With Some Grace

I have an incurable habit of storing “stuff”. Clothes, in particular.

For over 5 years, an entire rack of corporate suits hung in my wardrobe collecting dust.

While my Mama days no longer has a use for them, it would be corporate fashion faux pas to simply dump them.

In my defence as an insatiable hoarder, these suits are BEAUTIFUL.

Classically tailored and expensive.

No longer being able to ignore the growing, nagging feeling urging me to get rid of them, I thought the new year would be perfect timing.

After all, it would be another step in my quest to work on the small things that matter.

Last week I finally packed the suits and called Fitted For Work – a volunteer driven organisation with a mission to assist women experiencing disadvantage.

There are clients who may be suffering a lack of self-esteem and confidence or for whatever reason, going through a particularly tough time but want to become self-efficient and financially independent.

Fitted For Work has a boutique supplied with donated corporate clothes that their clients can use for job interviews and to help them with the kick start their ambitions to enter the work force.

Along side clothing donations, Fitted For Work is always looking for ex or present corporate professionals, especially women, who are willing to be mentors or help a client with job interview and corporate styling tips.

I walked into their Parramatta office with 2 big garbage bags of clothes, had a meeting with two staff members, Liz and Dawn who filled me in on the boutique but also how busy they are with training programs for the clients.

Almost an hour later, I left with the promise to commit my time as a volunteer at the boutique and to also be a mentor for the Transition to Work Program.

Cannot tell you how long it’s been since I’ve felt such excitement after a meeting.

And hey, my beloved suits found the perfect home.

 

1. Follow With Some Grace.

2. Sign up to the awesome Digital Parents community ( if you haven’t already done so). DP was created by Brenda Gaddi who happens to be the creator of FYBF. She’s also created 4 gorgeous kidlets. In case you’d like to know. Or maybe not. But we’ll share that info just the same.

3. Add your post URL to the FYBF linky. Please only link up one post.

4. Grab the funky FYBF button and post it on your sidebar. Help spread the blogfloggin love.

5. Visit the blogs of your fellow FYBF’ers and share the comment love

***This post was written in collaboration with Kids Business Communications and Unilever. No monetary payment was exchanged and all opinions are 100% my own.***

This summer, Mr Surfer has taken it on himself to give our garage a massive overhaul, transforming it into a man cave.

Neatly tucked away is the work bench, accompanied by tools and saws. Most importantly, there is now abundant space.

A sacred shrine for the men in my life to make as much mess as they want.

Last Sunday’s rainy weather proved to be the perfect opportunity to test this makeshift haven of hardware.

Rather than have the twinions stay home, climbing walls from sheer boredom we set the first project:

Making wooden planes.

Then, came the fun part – painting them!

You know how it goes with little children. They’ll happily paint what they’re supposed to. For five minutes.

Then, they find more interesting stuff. Like facial and body parts…

I didn’t care. The exercise took up at least a couple of hours.

Give me happy, filth to their ears children over bored, screaming, whiny ones any day.

All the while, I took LOTS of deep breaths and tried to let go of my controlling compulsive tendencies.

Call it cheap therapy.

The fun was finally over. Not a lick of paint left.

I promptly stripped and dumped them in the bath.

Perhaps it was risky to let the twinions have such free reigns and access to mess.

But the entire experience was not in vain.

Firstly, playing dirty doesn’t have to be stressful. Now that we have the designated space, I no longer hyperventilate when it turns disastrous.

I also wanted to see if well known, trusted brands like Omo and Jif could also handle the aftermath.

To be completely honest (and there’s no reason to be anything but) neither product was completely effective.

Granted, I put them to the extreme test with grotty, stubborn paint.

Still, I was slightly disappointed with the results.

While the Omo Ultimate guarantees to actively lift stains that have been left to dry up to 48 hours, it wasn’t entirely the case with on of the twinions’ t-shirts.

It took a couple of washes and a 30 minute soak in hot water to get rid most of the paint.

Next was to see how well the Jif Easy Lift Bathroom spray could clean the paint off the bathroom tiles.

Again, it wasn’t a completely satisfying outcome.

After many generous applications and vigorous scrubbing, it didn’t quite finish the job leaving some paint stains between the tiles.

I have often used other Omo and Jif products without any issues. Give me the traditional Jif cleaning cream any day.

Playing dirty is a part of life.

My children are learning creative and sensory skills from making a mess.

I’m learning to cope with them.

For one reader, there’s a giveaway that includes:

• 1 x Omo Ultimate 1L ($12.99)
• 1 x Jif Easy Lift Bathroom 750 ml ($6.49)

All you have to do is:

Subscribe to With Some Grace by Email

• Leave a comment on this post and tell me: What’s the biggest mess your kid/s have created?

Terms and Conditions:

• This giveaway is only open to Australian residents
• Closing date for entries is 10pm AEST Thursday, 22nd of January.
• The winner will be contact via email on the following Friday.
• If the winner does not reply to my email within 24 hours, another winner will be chosen.
• Entries will be judged on merit and decision of the winner will be final.

Update 30/01:

In response to my concern regarding difficulties in getting rid of paint stains when using OMO,  below is a statement from Unilever:

Unfortunately Paint is not something Unilever formulate the product for. 
However, essentially OMO is great on common stains like:
Tomato sauce
BBQ Sauce
Orange juice
Eggs
Custard
Chocolate Icecream
Grass
Gravy
Spaghetti Sauce
Cake
Jelly
Baked beans

Thanks Unilver for the additional information and promptly letting us know.

 

Imagine having to constantly look in the mirror.

The catch however, is that the reflection isn’t you.  It’s not even an extension of you; an uncanny version maybe, but actually someone else.

In the infamous words of shrewd Balinese street vendors and their powers of persuasion, you and this other form of existence are “Same, same but different”

What makes you different? How do you find out?

There is a happy co-existence, after all. You are the yin to his yang. He is the pepper to your salt.

But every so often, there is a restlessness to pull away.

You can’t explain it; only acting on the frustration that you are yet to be heard individually, to be known exclusively.

From his conception, Nunu has always had to fight – for size, space, nutrients, then ultimately when he was born – for survival.

As parents, we were always just that little bit more conscious of his fragile state post birth.

Force of habit saw us pay more attention to his quiet nature, the insistence to always be by his brother’s side.

We also began to wonder when was it going to be his time to shine; to break through to the other side of twin autonomy; to build his independence.

It wasn’t too long ago we consciously began to spend one on one time with the twinions.

With each brief outing, a little more of his confidence would crack through to the surface with a progressive willingness to talk, to engage.

Slowly we discovered that he just needed space and undivided attention.

Attending day care on his own one day while his brother stayed home sick, Nunu came home with the biggest, most triumphant smile.

“Guess who got the superstar award today?” my husband reported.

“The teacher said he deserved it because he was so, so good today. He helped the other kids. Made sure they all stood up in line properly. Tried to answer all the questions…”

Mr Surfer deliberately spoke a little louder ensuring our little one could hear how very proud we were.

In the words of his teacher, since that day, Nunu started to shine in his own accord.

While his brother is still very much his constant.

He’s begun his own Superstar Journey.

Beyond counting, memorising the alphabet or being able to write his name, this strong sense of self, the freedom to be himself – with no hindering mirror – is what’s going to send him to school next year with confidence.

I just feel it.

I burst with pride in the knowledge.

Joining Essentially Jess for #IBOT

 

This may not be the feisty fist pump, jumping new year’s message you were looking for.

Notwithstanding it being the first FYBF post of the year, my mind’s made up:

2015 will not be about big goals or glamorous dreams.

In fear of sounding trite and passé, I’ve done big and brash. It’s been given a huge tick next to the era of my life that’s titled, “Corporate career bitch, constantly dissatisfied in her wayward journey of lost values”

Mistaking it for “ambition”, I would subconsciously make “happiness” unobtainable by peppering my own life with unrealistic expectations. All based on money, company accolades and stupidly, bad choices in men.

Funny how life flips around.

Asking my husband last year what he wanted for Christmas, he had to pause a bit to think before giving me a reply.

“You know when you’re blessed when you can’t think of anything…”

Bam!

Dreams, goals, ambition and drive are all still so extremely important.

If they help your life evolve, change, shape for the better, absolutely, go for it!

Write that book this year.

Run that marathon (or three).

Aim and hit those big traffic stats for your blog.

Just don’t do what I did, forgetting to strip back to important basics; what I would be considered small but significant to someone else.

Sing to my kids the same Indonesian lullabies my Ma sang to me and slowly watch the same peaceful, calming effect it has on them as it did me.

Call an old friend who’s year was far rougher than mine, to reach out with no purpose or reason other than to say “Hi and RUOK?”

Give my mother a hug in church as she silently weeps, missing and thinking of my late cousin.

All the little things I do as a mum, wife, friend, daughter, sister – all add up to who I am and what I believe in. I’m just going to continue all this in 2015…and then some.

Happy New Year, lovelies.

Whether this year is big or small, make it yours.

Which camp are you in this year? The one for big things to happen? Or the small yet great? 

1. Follow With Some Grace.

2. Sign up to the awesome Digital Parents community ( if you haven’t already done so). DP was created by Brenda Gaddi who happens to be the creator of FYBF. She’s also created 4 gorgeous kidlets. In case you’d like to know. Or maybe not. But we’ll share that info just the same.

3. Add your post URL to the FYBF linky. Please only link up one post.

4. Grab the funky FYBF button and post it on your sidebar. Help spread the blogfloggin love.

5. Visit the blogs of your fellow FYBF’ers and share the comment love

 

Today marks the one year anniversary of my beloved cousin’s sudden, tragic passing.

In one phone call, a giant wave of shock, disbelief, insurmountable pain and sorrow cruelly crashed into my life. The ripples still continue.

It’s hard to swallow the ugly truth that death guarantees life will never be the same again; that life is not what it is if we stay stagnant; if it doesn’t evolve or change.

I know my cousin would want me to carry on today like any other; to keep on moving.

She was never one to keep still herself.

Always traveling for work or for her church, she successfully kept up the demands of her family, patients, students and colleagues.

A gifted public speaker, she rarely declined an opportunity to lecture to a packed room of eager students, or stand in front of the pulpit for her local congregation and proclaim her God’s love.

Her often hoarse voice was simply an indication of how content she was in her own life’s purpose, how much she loved being around people.

In an already crazy crowded city like Jakarta, the neighbouring streets to her family home were blocked off to control the traffic congestion, to manage the constant flow of guests coming over to pay their last respects at her funeral.

People, just keep on moving.

While I need to find something to mark this day, I know Kak Rytha wouldn’t want me spend it by keeping still in sadness.

Maybe I’ll do a run; go somewhere special to eat (she loved to eat and we spent our last hour together gorging our faces).

Perhaps, a swim like the few times we went together.

Whatever it be, I’m adamant she would want me to celebrate her life, not mourn her death.

She’d want me to keep on moving.