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Are You Trapped In A Weekend Rut?

The Weekend Slow Down

(Trapped In A Weekend Rut) I found my happy place this morning. Lately, it’s been missing. Most days lurking just within reach but not quite comfortable.

It turns out it was at the Saturday produce markets. Of course my happy place would be hanging out wherever a little bit of culture could be found. I should have known.

Slowing down and un–winding at the markets had not been my plan for the weekend. Twenty-four hours ago my plan had been the same as it is most weekends. The routine of getting up early, enjoying a quick coffee and hitting the study books to maximise my time and kick some goals is usually how it goes. It has become the norm, so much so that when people ask how my weekend was, it takes me a moment to remember what I actually did.

You could say I’m trapped in a bit of a weekend rut. I’m sure you know how that goes, being stuck in a rut. The burden of being required to do certain things because they have to get done, but never really wanting to do them. The problem being that because you don’t really want do them, nor appreciate them, it never really feels like you accomplish much of anything.

Luckily for me and my happy place, I came across two interesting snippets of information yesterday that helped me forge a new perspective. As I was reading Sophie Hansen’s ‘Friday List’ from Local Is Lovely, she reminded me that the local North Sydney Grower’s Market was happening. And sow the seed was planted (pun intended), because, how I do love the markets and a little adventure!

The second snippet was this article from Blog Society, another great resource I’ve been reading lately. She simply summed up how I’ve been feeling about being trapped in a weekend rut. It being something that comes with working full time and studying a degree whilst sustaining a relationship and attempting to create a fulfilling lifestyle.

Because, as I’m sure you know, it turns out that once you have a finger in too many pies, you find yourself being pulled in so many directions that you can’t quite decide which pie is your favourite. No less which pie you really want to choose. I mean please, I want to have my pie and eat it too. I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, do you?

With my sights set firmly on the markets, the sultry allure of a vibe that fosters creativity, awakens the wanderer inside and offers the chance to discover something new, I decided to follow the words of Blog Society and let myself take a break. I remembered that my body and soul needs a rest too.

And guess what happened; I found my happy place!

There was live music, fresh cut flowers, crisp French pastries, and crates of over-flowing colourful produce all wafting in the aroma of roasted coffee beans. For me, the Saturday markets was a little bit of paradise in the midst of everyday surrounds.

I toted my big woven basket bought specially for this kind of produce foraging and stocked up on my favourite organic lemon myrtle soap, some lovely blooms to lighten up the dining table and picked up some specialties for a creative and inspired weekend dinner.

But mostly, I just sat.

I sat, and I smiled, and I took it all in. I revelled in the moment and the beauty of life, appreciating that it was all a part of my life. I let myself enjoy the weekend in its purest form, the way it should be.

Naturally, it helped that the strums of a flamenco guitar could be heard in the background that was later joined by an electric fiddle. It gave the setting a unique gypsy vibe, something that’s often found in abundance in places like Byron Bay but not always so easily found in the busy hustle of Sydney city.

Suddenly the creative juices were flowing. The priorities seemed to organise themselves. The decisions no longer difficult, and the tasks no longer arduous. I returned home with a spring in my step to the beat of some sexy salsa, my tummy full of delicious food, a little sunshine by way of a bunch of gorgeous yellow sunflowers, and brimming with fresh resolve.

It was the perfect antidote to what was a busy week. Live in the moment and happiness abounds.

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>>> Do you find yourself trapped in a weekend rut every now and then?
>>> What do you do to ‘get away’ and live in the moment?

Do You Want To Be Time Rich?

Hello there! Do you like the new banner? I’m a little bit proud you see, I made it myself. With a program, on a computer. This is something just a little bit special. Because, I’m hopeless with computers. I have a MacBook Air now, it’s my baby. I got it because I spilt a cup of coffee on my old laptop and it died. See, hopeless with computers, case and point! Why am I telling you this? Firstly because I’m hoping that you can sympathise with me? I’m not the only one who struggles with technology am I? The other reason, because I’ve been dabbling with computers and stuff lately! Why, you ask? Because,

The Nanny Shecando blog has been updated!

A facelift, a new address, some changes here, some changes there; spring cleaning at it’s best. Today, on what is usually Photo Love Friday, I’m giving you the details and letting you in on a proposition for how I can make you more time rich!

We’ve Moved

Changes have been abound here at Nanny Shecando in the last few weeks. Incase you didn’t notice, we moved! Yep, that’s right. I’ll say it again, we moved! www.nannyshecando.com is the new home of Nanny Shecando and we’re liking it. Are you?

It’s been long process. Whilst we didn’t have to deal with the headache of packing boxes and the masking tape and removalist trucks, I still had those moments of Oh my. This is not good. What am I doing! I don’t know about you, but I know absolutely nothing about html and code. Until recently, my idea of a computer was: that it stored music, that it had Microsoft word to write last-minute assignments, and that it had internet access to Google. Pretty simply really. I have to admit, that last feature has been a lifesaver. Google has been my steady friend in the middle of the night during the moving process, answering all of my questions and helping me ride out the frustrations of but it should be working, why is it not working? The YouTube video said it would work!

Watch This Space

We still have many things to tweak and alter, many things to discover and trial, and many things to scrap in favour of a better alternative over time. So far the blogging journey has been an experimentation, and I have no doubt that it will continue to be so. I hope you can handle a bumpy ride at times and brave it out, because (teaser alert!) exciting and big things are coming your way c/o Nanny Shecando in the next few months.

A Proposition

I have a little proposition for you all. As I mentioned in an earlier post this year, life is busy. Life is hectic, frantic, jam-packed, exciting, nerve-wracking, memorable, special and unique. Each and every one of us has a million and one things to do each day, and not enough time to get them all done. I’ve often joked with a dear friend that if only we could sit down and build a contraption to slow down time, or to transport ourselves through time, we’d be less time poor and more time rich.

Subscribe To The Newsletter

In case you haven’t already, make sure you head over to the new home of Nanny Shecando (just click the link) and complete the form to make sure you are subscribed to get our updates. It’s as easy as popping in your first name and an email address. Two steps and you’re done. Plus, on the bottom of every email you receive will be an unsubscribe button, just incase an update once every other month feels a little too much like we’re going steady and you need to loosen your tie. I would hate for you to miss out on more of the cheeky grins of Elly-Belly, the yoghurt covered faces of The Zacetac, the antics of Miss Charlie and the cute(ness) of a rapidly growing Baby Viv. Speaking of rapidly growing Baby Viv, here’s some love ℅ it being Friday.

Today’s Friday Photo Love Instalment

This little precious is growing up so fast!

It feels like just yesterday that this little precious was sleeping in my arms all day. So little and adorable. Now she’s still adorable, just not so little.

We’re approaching the big 1st birthday in a few weeks, any tips for planning the most perfect little girl’s birthday party?

Also, what are your thoughts on my proposition. Like it or hate it? Is de-cluttering your inbox on your to-do list as well? Do you want to be less time poor and more time rich? And please, drop me an email or comment and tell me what you think of the new look Nanny Shecando (all feedback taken on board)!

This Six Year Old Calls People Fat

Fat People Can’t Fit Past Things Without Getting Squashed

[Their bums are too big!]

What happens when your six-year-old has no tact filter? I wither into the ground in embarrassment under the debilitating stare of evil eyes as she calls people fat. Yes, my six-year-old Miss Charlie called someone “fat” – to their face! And I die from embarasment. Awkward!

And she seems so sweet and innocent here right?

For most people, the arrival of 3 o’clock signals a change in the day. It marks the end of lunch time, the end of having ‘all the time in the world’ and marks the arrival of impending deadlines. For BossMum, 3pm marks the winding down of her day at the office, meaning she’ll soon be back with her babies. For The Twins, it means they are released from the confines of rigid lessons and join the creativity and self-expression that is ballet. To Beansie, the beloved family dog, it surely hints at the chance to stretch her legs at the park. If she’s lucky, it might also mean the opportunity to snaffle a momentarily forgotten sandwich or to chase after a too friendly bird.

For me, 3pm signals that any task not already finished will have to be left forgotten until the next day. Which lands me straight into the Witching Hour and puts me on the back foot before tomorrow has even arrived. For MissCharlie, it marks the beginning of an afternoon filled with unforeseen adventures.

In an effort to see the afternoon transition in an ease of smiles and giggles, our first stop is usually the milk bar to refuel with something sugary, milky or ice-creamy. Something that is definitely not healthy, but entirely tasty.

The next stop is the park, where she and Beansie wrestle around on the grass sharing I missed you so much slobbery kisses. It is where Baby Viv will toddle around, too inquisitive to rest her newly active but tired legs. The park is also the place where I will steal a self-indulgent go on the swings, indulging a childish side that I’m too fond of to part with.

All of this usually occurs under the excited conversations of Miss6 as she informs me of the day’s events. All that she’s learnt, all that she didn’t like, all that she saw in the school yard and all that she mischievously over heard throughout the day. Consequently, she often teaches me a few things whilst she’s at it, even if it is as simple as ‘I must not eavesdrop on conversations I’m not going to like the outcome of’.

This particular afternoon’s routine was no different, save for the slightly embarrassing occurrence of a loudly spoken faux pas. On Miss Charlie’s part of course!

As we wound our way through the throngs of mums and kids along the footpath en route to the park, Miss Charlie ducked and weaved until she successfully found herself out in front. I however, was caught trying to manoeuvre the pram, school bags and ice creams without tripping over the dog who’d wound her leash around my legs. Well played Beansie, because that will get you to the park quicker for sure.

MissCharlie then rather rambunctiously announced to all those within a 2km radius:

‘I love being little, I can fit past everyone and never get squashed!
Fat people can’t though, their bums are too big!’

Tact, what tact? I cringed. Oh MissCharlie, you and that mouth of yours. ‘Whatever will I do with you?‘. Of course, lacking in height myself, I completely agreed with her. I know all too well the advantages to being able to slip past people easily.

However, despite my understanding, her timing couldn’t have been any worse if she’d planned it. As I received the full force of evil eyes and disapproving glares from the family she’d just overtaken, a family who by chance just happened to be quite [large], I attempted to jump to her rescue. If not to save my own hide.

Easing her into safer territory, I announced as equally loud,

Good things come in small packages, just like you and me. Though not everyone can be so lucky.

To which she countered,

‘Yeah, like diamonds’.

Can’t argue with that wisdom now can I.

How to wither on the spot at the mercy of an evil eye; fun times in the #nannylife!

Anyone else died from embarrassment at the hands of their children lately?

1 Simple Tip For Travelling To Australia

A Five Year Old Talks Illegal Immigrants & Travelling To Australia

They’ll need a bigger boat!

I had a dinner date the other night. It involved some good food, a glass of something chilled and some vibrant conversation. These ingredients are typically my preferred way to spend a Friday night. Classy but casual clothes, a civilised atmosphere, and the focus being more upon the company and the conversation as opposed to the price of the tequila shots and how fast we can get drunk before we get cut off. Sigh. The only down side was that my company happened to be quite a few years below the legal drinking age. Bummer.

Resignedly, I substituted a glass of crisp Spanish white wine for a sippy cup of grape juice and passed over a lovely fresh salad for greasy pizza. Ham and Pineapple of course. Despite the changes, we still managed to laugh so hard we almost fell off our stools and successfully tipped over our drinks on more than one occasion. Falling over, spilling drinks, and slurring words is a standard Friday night by all accounts right?

In all seriousness, it was actually a pretty awesome Friday night. Chatting with the little munchkins, JP and CP, was highly entertaining. Especially considering we uncovered something vitally important, 1 simple and quick tip that I’m about to share with you, about how best to travel to Australia (if you’re an illegal immigrant per se).

I had jumped at the chance to do a last-minute babysit for these two rascals because I hadn’t seen them in ages, they had escaped the Australian summer for the cool ski slopes of the crisp American winter, the lucky ducks! Which of course meant that I had almost forgotten what it was like to be constantly challenged by little minds who know better and whom are fiercely independent.

In between crying over spilt juice and fighting over the bigger piece of pizza, we discussed whatever random thoughts popped in to their minds at the time. Apparently, this time we were embarking onto the somewhat touchy subject of illegal immigrants, because 5 and 8 year olds have opinions too.

Australia is a very lucky country. We’re an island which makes it a very safe place to live, said JP.

Plus all of our cities are along the coast which means that the Army and Navy and Police can easily protect us, said CP.

Not sure about this one. In theory, I would have thought it would be easier if we were all inland. But props for contributing!

We don’t have many immigrants (pronounced: im – i – grens) in our country. Not as many as America. They’re not an island like us, said JP.

That’s right, they have Canada and Mexico on each side. (Geography seemed a safer topic than to speculate on the number of illegal immigrants).

They need a boat to come here to Australia. A big boat, not a dinghy, said CP.

I stifled a giggle as it reminded me of a classic insurance advert: Charter Boat, What Charter Boat? Yes well sometimes their boats are big, but they’re very old. It depends where they’re coming from too, I countered. Where do you think they’re coming from?

..[pause]..[blank look]..[ignore the question]..

Yeah! That’s why a lot of them get rescued by the Navy. They don’t have good boats and they don’t get very far, said JP. A dinghy wouldn’t even get half way. Not like our boat. Our boat is really big. We go to Fiji all the time in our boat!

Right, as you do. And yes, that last comment came from Miss5, the not so tactful CP. Just an ordinary and typical Friday night in the #nannylife: getting it all out on the table on the topic of boating to Fiji, opinions, America and illegal immigrants. Like I said, ordinary!

When has your little one brought up a dicey topic like this? How did you handle it?

This Is How A Toddler Eats Spaghetti

The Zacetac: A Toddler Eating Spaghetti

Ever wondered how a toddler eats spaghetti?
Ha, that’s funny. I toddler never does anything it doesn’t want to do.
Also, they never do anything in the same way they did previously.
But when they eat spaghetti, it goes a little something like this:

There is all of this red food stuff on my face.
Somebody please tell me why there is even food in my ears.
I just don’t understand!