Archive | January, 2014

I’m Baaaaaaaaaack

31 Jan

Said in that voice of that person who played that character that may or may not have been in the movie The Shining, or Poltergeist. I have no idea and google isn’t being very cooperative tonight. Regardless folks. I’m back.

From ten days of business class (not to be confused with ‘business time’ – of which I had, quite rightly, zilch), fabulous friends, fine food, fine wine, a wedding, a hen’s night (not in that order, cause that would just be weird), and a reunion of sorts, with ma and pa.

All SANS children.

Sans my children, and sans your children. Not sans all of the people I met up with’s children – but sans a lot. And in business class, from Seoul to Auckland, when I arrived in my seat on the second floor – sans every child ever born. Insane man. That place is IN fuckin SANE. No more than five minutes after boarding I was listening to violin music and sipping bubbles, oblivious to the chaos that must have followed that family of five on with their newborn and two toddlers.

In my yoga pants, thermal socks, ugg boots and ugly but comfy ten-dollar jersey.

But alas, I didn’t ‘rock’ business class. I’m too ‘under privileged’ for that. Or is it ‘over privileged’? I’m not sure. But on the first leg, from Fukuoka to Seoul I somehow got put in prestige prestige (as opposed to just the one prestige). Seated in the very front row of seats in the plane the pilot, or first captain or whatever, himself came out to say hello and thank us for flying. He only did it to me and the two Prada suit dressed men in the other two front row seats.

I felt ‘THIS’ stupid *holds thumb and forefinger up in a pinch like gesture*.

FUCK – I didn’t mean under privileged before, I think I meant un-entitled?? Felt like my cover would be blown, that I didn’t actually fly business class normally (as if this fact wasn’t blatantly obvious anyway as spent ten minutes trying to locate headphone  plug hole thingy) – and that perhaps there was a flashing sign somewhere that said ‘hey, I usually fly back there, but after ten years of flying ‘back there with screaming children’, I have spent all my air miles upgrading to flying utopia’.

Oh, and forgive the yoga pants. The Prada ones were at the cleaners.

Can you even pur-chase Prada yoga pants?

However, to put a damper on things, I’m not a great flier. full stop. Turbulence has me saying hail mary’s in my head – and I’m not religious so I have to make that shit up, which is OK I think, as it all involves the words God and please and ‘If you don’t let me die’ I’ll do A, B,C and Z, PLUS actually follow through on that diet AND be a nicer, more Montessori type, mum to my kids… etcetera.

Arriving in Auckland (all refreshed and moisturized with that free lotion and eye gel you get in business class – not that I’m rubbing it in or anything… ok, so I rubbed the free lotions and gel in), I had THE FASTEST EVER immigration run through known to man.

My passport has a chip. A chip means you can go through immigration via machine and smiling into a camera. I can’t do this usually cause Marina and Ryu’s passports are the old kind sans the chip. I saw my bag as I was coming down the stairs to baggage claim. I mean seriously, prestigious class gets you ‘priority’ tags and that shit comes out the conveyor belt FIRST. There was NO trying to make  deranged ,over-tired children NOT STEP past the red line, jump on the belt, pat the drug dog, ask to see the security man’s badge etc etc.

And then – would you fuckin believe and without even having to advertise ample breast size, my bags didn’t even have to go through the security scan check thing – which on a post, on a blog, years ago I bitched and bitched about – cause the  big bloke manning you putting the luggage on the scanner belt thing wouldn’t help me – despite the fact I actually asked him. In English, Maori, Samoan and Fijian. Sorry Mam, he said. I don’t care that you have a baby trying to rip your glasses off, a toddler trying to get on the conveyor belt, and a three-year old who it appears has already run through the departure gate. Nah. Do it yourself. Osh kosh rules. We can’t lift anything over 20kg.

OK, fair game. Probably just OSH rules, not rules of kiddy clothing brand but still – think of them every time I think of that lovely experience. I had a great time swearing obscenities in Japanese. Bloody Fuckwits. FA-KIN-KAN-TO.

ANYHOO, I got shooed down lane five. Lane five has NOTHING. Nada. No dogs, no scanning machines, no overweight unhelpful scanning conveyor belt dudes, NADA.  You just waltz straight on out the departure gate – which in Auckland means your arrival is displayed on a HUGE screen to everyone waiting on the other side. Every last-minute nose pick, clothes fix, cheek fart – it’s all broadcast live to the other side. LOVE THAT.

And in my case the other side was my sister and three nieces, two balloons and a sign that said ‘Welcome Auntie Kate’.


Best welcome EVER.

Loved every second.

Let the journey begin…



Long Weekend

13 Jan

Long weekend here. Today is coming of age day which used to involve at least 18 minutes of prime news time showing pissed out of control 20-year-old yankee (the Japanese kind not the American kind)  types. Things must have calmed down a bit. That or it’s just the fact the TV was on kids morning TV. That must be it.

Hub had wannabe fire brigade stuff for Saturday and Sunday. Once a year they have to prance round a field in their uniforms – with different branches on prancing around, working the hose, and driving noddy fire trucks. I used to take the kids cause there’s like cool trucks and hoses and water and horns and shit. Was kinda hoping someone would start selling takoyaki octopus balls, the Japanese equivalent of hotdogs, so I could turn it into a really cool outing. I stopped taking them the third year. Too cold and just too conspicuous.

This was followed last night by their shinnenkai start the year off party in Beppu. He arrived home today to a house full of kids. Invited kids playing inside while I had coffee with said kids mum and little sister and non-invited neighbor kid and his cousins playing outside. Marina and Ryu joined them playing outside and I later found out that Ryu had decided to squat and take a big dump in the neighbors drain. Quite shocked I was. This is my beautiful little four year old. Who goes for a shit outside when there is a perfectly fine nice toilet, with a heated toilet seat, inside! Jeeze.

7 more sleeps till home time. A lot to try and get through this week, which needs to start now by folding two hug loads of washing. How truly exciting.




One day at a time

11 Jan

Hub asked me this evening if I still felt like a drink at night. Now, at 11pm? No would be the answer to that, and I’m pretty confident that even if someone suddenly turned up with wine I could turn it down – unless of course you were family or friends who I hadn’t seen for a year. Hell, then I’d want to pour us both a glass and bitch about disfunctional families, the woes of life and perhaps even talk about the ‘what would you do if you won the lotto’. I love that one.

But at 5pm or 6pm – that’s a harder time of day. Especially as I drove over to drop the DVDs off – with Shou and with Ryu. Hub had mailed to say he would be late because he was having a meeting with his boss and he didn’t know what time it would finish. His boss is completely not interested in working, and I doubt he would work any late nights if he could get out of it. He doesn’t have a very Japanese work ethic and quite possibly only made it up the ranks becasue of years in service and not ability. Not that that happens very often in Japan (coughs).

So I swang the car through the pachinko carpark.

Sometimes this shit is just too easy. Ya know, I almost want him to put a bit more effort in.

It was part of a game for the kids – we were playing a version of ‘car cricket’ where certain vehicles get different points. There was a concrete mixer of all things parked at the side of the pachinko carpark – 50 fuckin points that baby was. Very fortunate for me.

Or not, I guess.

None the wiser, to them, we passed daddy’s car as we swang past the concrete mixer to get the points.

I hate the lie. I don’t mind the pachinko so much. I’m hardly one to get all bitchy about wasting money when I would say we spent about 200 dollars a month on alcohol. But the lie. The pretending you are working while I am at home with three children. That fucks me off – not as much as it did when the kids were smaller. We have a routine now that works better when daddy is part of it – 70% of the time now he is out of the tax office. But if he’s late it still works.

So all the way home I have an internal struggle as we pass one conbini and then the next. Japan sells beer and chuhai in vending machines on the side of the god damn road too so I had to fight my inner self going past those as well.

  • Trying really hard GW: you don’t need it.
  • Inner self: you deserve it though.
  • Trying really hard GW: No I don’t. I deserve not to do it.
  • Inner self: fuckin lieing prick. If there’s a day you need a drink its when your husband lied about working in favor of pachinko.
  • Trying really hard GW: Fuck I reckon. NO. I can do this.
  • Inner self: there’s the conbini with the strong chuhais…
  • Trying really hard GW: …. …. I think I can, I think I can.
  • swoosh (sound of car driving straight on by honey)
  • Inner self: don’t worry, there’s another one in five minutes
  • Trying really hard GW: wonder if I should take the mountain road
  • Inner self: 2 minutes to ETA
  • Trying really hard GW: nah, I’ll probably hit a wild pig. I wonder how the mother who works in the next conbini is. Haven’t see her for a while…
  • Inner self: fuck you’re an easy target.
  • swoosh
  • Inner self: you know the supermarket will still be open when we drive by
  • Shou: hey mum, can you put on Girlfriend
  • Trying really hard GW: Sure darling.
  • Shou, Ryu and Mum: hey hey you you I don’t like your girlfriend… …..
  • swoosh
  • Mummy: home boys. Whose going to get in the bath with mummy

I don’t think that would have happend a week ago. I have the credit of the last 11 days for that strength today. And that dangling carrot to look forward to in 10 sleeps 🙂

Husband’s face when you quietly mention the meeting he must have had with his boss at the pachinko parlor?

Like a dog with his tail between his legs looking ashamed for getting caught shitting on the white carpet.

Feeling of knowing you can get past something that you wouldn’t have been able to a week ago?


I’m doing this folks.

Sweet dreams, Good health, & Quiet living.


Bumhole Stitches

10 Jan

I’m overloaded tired on translations so I’m going to call it a night. So this will be quick.

This morning, as we were having a ninja bum wriggle contest (don’t ask), Marina stopped and asked me straight out if she would have to get her bumhole stitched up when she had a baby. For the love of god girl. I don’t think I’d even had a coffee yet. It was all just too early for the episiotomy talk. I asked her who had been talking about it and she said M-chan – whose mum has just had another baby and obviously isn’t bounding round the house having dance parties with the older two because she still has a sore bum.

I told Marina that sometimes yes, the doctor very carefully and painlessly (no point working her up about that stuff right now) stitches your bum up – No, darling, the baby doesn’t come out your bumhole it comes out your fanny. Yes, sometimes that needs a stitch or two as well. Yes Shou, some mummies do get them cut directly out of their tummies. Its called a C-section. A. B.C. C. Yes. C. No, Marina, not your whole bum darling, you’ll still be able to go to the loo. But some mummies didn’t need it done (again, didn’t tangent about hypno birthing perineal inflatable balloons or perineal cream massaging). Its OK darling. Nobody will force you to have babies. You can think about that all a lot lot lot lot lot later on OK. Yes, I can put ‘Girlfriend’ on again – we are going through a bit of an Avril stage in our house ever since I played it in the new car and the new car automatically downloaded it or recorded it or whatever the fuck it does and I haven’t gotten around to putting more CDs in!! Well, apart from Bob Marley and according to Marina that is a load of shite that one can not possibly dance party or ninja bum wriggle to.

Right, must get to bed. Last  night I had this brilliant idea of having a sleep over in our bed with Shou and Ryu. Marina was being a 6-year-old beeyatch, refused to eat my lovingly prepared roast dinner, called it disgusting, dry wretched, refused a bath, told me she hated me and then ran to Granny’s room, where I proceeded to ignore her cause I was over the abuse and not interested quite frankly in sitting down (again) at her level and trying to reason blood out of a stone. I asked if she wanted to come up to bed. She huffed and puffed so I told her father to deal with her while I went and snuggled with my boys. Ha. the old ignore and avoid parenting technique.

Sometimes its the only way to roll on through without a huge blowout in our house.

And so up to bed we go. I pile a few more blankets on Ryu’s bed so that hub wont be cold – he needs like ten blankets to feel snug. I think it’s just a lead up to those seven vests he’ll need to be wearing in 20 years.

I tried, I really did, but damn Ryu still 360s at night and I got a good slap in the face twice in ten minutes. I lay there dead still in the center between the boys for 15 minutes. They fell asleep, I creeped down stairs and an hour later transferred Shou to his own bed so Ryu could starfish to his hearts content and I could snuggle up to the unabusive (inabusive? non-abusive? well mannered? good tempered?) wall.

So tonight its back to sleeping with hub.

At least he only snores and doesn’t slap me in his sleep.


Sorry you are sad :(

9 Jan

Sometimes I go on the defensive. Like Now.

To the commenter who suggested that ‘it was sad that I couldn’t plan anything fun that didn’t involve alcohol’….

I had sex last night. It was immensely fun and didn’t involve any alcohol. But then it wasn’t planned so I guess it doesn’t count. The kids and I had a dance off in our PJs to Avril Lavigne’s ‘Girlfriend’ this morning before school. It was fabulous. Quite crazy in fact. I was dead sober for it too. Amazeballs. But then that wasn’t planned either.

So, why do a lot of the upcoming plans involve alcohol?

No excuses. I enjoy having a drink.

I have acknowledged that since the ill slash dead parent thing I have been drinking far too much. To the point where I knew it wasn’t ‘fun’ any more in such quantities and almost every night. It was overlapping with other parts of my life, in adverse ways. Making me cranky, making it hard to lose weight, wasting money, making me spend every night thinking, just as soon as I’m home from the soccer run, or the ballet run, or just as soon as English has finished and I have picked up the kids I. Can. Have. A. Drink – and then everything will be OK. I’ll calm the fuck down, kids screaming and bickering wont be able to get into that corner of my brain that wants to just scream itself – because the wine would have already gotten there first and I would have started turning into nice, relaxed mummy.

Three weeks without a drink is a major for me. I’m on day 9. Encouragement would be grand thankyou.

I, myself, personally, am not sad that my ‘fun’ plans in NZ include alcohol. To be honest a lot of them probably wont but because you all know I’m trying to not drink at the moment I guess it is just at the forefront of my mind lately.  It’s not like I plan on rocking up to my friend’s house the night I arrive (after we have spent the afternoon having some girlie shit like pedicures – fuck – better txt her and just make sure she wasn’t planning on bringing bubbles or anything cause damn, I have to try and have fun without it) and demand to see the grog cabinet – cause fuck its been three weeks and I. am. thirsty.

No, my visions of this night are possibly a glass of nice wine with dinner, then I imagine her girls will want to show me all their toys and tell me all the stories, maybe another glass after her kids are in bed and then a few hours of gossiping and catching up and a big fat cup of ‘cha’ tea before bed. It will be fun. Haven’t seen her for over a year.

The next day I spend a whole fun alcohol free day having lunch with two different friends who are flying up to Auckland and then hitting some outlet stores before finding a nice place for dinner, damn it, and quite possibly a glass of wine.  Actually, one friend gets a funny tummy if she drinks and the other is still breast-feeding so actually we may not have any alcohol at all. (note to self – despite maybe not having anything to drink please remember to have fun out for dinner with Tash and Ange OK)

The next day I fly down to the South Island with my recovering drinkie sister. Can’t see myself getting sloshed on the plane with her – and in fact we are flying Jetstar and haven’t prepaid for any alcohol so I guess I’ll have to sustain for that whole one hour 10am flight. This will NOT be a fun experiences as is the same flight we were on with the entire family (including mum and dad in boxes in the back) on the way to bury them when the plane started falling out of the sky, people started screaming and vomiting and I looked over at hub and said ‘I love you’ as I held the kids and said everything would be fine.

Fuck it. I need a drink just thinking about it. Might possibly have to have glass of wine at airport before get on flight. Bloody hell. I’m attaching alcohol even to some non-fun experiences. Gaaaahhhhhh.

Shoot me.

That night is the hen’s night. I imagine I will squiff bubbles while waving round giant plastic penis of some description. Imagine will be fabulously fun evening.  But in moderation of course, as the wedding is the next day.

So, the wedding. A nice adult affair where I plan on sipping wine whilst catching up with relatives who I haven’t seen since we buried mum and dad. I imagine I might get a bit teary eyed at some stage but don’t think this will be alcohol induced. Fuck it. Ok, so it might be.

Next day is post wedding BBQ and trip to see mum and dad. That night us four siblings are going out for swanky dinner in Queenstown – if we haven’t all started fighting by then that is. Will be lovely and quite possibly last time get to do such thing sans partners and sans children ever. Am well looking forward to it.

Next night is back up to Auckland to stay with different two friends, also travelling from far and wide to catch up. Am very lucky girl to have such fabulous friends. These are my best friends from high school and I’d be lying to say we probably wont open a bottle or two. I’d also be lying if I said it wont be fun.

Will be fabulous.

The next night, my last night, I stay at my sisters, where I imagine the fact she is a recovering alcoholic, has three small children, and that I am flying out at 8am the next morning will prohibit me from lining up tequilla shots along their bench. I still plan on having a fun night thought.

But you could be right, it could be a completely crap night because I haven’t planned it with alcohol.

Upon my return to the land of slimey shiitake mushrooms, green tea and sushi I plan on continuing to have fun, but sans the alcohol every night. I really want to succeed at this and am giving this the best try I can at the moment.

I am sorry that my fun plans with wine and friends and possibly ten kebabs makes YOU sad.

I’m not sad. You would not believe how excited I am about this trip. And it would still be exciting without the wine but damn girl, ten sans children days for the first time in 7 years and sorry to say, but fun, and wine, will be had.

And apologies to every one else. Sometimes it is hard not to take a comment personally and not get on the defensive. But then that’s probably something all ‘addicts’ do. I personally think I’m doing very very well and that even after my sad holiday of fun and wine, weddings, coffee, water and Feijoa juice,  that I will be able to get back into my current plan upon my return to the land of the rising sun.

And apologies for not doing my update yesterday. Had an UNO-off with Shou, followed by the bath and bedtime routine, followed by hub and some crazy Japanese TV over a cup of tea, followed by business time.

Shhhh, don’t start thinking I’m having any fun over here without wine now will ya.


The Dangling Carrot

7 Jan

Am here – translating. Not squiffing back vodka shots or anything. Must get one of these case studies home and hosed by the time I go back so work I must. Gahhh. Although is actually fairly interesting so not too taxing other than that whole getting back into work after ten days off thing.

Tomorrow marks a week sans grog. I do feel this is an attainable goal – this first small one, which actually in the grand scheme of things is quite major I guess. Why could I never last a week before?

I honestly think the lure of starting things at the start of the NY is huge. If you are anything like me then if you fuck up said diet or said healthy regime slash turning over of  new leaf plan, if you cave and binge or even just have one drink or one bit of cheese on toast its like, fuck it. May as well just go hell for leather now seeing as ruined it anyway. Will start afresh tomorrow, or Monday cause then its the start of the new week, or fuck it, it’s already the 20th of the month, I’ll just start at the start of next month. Fuck it, actually birthday is in two months so will just start the day after that… …. repeat, repeat, repeat.

But the NY is a biggie. If I fuck this up then I’ve really only got the start of a new decade and by then I’ll be older and saggier and thus less of a favorable statistic to achieve wanted results.

Now I just have to remind self that if I do fuck it up then just need to get back on and start again right away. None of this waiting round for a new this or a new that.

And of course trip home is not being considered a fuck up. Is being considered as mini trip to Vegas along the rules of ‘what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas’. And really it is reason am currently having any success. Is the carrot dangling at the end of the three-week sans wine rope.

And I’m a third of the way there.

Go me.



6 Jan

Hard day today. I don’t find me wanting a drink but man I’d kill for just like a whole loaf of cheese on toast one after the other! Hungus man. I haven’t been dieting. The whole purpose of this first week was to stop drinking. And then from tomorrow I was going to start adding the exercise, and then maybe from the week after I’ll start adding my five a day and cutting back slightly on carbs. Fuck, no. That week is kebab and wine diet week. Will have to start the healthy eating AFTER I get back from the holiday :p

But today was the first day back to semi normality after the holidays – old patterns and all that. I guess if I had had a chuhai or wine whilst finishing off the dinner I would have then had another and probably another and by then I can sell fuckin ice to Eskimos so would have come up with a plethora of reasons why cheese on toast was viable after dinner and right before bed and in between more wine.

But I didn’t. I had two fingernails and a cup of tea instead. Huurah.

(pats self on back and mentality tells self to remember to buy false nails for wedding back in NZ)

Should erect altar to fingernails that will be lost in name of saving self 500 calories of cheese on toast every second night.

Marina’s dance thing went fine. Managed all the logistics after that good sleep – which actually was a whole lot of tossing and turning and nudging the snore machine beside me. Was knackered by time dropped her off at kinder just after lunch – which consisted of a mini chicken on a stick party in the car with Marina and the two other girls I was ferrying to and from dance.

Had to come home and have a bloody Granny nap. I swear I only ‘intended’ to have a ten minute power nap.

nek minit

two hours bloody later, the translation is not finishing itself. Ditto the vacuum cleaner and the floors, washing, SHRED, other exercise, polishing light fixtures etcetera etcetera. Fortunately hub was at his first day of the NY work dinner and not home till nine – wahooo. Easy dinner.

And now I’m off to get another cuppa and watch an episode of the Mentalist.