do my children have to inhabit the same fifty centimetres of space, and why do they have to scream at each other all the time?

So, I bundle everybody into the car and whisk them off to the local cafe to bribe them into good behaviour with babycino's and cake with sprinkles. It worked beautifully, hurrah! I mean the cafe was fairly trashed when we left, and I bumped into people I knew with unwashed hair, tracksuit pants, sneakers, and t-shirt covered in various substances including porridge, playdough, drool etc... etc... but we had peace and harmony for half an hour. Then I pushed my luck.

Went to the supermarket.

Yes.

I should've known better.

They managed to fight about who sat where in the trolley for the full ten minutes it took me to get milk, cheese and an avocado. Then, I'm waiting whilst the checkout chick puts stuff in my bag, and with a glance at me she tosses my avocado into the bag with a dull splat. I'd had enough. Spat the dummy.

"LOOK what you have done to my avocado." I snarl, fishing it out of the bag.

"Aw, get another one then," she snarls back.

"Well you look after the children then," I say, storming off in the direction of the Avocado aisle.

She doesn't of course. They're heading for the carpark with the trolley by the time I return and I have to shriek at them to stop.

This of course when I recognise the mum at the next checkout.

sigh.