Weapons of Wet Destruction

Having had 5 children and fostered countless others over the years, you'd think that I would have parenting down pat, actually I don't.
When it comes to Little Miss Mischief, the youngest member of our entourage, all my theories on parenting went speeding out the door at breakneck speed, with me running after, calling out "Come back, come back! I still need you maybe,... possibly,.... perhaps."
Bath time is the nemesis of my undoing, my perfect parenting skills cease to exist when it comes to the daily child maintenance of cleaning one grubby child.
My last theory about the stubborn procrastination of this little nymph to enter the bath without affray, was delaying the task of completing homework. That theory flew out the door  before I could catch it, as this week is no homework week.
Most nights the remaining members of the family draw straws, the ones that  are left without an excuse. Drue promptly says "I'm out of here" as he runs out of the house, Ritch retreats to his room in lock down mode, Zjarie, if she's quick enough, escapes to the studio with Ipod and earphones. Leaving Maurie and me to arm wrestle the situation. When our dog Pollie was alive, she would scamper out the door with Drue almost knocking him out the way, find the darkest corner of the yard, curl up into a shuddering ball. 2 hours later we'd find her, still shaking, with a whimpering look that smacks of 'is it over yet?'

The nightly ritual begins at my desk.
My desk to the eyes of one Little Miss Mischief, is a world of creative delight mixed in with a fracas of texta's, paper bits, drawings, Barbies, fairies, post-it notes, ribbons, some indiscernible things and then there's my stuff, if there's room. Underneath all that is a desk of beauty. A smokey grey glass top that's been etched with black silhouette cutouts of poppies, tulips, daisies and ladybugs, which I can see through to my toes if there is a blank spot. My compliments to Ikea for that design.
When Maurie calls out "It's bath time", with a whirl LMM is under the desk, between my feet. Her lips pressed up on the underside of the glass leaving trademark lip imprints, distracting me from her real agenda, tying my Ugg boot laces to each other.
Maurie pleads, "I cooked dinner while you were finishing an article and I have to finish some editing, so it's you tonight". I know everyone has gone, Drue's out, Zjarie's out, Ritch has gone bowling with his dad, the cat has escaped to the neighbours and the bunny rabbit is cowering under the shed outside.
Maurie starts the bath while I try to unravel my laces - she's gone! I finally find her under her sisters bed, drag her out by her feet and continue dragging the intrepid mite towards the bathroom. The floor needs a sweep anyway, her white school top also needs washing. Squeals of hysterical laughter are trailing behind. Stopping at the kitchen, I'm halfway there, for fun I drag her around the island bench a couple of times. I see a dried splatter on the floor, so I sweep her backwards and forwards a few more times, the decibels of laughter reach an all time high. The bathroom is a distant light,  I make my way there still dragging the little human broom. I let go, she attempts to dart off, but I'm fast, real fast, grabbing her around her middle, legs in running mode, mid air. I tilt her upside down so that I peel off the pants, while her smelly dirty toes are playing soccer with my nose. She discovers my Achilles Heel, the back of my knees are ticklish. Attack!
Tilt her right way round with one pant leg still hanging on the foot, I whip off her now very black, white top.
She wants to get in the bath herself, before I race out behind the door for cover, she bombs into the bath that sends a tsunami of water over the entire bathroom including me. All items on the vanity have been washed off their perch and are now swimming in the basin. I walk out looking more like a just washed Labradoodle. There's no point changing into dry clothes yet, there's still 'Chicken' to contend with.

Chicken is a pool toy that we bought some time ago from Taronga Zoo. An adorable manta-ray toy of tealy aqua's with purple splotches. When we bought it, LMM clutched the manta ray toy to her chest and called it 'Chicken', we all went huh? This toy when pressed in the middle will emit a forceful stream of jet propelled water. A weapon of wet destruction.
Zjarie walks in the front door, and LMM promptly calls out to her if she wants to see 'Chicken", before I can call out a warning, Zjarie is hit with a stream of water that landed in the middle of her forehead. Turn of the feet and head flicked backwards Zjarie with a acerbic bitterness spits out  the word 'Nice' between gritted teeth. Marching into the office where the droplets of water are spilling down her front, she contritely says, "I didn't know the 2 of you had it in you. You've bred a sharp shooter!" She closes her own door not with a bang or a thud, but it did close with a 'do not disturb' edge to it. In the background demonic shrills of victorious laughter emanate from the bathroom.
Hair wash time, joy. At least by now she is as wet as the rest of the bathroom. With a stern police like voice "Drop Chicken down!" I enjoy washing her hair, because for a few moments she is still. With stealth she waits for a moment of mumnesia to set in to attack. Out of nowhere a stream of water erupts from the bath skyward, it curves back down and lands on top of my head. Like a waterfall it finds the lowest route, down the side of my face, down the neck, underneath my top till it pools inside my bra. With soapy hands I am powerless to stop the ticklish trickle, another burst of demonic laughter follows.
Ritch, now back from bowling, is far more cunning, he waits until this time to steal past the bathroom to the kitchen to make evening snack #12. Ritch is at that teenage age where his stomach never ceases to be satisfied, his tall, lithe, lanky body defies the odds of copious food consumption.
With the hair washing chore now done, its onto the more ominous task of extricating her from the bath itself. This takes just as long as it did getting her in. Armed with Chicken,  her continuous hail of water streams force me to retreat back behind the door. I cackle myself with laughter as I do have one weapon of defence, her towel. I hold her towel lengthways to armour my body and make my way back into the bathroom. She hates being dried with a wet towel. Surrender is her final option.
Getting dressed is her cuddle smooch time, a remarkably smooth, efficient part of bath time.  I have to 'sniff' her hair with deep animated breaths and tell her she smells like a beautiful rose, which she in fact does. We wipe down the bathroom together, replace upturned bathroom paraphernalia. The battle is over.
Our bathroom thanks to LMM's efforts, will for quite a while, be the most freshly washed room in the house.

I have tried the serious, 'it's bath time not fun time' approach, even removing Chicken, but I wasn't 'toilet trained at gunpoint' enough to pull off such a conservative anally retentive attitude with conviction. I know from experience the bath time drama is actually a mask for interaction, engagement and bonding. A ruse to drum up quality time. Sadly, there will come a day she will grow out of it, as children have this really bad habit of growing up. I am not looking forward to that day.

People have the right to live in a safe haven

I was forwarded an email from my dear E-pal, Frank, about how some countries handle refugees. I know that in many countries the penalties are harsh and in Australia we welcome refugees seemingly with open arms and handouts. Many Australians are adverse to this, and in some ways I can agree. Come to Australia legally, honour our way of life, contribute with skills, pay the taxes and abide by the laws is all that is mostly asked, it's not unreasonable, it's not unjust, its fair.
What happens when all legal avenues have been exhausted?, the lives of your loved ones are in jeopardy? to what lengths would one go to, to get their family to safe ground. As a mother, I would do anything.

Some years ago when the western world stood still for days mourning the shocking tragedy of Britain's subway terrorist attack that claimed the lives of 53 people, another tragedy took place in Beirut. A small paragraph in the world news section and some footage on SBS was all that appeared about the callous extinction of 55 kindergarten children on their very first school excursion. Watching the footage of a proud father videoing what should have been a happy childhood event, the memory still haunts me to tears.

In Australia we are free, we are free to travel, the only dilemma we face is what mode of transport, should it be planes, trains or automobiles? We are free to worship the religion we choose, we are also free not to. We are free to move localities within our lucky country; if your not happy with the area you reside in, then you can move to another place of choice. All our children have access to education, health care, sports, hobbies and the opportunity of a bright future. We have a wonderful climate, except for Melbourne with its confusion of 4 seasons in one day, most days. Forgiving Melbourne for its Gemini weather, it's a remarkably wondrous city. In this lucky country of ours we are free.

On the flip side of the world, the scene tells a different story, nothing like we can imagine to our lives in Australia. A young mother prepares her oldest child for their first school excursion, like many mums around the globe, every morning we are herding our children to wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, 'time is moving and you're not' mums demand. This mum looks across the 4 seat dining table where her 2 children are eating breakfast, one chair is empty, it's been empty for 6 months. Her husband was inadvertently  caught up in a University protest, he was attempting to cut across the crowd to get to work. Herded into trucks like cattle, they were taken away for questioning; he is yet to return. The young mum knows that like her neighbour's sons, it's unlikely he will return. The neighbour's sons, 2 boys, one 17 and the other a year older, went to work one day in the same factory, raided by soldiers, both the boys amongst others were dragged into a truck for questioning about terrorist activities. They too are yet to return, but each afternoon, the neighbour stands in the doorway carefully watching the entrance to their street for the boys to round the corner. The boys, after work would play soccer in the street with all the other kids, read their books in the evening, hardly the activity of juvenile terrorists. There are similar stories throughout their short street, and many more in the avenue that connects the street. People by the hundreds have gone missing, people are shot in the street by snipers and at night time missiles can be heard projecting over the populace, more people are killed as the missiles hit their mark. As Religious and Political atrocities heighten, so does the body count.

On this particular day of the school excursion, the warring had been on a ceasefire for 3 months, bit by bit tensions had eased, businesses started to reopen, with nervousness, people resumed their normal activities. This school excursion was the first in 2 years for their school.
Clad in their crisp fresh uniforms, the children clamber onto the bus with eager excitement, rushing to the back window. With typical universal childhood abandon, their little faces were pressed up against the window, all waving frantically to their waiting parents. The young mum standing next to a dad videoing the event waves earnestly in return, picking up her toddler so she too can wave kisses goodbye to her older sister. Once all the children are in their seats the bus takes off on its trip with a toot of the horn. Still in view at the end of the street the bus stops, awaiting for passing traffic before it turns the corner, parents are still waving. A rumbling sound is heard from the bus, and before anyone can react, it explodes, obliterating 55 tiny children, 2 teachers, 2 parents, the driver and 3 people on the street. The blast rocks the area with such a force that everyone  in the immediate area is knocked off their feet. Dazed by shell shock, fighting the heat from the fireball erupting from the bus, the young mum who is a nurse tries to gather enough senses to help the nearby wounded, in a detached moment, she knows that all that were on the bus are lost. As the wailing and screams of agony start, she is among them when reality takes hold, her beautiful angel was on that bus. Her vocal chords are forced to capacity by intense screams of anguish.


The young mum had heard about the far southern land in the lunch room of the hospital she works in. One of the doctors obtained sponsorship to Australia because of relatives. She has no friends or relatives, no hope that can offer the vital sponsorship that is required to gain entry to Australia. Although her command of the English language is impeccable, her nursing skills are sorely needed in our skill stretched country, the application for entry is denied. Her only misdemeanour is to have been born into an ancient war torn country, a country that has suffered strife for eons, and will continue to do so for eons into the future.
With one precious child left of the once happy family, the mother seeks alternative methods. Desperate measures to reach safer ground.
For people such as the young mum, I would welcome onto our sunny blissful shores without question and with a heart.

Reflux and diet- simply ways to ease the pain.,

Saturday mornings is spent attending Little Miss Mischief's swimming lessons. There is usually a stack of Sydneys Child magazines at the front counter which I grab a copy; the aim is to read it before it gets too wet. Yesterday I managed to read a long winded anguished filled article about a mum who was battling her daughter's reflux problem. At the tender age of 3, the daughter had been dragged to a plethora of doctors and specialists, finally there was too be a gastroscopy in which the mother was hoping that something conclusive would be found. The painful article detailed in depth the medication this poor child was submitted too, but not once did the mother complain about the restriction of diet modification, which led me to believe that the topic of a suitable diet might not have been discussed or even considered.

Reflux is a debilitating and a life long affliction, but it can be easily managed. Usually either hereditary or emotionally induced, diet is the most important aspect in treating Reflux. In this day & age most people look for the quick fix, a pill.
If I had been  this lady's doctor, I would have immediately steered her directly to diet education for the child. My first degree is in Nutrition, which I majored in Reflux disorders, as I have Reflux, so did dad and 2 of my children. We have all been symptom and pain free for many years.

Rules of Reflux
1) Nothing cold! everything should be hot, warm or tepid. I knew a mum whose baby had chronic reflux. Visiting her one day she took a cold bottle of formula from the fridge and feed the baby. Her attitude was that she didn't want to 'spoil' her child. Telling her about the no cold rule she warmed the bottle and 2 weeks later she rang to say it did the trick, her baby was no longer on the medication.
First thing every morning and throughout the day I drink hot water. Boil the kettle, pour the water into a cup, let it stand a little to cool enough to drink. I find it very revitalising. I was doing that long before it got trendy.

2) No Fizz!! Soft drinks are the enemy, they can be consumed but only when flat and at room temperature. In summer I drink the odd tepid glass of Coke that has gone flat. Surprisingly it's not that bad.

3) No Acidic foods. Freshly squeezed orange juice is murderous on a reflux stomach. Fruit cup cordial is a better option. No limes, lemons, kiwifruit, grapefruit, tomatoes, radishes, cabbages either, unless dosed with sugar. Replace oranges etc with fleshy fruits such as peaches, nectarines, lychee's. I do eat raw tomatoes with a sprinkling of sugar, I love tomatoes and sugar neutralises the acid. I always include a tablespoon of sugar when making my pasta sauce. Spicy foods, Vinegar or pickled foods are best avoided altogether. I love Corn Relish but my stomach goes into painful spasms afterwards

4) Small meals often. Never let a reflux child go hungry!. Grazing is the new way of life, not 3 solid meals a day. Warm cereal such as porridge, polenta, semolina or warmed milk over weetbix, a high protein breakfast that includes meat, eggs etc is better. Avoid heavy meals or late meals. Don't eat at least an hour before bed.

5) Fresh nuts such as almond and cashews (unsalted) a small handful each morning will not only keep away brain fog, it sedates the stomach. Banana's are brilliant, simply amazing, a powerhouse of nutrition, they are also a natural antacid.

6) Gotta love the Milk and hate the Chocolate. My mother's trick when I was feeling the effect, was a dutch remedy of aniseed and milk. The were always Anissed blocks in the pantry, one block was dissolved in hot milk. Handing me a cup with a kiss, I would sip the pain away. I was 10 when I first tasted the delights of a chocolate biscuit, Tim Tam, at a friends house. Aghast that I had never had one before, the family allowed me 3, which I ate in rapid succession. 2 hours later the family called Dad to collect me as I was doubled over in pain. Years later I discovered that dark chocolate was far more stomach friendly.

7) No Artificial Sweeteners!!!.  I am horrified at the amount of 'childrens food' (processed foods aimed at the youth market) that contain this insidious additive. If it is labelled 'Preserative and Colouring Free' then it definitely has artificial sweeteners. I even found children's yoghurt that had this stuff. All diet foods have this horrible element and should be avoided at all cost even if you don't have reflux. Aspartame, not only is it toxic on reflux tummy's, it's a carcinogenic. Natural sugar is far more healthier than this. Read the labels carefully.

8) Coffee, Smoking, Alcohol (we're talking adult consumption) are big no no's. Tea or Chai's are ok to a limit.

9) Physical Activity. Get out and get active! Life, be in it don't just watch it! One golden rule is that after each meal, get up and get moving. A walk after dinner is fantastic.

It isn't that had to following the above simple dietary rules, but by doing so will increase the quality of comfort and life lived.

"I am not the enemy"

One of my favourite cups to drink from has "I am Not the Enemy" printed on it. Tea taste so much better when served with a wonderful memory.
 'I am Not the Enemy' cup is a treasured souvenir from a show my no1 daughter took me too a couple of years ago. Mums the Word 2- Teenagers, was a hysterical laugh, almost as hilariously funny as it's predecessor, Mums The Word, 10 years earlier.

Darling daughter having saved from her first earnings, purchased 2 tickets for us to see the play. I don't know how she managed it but we had the entire front row to ourselves. I remember sitting down, looking around as the seating filled to maximum capacity, but there seemed to be no one joining us in the front row. I said to my daughter, "Wouldn't it be great we had this entire row to ourselves, it would make me feel very VIP, special". Darling Daughter smiled with a wink replying "Lets see, Happy Mother's Day Mum" she planted a rather large noisy smoochy kiss on my check while wrapping her arm around my neck, bear hug style. It was just us and we were making the most of it.
We spent the night in the city at a 'posh' hotel all organised by hers truly, after a sushi dinner. We watched in house movies on the triple king size bed till late into the night, that's after we played pillow fights and used the bed as a trampoline. It was so much fun. The memory of my mum & daughter weekend date will warm my heart always.

10 years earlier, when I saw the original 'Mums The Word', the night was well, also memorable but in the opposite way.
I laughed so loud through out the play, as did 99.9% of the audience, all bar one, the one that happened to be my date.  I had been single for quite some time, deliberately, so I was a tad rusty in the do's & dont's of dating. My date was childless and utterly hated all things children. I never understood why he was so interested in a divorcee with 4 children. Maybe the fact that I was blond and booby might have had something to do with it.
An argument erupted in the car park about his disgust of the play. His ranting rambled on and on to the point were I just saw his lips moving, but could only hear 'blah, blah, blah'. His self professed 'I am very intellectually openminded' quite quickly turned to look more like stubborn, stupid sour narrow mindedness as he drove off in a gruff huff with my bag & jacket, minus me.  Definitely qualifies as a "date gone really wrong" or 'Type of men women shouldn't date" situation.
I came to the cold realisation amongst an audience of curious onlookers that in my bag was my wallet and mobile, also no means of getting home. Oh crap! Rubbing my bare arms for warmth, I went on the hunt for a rare commodity, a necessity in times like these; a public phone that actually works. Eventually I found a pub, called the ex hubby reverse charge, "Um, can you pick me up please? and can you bring a warm jacket pleeease?". Ex hubby arrived an eternity later, with a pipping hot coffee from a Mcdonalds drivethru, a warm jacket and a smug look on his face. Silent embarrassment ruled to the trip home, I was sure the word 'idiot' was clearly emblazoned with glowing fire across my forehead. Ex broke the silence at my front door, "By the way, I wouldn't stand on the corner out the front of a pub late at night next time"
Lets make that blonde, booby and naive.
I also made an oath never to date any childless bachelors ever again and that I would drive my own car.  Maurie spent 6 months stressing the point he was a parent to a dog, and that was parent enough, of sorts, not completely childless. I finally caved in and agreed to a date after he spoke about a play he saw that was the funniest ever called 'Mum's the Word'. Ironically, he was there the same night. He has a dog, loved my favourite play, I guess it was OK. We married 8 years later, it was the best wedding I ever had.

Our community lost a gem today

4 years ago sisters, Jacqui & Ro had a vision, did the research and decided to give it a go. 

This afternoon Jacqui called us over after our Aus post truck left with the day's orders. With reddened eye's, blotchy face, a smoke clenched between lips, bottle of wine in one hand and some tumblers in the other she offered us a drink. Why not, hey?.

Later and a little light headed, we stood back from a truck taking away the last of their cafe & play equipment, signage etc, anything that was once the iconic Time To Play indoor play centre.  

Our community just lost a gem. A gem lost to the greed and malice of corporate business. Now where will our children play when it rains? or its too hot? where will the mothers group meet? especially with relaxing comfy couches and no clean up afterwards.

Parks are great, but there is no one there to serve you a delectable cappuccino with focacia of the day, while you're keeping a dutiful eye on the little ones in relaxation mode. It just doesn't happen.

Fortnightly Friday night was disco play night. This had become our routine since it opened, Maurie, little Miss Mischief and I would spend our night there. There were always children from her class, her school and other schools that she quickly made friends with and played the night away, along with some dancing and karaoke too.For Maurie and I it was a chance to catch up with friends, have a chat, laugh, unwind and relax while the kids  where having an absolute ball. It was a cheap night out loaded with fun and revelry. Summer evenings, a part of the car park was sectioned off, bring the skateboard, roller blades or skates, there were games and comps for the older children and some adults like me. I'm proud to say I got my first skate boarding lessons and grazed palms there. Now its all gone.

On a sinister side that can't be mentioned due to legal gagging,  but Jacqui & Ro have lost everything including their homes, all that they own, to a group of unscrupulous business men that saw a lucrative business. An attempt using legal loopholes to oust the women from their business and claim it as their own. An apparently legal way to steal someones business.

Jokingly, Jacqui did try to give them her oldest son Joel to settle the case, but they found the house far more appealing. Jacqui held up her own spirits throughout the battle with a quirky sense of humour. Joel, she said, is priceless, she should get some money back too trading him in. If you know Joel, who is an outstandingly amazing teenager, you'd agree. It amazed me, Jacqui & Ro's sense of resolve throughout the last 12 months, but today I saw Jacqui weep for the first time.

At the sister's cost, our rural community has had a great deal of fun, joy rounded off with social engagement for all, employment for many and a huge economic influx for the area. Our complex car park will be somewhat the emptier, not just for the lack of cars, but the marked absence of the echoing sounds of children's laughter & mirth that once filled it.

 Though I can't give specifics, (summoning every inch of self discipline to hold back)  what I can say is that, if one of these gentlemen come to the next Chamber of Commerce breakfast meeting, sits next to me and rubs his hand along my leg again he will be returning to his office missing a crucial male appendage.

Everyday heroes

There are a lot of ordinary everyday people out there, they walk among us, they pass us in the street, they might even live next door, some might even be a considered good friend. What makes these people out of the ordinary is that they are everyday heroes. People that go that extra mile, that extra yard to help someone or a cause. In turn it helps the whole community, their good deed can save a life, fix a life and help other lives in the meantime.
One of these everyday heroes I am proud to call a really great friend. I inherited Jo Cadman as friend through my wonderful husband Maurie.
Jo is simply amazing!,  Perpetually driven by an internal powerhouse of enthusiasm, Jo is a gregarious, rambunctious, dynamic, spirited, inspirational, deeply, deeply ethical, full of life, full of zest type of person. The best type of person to be godmother to our Little Miss Mischief!
Jo has this wonderful exuberant laugh that will uplift any one's spirits to the highest, whenever I feel low I just need to hear Jo's laugh, it works a treat every time. I love her to bits.

When Jo told us she was doing 'Ocsober', I thought that's Jo through and through.
Inspired, we decided to name a new print that arrived in the door that day, dedicate it to Jo's cause to raise money for Life Education. The print itself reminded me of a drunk trying to walk straight, with it's forward yet sideways almost circular path. This print seemed so appropriate being black and white.
Help us help Jo, by purchasing a "Everyday Hero" sling, as 100% of the profits will go directly to Jo's cause, the fantastic Life Education program that relies heavily on donations to educate our children about drugs and alcohol . Our children are our future.

Please read Jo's pledge below
http://www.everydayhero.com.au/jo_cadman_8

Well, it's official now! Completed the web page, let my world and those in it know all about it. Already got a couple of donations - thankyou very much! This really means I actually am going to have to go through with this! I feel good about it and feel that the time is right for me to do this - hopefully, the outcome will be that I loose weight (woohoo!!), feel better, have clearer skin, more energy and the fundraising reaches it's goal and goes to such a worthy cause to help educate our kids that drugs and alcohol are just no go in today's society.

Recently, with the Ben Cousins doco and the Matthew Newton scandal, it just goes to show how much our society is affected by drugs and alcohol. I couldn't bear my son to end up in these situations, and be one of those parents that are helpless in trying to do anything. Well, maybe this is my little way of trying to not be helpless and contribute to education of what drugs and alcohol can do. Only recently, our trusty Toyota ute was stolen from our family property and then burnt to the ground in bushland nearby. After talking with some local kids in the know around town, it seems that the likely person who did this is a wasted human being, normally high on ice. Apparently, you can't really talk to this guy, because he is so affected by ice in a psychosis way, that he would be inclined to stab you. He is renown for breaking and entering, armed robberies and stealing cars, and is believed to be locked up at the moment after being caught from an armed robbery at a Pizza Haven. What would this guy be like if he wasn't on drugs or didn't take drugs. And why is there such a need for him to take drugs to the point it has altered and changed him. It's food for thought and the reason why Life Education is crucial for our kids!

I guess a month off alcohol isn't that bad a deal.

Thanks for Supporting such a Great Cause!

24 Aug 10 15:49 PM
posted by Jo Cadman

Well, I have taken the plunge, and I'm not sure how I am going to go. Seeing I missed "dry July", when I heard about Ocsober plus you could help raise money for Life Education for kids, I thought I have to do this. As those who know me, I do like to have a drink or two, especially a good cold glass of bubbly! So, Ocsober - not having a drink for a month - will be a challenge for me. It's only a month, you say, but think about it. A lot can happen in a month, particularly to drive you to drink! Just dealing with my son and partner is surely enough of an excuse!!!
So, what better incentive than to actually contribute towards raising money for a good cause - helping educate kids about drugs and alcohol abuse!
Go on, give us a hand and help - a dollar or two donation would be a great way to keep me off the drink in October. You never know, I might actually end up being a nice person!!

Our own story is that last year, our family home acted as a safe house for a young man of academic brilliance. Unfortunately he was a drug mule and a cocaine addict. After his family had exhausted all avenues he was dumped on our door step with a plea that sounded like "please give him a good home, will collect when all problems have been resolved".

One fateful night while neighbours where enjoying their evening meal, unaware of the goings on next door. With stealth, gunmen broke into the young man's home, held his mother and tiny sister at gunpoint. Demanding the $50,000 that he owed them, it was then that the parents realised that their son might have a wee small problem with drugs and the drugworld. Pleading for some time to collate the debt, the family fled into the night disbursing younger children at various safe locations, the last port of call was our home. Up until they knocked on the door at 1am, I hadn't seen or heard from the family in more than 10 years. Few hours later, leaving their son behind, both parents fled individually to different states. Careers, schools, family & friends all abandoned to save their lives. All the while the young man with a constant case of the sniffles and incoherent ramblings to persons unseen, didn't understand why his 'friends' had turned nasty. Friends that had told him that they were like family to him. I believe the correct term is 'frenemies'; there are no friends in the drug world, especially when the buyers don't pay up.

A young man that should've had a promising future, but instead his gift will go unused, beneficial to no one, destroyed, because he possesses an academic intelligence of genius and an emotional intelligence of zero.

New releases for September 2010

We have been really busy over the last week or so when the first of our summer releases came through the door. Not all of them have arrived but here are the first 5.

We have by popular demand added soft denim to our core range. Finally a demin that goes with whatever you are wearing and still be soft on baby's delicate skin. this denim is supercool too, so no fear of overheating for Summer. Nothing can ever go wrong with denim when it comes to fashion style.
 I absolutely love both the Champagne Mist & City Mist. The Champagne Mist is such a soft delectable colour and the Grey Tealy colour of the City Mist is a great non gender, but definately "Man" colour, so dad gets to have a bit of pizazz too.
Who can't resist Chocolate, with browns, earths and muted tones such a big demand these will be a sure favourite.
Now that Spring has sprung and Summer soon to follow, the lovely Sage Stripe will go well with any summer attire. Pastels are rumoured to be big this year, so I am looking forward to seeing soft sensual pastel florals in some of the dresses hitting the stores soon. Personally I am a jeans and Tee sort of a girl but you never know, with such beautiful colours on offer I might just be tempted to buy a dress, after I've been to the spray tan booth!.

Moving the business from Home.

When we first started Bubba Moe Slings, it was when we were still Aster Moe Kids Clothing. I was a WAHM, working hard with my mum (aren't mums great) who offered to help out for one day. She ended up working tirelessly everyday for me until Dad was diagnosed with cancer several years later.

We had converted 2 bedrooms into the workshop, but when the slings took over from the clothing the little workshop was bulging. The spare bedroom became the office, the foyer became the parcel point (it was hard getting through the front door at times) and the laundry became the Art dept. Slings covered the couches and the press machine lived in the lounge room.
When the then very little Ritch spilled a bowl of cereal over freshly made slings, safely waiting till my anger cooled down, the family emerged from their hiding places and promptly gave the business it's marching orders. Time to leave!
We went on the hunt. There were a few factory units for lease around but most were well, lets say plain yuk!. Most were ex mechanic shops, there was grease and grime everywhere. A new complex was just finished that had 14 units of differing sizes. One, number 11 was just the right size. At home we did the figures, the maths etc and approached the bank. The bank took around 6 weeks to give an approval, alas my desired unit was already taken, the only one out of the 14, dam!.
We spent months looking at premises that were either too big, too small, too dirty, too dodgy, too expensive.
Stuck in a post office queue one day behind an old school chum we got to chatting. It turned out that he owned the unit 11 I originally wanted. The current tenant was having difficulty making the lease payment and since he didn't use the mezzanine level, he offered us the upstairs to help ease the financial burden. It was a win-win situation. We moved in 3 weeks later. Once our sign was on the top of the building, the business seemed to be so real.
The fight began at home for the now empty double sized bedroom. Before we had moved everything out, No1 daughter had her posters on the wall and her bed already in place. I had spent the week before thinking about the layout of the room, where I was going to put my bed and the parents retreat I was designing in my minds eye. Teenagers will be teenagers and with the plethora of friends constantly at home it made sense that she occupied the mammoth room. I resigned to the fact that the natural pecking order wasn't going to be effective here. Let it be known that I do have dibs on that room when she moves out.
Home became a real home after so many years and I had to do something that I haven't done in years, get dressed and commute. The pyjama state was now at an end.
I also found that I could "close the door" to the business and concentrate on the family after 'work'. Though as a business owner it's never far from mind, I could separate myself enough to work on the business, not in the business once the gaggle of children were in bed or off doing their own things.

I left the layout to our then production manager Sarah, who is superbly brilliant with the flow of things. The seemingly huge mezzanine level with abundant space was beyond capacity 8 months later. Working her magic over and over, Sarah found more space to fit things in with the growing work flow, even devising a roundabout system. Becoming trapped in between large rolls of Dacron one day she said "It's time to move to bigger premises". This sent our landlord and downstairs business into a spin of despair. They relied heavily on the rental income. We were groaning at the thought of moving the heavy equipment. The landlord came up with the idea of extending the mezzanine level right across, tripling the current space.
At increased rent, but not with the burden of relocating it was once again a win-win situation. As the entire complex started to fill with businesses, there was also the camaraderie of business friendships that would be missed if we moved. In summer, Friday afternoons are spent at the "Complex" BBQ, a get together for all the tenants. Jamie from next door wheels out the industrial sized BBQ, everyone pitches in, with business and other issues discussed over a drink or two, it's a great finish to the working week.

Working from home is very insular and can be lonely at times if you don't have staff. There are many home business networking groups which provide vitally important connections, sounding boards and at times a reprieve from being a single entity. Government bodies such as councils and BEC's as well as private groups are found in every area. Online forums are a great resource too, which I still use myself today, but talking face to face with another person in the same situation is the best way to keep up with the demands emotionally.

Supply Chain Issues

So you have a great idea. It's either something you can make yourself to start off with, or something that you source others to make for you. When it comes to supply chains, the issues are the same.
When people that start with a hobby that turns into a business, a business plan usually comes as an afterthought. People with ideas to create a business start off with a business plan.
If life has a way of not going according to plan, so do businesses.

It's the hiccups that create the best plans, because by then you know what can go wrong. It's the mistakes that create the best operative procedures. It's the big mistakes that make you know now, that's not what to do from here onwards. Hindsight is cruelly brilliant.

Business plans like the eternal words from Geoffrey Rush's character  Capt Barbosa "More like guidelines than rules" should be viewed that way, a guideline or a direction, until the first stumbling block has occurred.
"Next year we will not........". In our case it's textile supply that has become our nemesis, our undoing.

When we first started selling slings eons ago, there was a local fabric shop that sold all the designer overflow fabrics. I would buy a roll of any fabric that I felt would make wonderful slings. Once a particular print was sold out at the markets or later on the website, there would would always be another coloured print to replace it, freshly bought from my favourite fabric store. It was an incredibly easy process; more slings sold, the more fabric bought. Then Lucille was diagnosed with cancer, her daughters took over the running of the shop. The fabrics they chose became less and less suitable, I had to start looking elsewhere to make up the shortfall. I came across United Textiles, their range was orgasmic to my senses. That went well for around 2 years, and by this stage we started to get stockists, so there had to be some colours that were continual for set period of time.
A letter came in the mail that Tom who owned United Textiles had also developed cancer, sold the business to Hills Textiles. After a year, they changed their core line of woven textiles, venturing into stretch, silks etc. This was not on the business plan, so once again we were on the hunt.
Now supplying corporate businesses, we secured a range with a long established textile company from Melbourne. With a secured preordered range, we printed catalogue books for our stockists. The first 3 months our core range arrived on time, so orders where sent on time. The fourth month, the delivery day had come and gone, no fabrics. Orders coming for what we didn't have in stock. Phone call to the company proved our worst fears, there was an expected delay of delivery of more than 3 months. Shite, shite and more shite.
The word unreliable was used quite a few times when stores ordered colours we couldn't supply. We lost a few clients along the way. A new section was added for next years business plan; damage control on the "out of stockers", a 12 month prepared forward order schedule doesn't guarantee one the supply.

It's amazing what sales reps will promise you. "We can organise that, we can do that, it's our core item we have that in stock all the time, we prefer forward ordering systems..........blah blah blah!!!" What the problem is the lack of communication inside big companies. The sales reps don't talk to the order reps and the order reps don't talk to the clients.
Logically if a client or few, gives you a list of monthly requirements for a whole 12 months with at least 3 months prior notice of commencement, a guaranteed sale, income etc, it shouldn't be that hard.

That estimated 3 month delay turned out to be longer, very much longer. After another 3 months of ringing "Is it here yet?" we gave up. In the meantime we luckily we found a small supplier offering great new fabric range to re woo angry clients. This wonderful company is today our main supplier, never late, ever.
8 months after the debacle, I got a phone call from the former company. All cheery, chirpy and with excitement the order clerk tells me that the fabric has arrived, all 8 months worth. "When would you like delivery?"
"Oh, immediately!" with sarcasm that quickly turned into 'sarchasim' when she didn't understand my tone.
I helped her out; I told her to deliver it to a place in her body where the sun don't shine!.

That delay must have angered more people than ourselves, some months later, the former company contacted me negotiating a deal that would see us buy the entire shipment at 80% discount. They had lost distribution rights for a lot of the textile designers.

With the new company that now acts as distributors, now far more savvy, we imposed terms and conditions. If a delivery is late without prior notice or consent, we take 30% of the price as penalty. Works a treat, as so far each month the order has arrived on time.

Some works from young designer ZarBe

Over the last few years our factory unit has played to host to many young textiles and design students who use our premises to help put together their collections.
While I'm often hanging around doing the dreaded paperwork in the office, these young hopefuls are dominating the production and cutting areas. I'm glad to get a reprieve when asked about angle & flow correction, paperwork I'll see you later.

Last week the staff and I plus all the family and all the friends, we were invited to 2 shows. One in central Sydney for ZarBe and the other in Manly for MW Bodacious. What 2 fantastic nights but by Thursday we were bleary eyed.

Zjarie (pictured left) from ZarBe wowed the crowd on Tuesday night's Launch My Label fashion show at the Embassy Event Centre along with 9 other emerging designers. ZarBe's first piece, the Can Can, to hit the catwalk had the crowd roaring with delight as the model Prudence didn't just strut the catwalk but danced her way with pizazz and flair. There seemed to be a 100 photographers at the end of the catwalk. Flashes went ablaze, among those photographers, placing herself strategically at the end of the catwalk at foot view was our own Little Miss Mischief. Shoe designer DanYelle was tickled pink that Little Miss Mischief's shoes photo's were among the best to be produced. Considering she only just turned 7, our budding photographer captured every one's hearts. I had to admit to DanYelle that our little Miss Mischief has a shoe fetish bigger than Imelda Marco.
6 more designs followed that the models showcased with individual and dramatic flair.
Links for facebook  ZarBe
Link for the webstore http://www.zarbe.com.au
link for the Etsy store http://www.ZarBe.etsy.com

It was nice to see Zjarie called up on the catwalk after her designs were shown. Wearing her new creation (made the day before) of hand painted and dyed silk organza, she did her own catwalk strut.

Currently Zjarie is working with Philomena from Featherhead to create a "Fashion in the Field" collection for the upcoming spring racing carnival. Featherhead's elaborate creative headpieces were used throughout the night with all the designers work, but the one's the models are wearing were designer especially for ZarBe's collection.