The Potato Battle

Ready for a history lesson?

The Potato Famine ravaged Ireland from 1845 – 1852.  A vast majority of the Irish were entirely dependent on the humble potato for food, so when potato disease struck, the results were catastrophic.  Approximately 1 million people died and a million more emigrated from Ireland.  The effect changed Ireland’s cultural landscape forever and is one of the most important periods in the country’s history.

The War of the Bavarian Succession, also known as the Potato War, was fought in the Prussian region in 1778.  In comparison to others in this period, this was a minor skirmish with most casualties resulting from soldiers starvation.

2012, and the latest Potato Battle is in full swing in my own home.  My husband Henry hails from the Small clan of Geebung.  Clearly a family built on the steady tradition of washing one’s potato prior to peeling.  I am from noble Harsley stock, and despite our pedigree, we like our potato’s dirty and get straight down to business.  Peel first, then wash.

In all seriousness, what began as a bit of a joke and some gentle mocking has now escalated to a being a real issue, with threats of divorce and worst of all, The Cranky Face.

I took this big issue to the people (facebook) about a year ago and the results were mixed.   Many never knew of their potato bias until that time and I shudder to think of the amount of homes which began their own Potato Battle that night. 

It got me thinking this afternoon about the crazy things that we all have a thing about and how the beautiful union of two lovers in domestic bliss can be shattered so suddenly by washing the dishes the “wrong” way, or putting dirty clothes straight in the machine instead of a basket. 

Where do we get these “things” from and what “things” am I passing onto my children??

I remember making rissoles one evening not long after Henry and I moved in together.  He asked me why did I start by soaking slices of bread in stock?  I wasn’t quite sure why, that’s just how you make rissoles.  Right?  So I rang my Mum to ask why she did it.  She wasn’t quite sure either.  We then asked my wise old Nanny, the monarch of the family to reveal the truth.  Her simple answer was that when she was young they couldn’t afford much meat and padded out their rissoles by adding slices of bread.

Ha.  What a complex breed our domestic species can be.  I’m a lover, not a fighter.  So from now on I declare we will be a pasta and rice family.  And if Henry wants potato he can bloody well peel them himself, crazy potato-peeling fool!

A Picture Says...Week 1

Hi there, this post is part of a fortnightly blog-off I'm part of with some writing friends.  Each time there's a picture to set the theme and we all then write 500 words.  It's a bit of creative fun, so read on if you wish.  
Big thanks to www.kellyexeter.com.au for getting the ball rolling and the creative juices flowing!
We'll be back to our regular scheduled blogging later this week....

A picture says 500 words

As the kids played in the waves, unburdened with the naivety of youth, their parents discussed how best to break the news.

Like the receding tide, her bottle of wine was emptying.  Warmed by the afternoon sun, its bitterness felt almost medicinal. 
“So, we’ll talk to them at dinner tonight, then I’ll pack and be out by the morning.”  His tone was so business-like, it’s the only side she had seen of him for so long. 
“Sure.”  There was nothing else that could be said.

The decision had been his.  Now that you think of it, they had all been his: the big impersonal wedding, the house in the suburbs and the children, all three within quick succession.   Her life, her dreams felt like a distant memory and the fact that she now would have control of her own decisions terrified her.  Even their vanilla scented shower wash was his decision.
“Lavender or Orange?”  She’d said it out loud.
“What?” He barked in return.

The tension was broken by their youngest, Claire, a beautiful spirit who was impossible not to smile around.  She leapt into her father’s lap smothering him with kisses and sand.
“What’s for dinner guys?  We’re starving!  Can we have chips?  Can we eat at that park again?  Does Tom have to get that calamari again?  It’s gross!” 
The questions rattled at machine gun pace.  Where do they get this energy she wondered? 

She wriggled her toes in the cool sand and wished that like her feet she could disappear, forget this was happening and escape on her own to Morocco or somewhere fabulous like that.  Spend her days reading and drinking tea and her nights dancing.

The sound of her children calling her broke her daydream, “MUM!” They all screamed, each with their different demand. 

Her husband helped her to her feet and for an instant their eyes met in a moment of compassion.  She took a deep breath and like two wounded soldiers, walked arm in arm toward the conversation they’d been dreading.  

Repeat After Me: I Love Being a Mum!

I've read a lot about motherhood lately which has given it a pretty bad wrap.  I understand the childless by choice stories and honestly respect everyone’s right to choose, but what’s getting me down is the constant stream of negativity about Mums, from Mums! 

It’s a hard trap not to fall in to and one I’ve fallen victim to on countless occasions.  There can be a lot to whinge about.  But you know what.  I love being a Mum, so much so I went back and did it again and thanks to this new natural contraceptive I’m using, I’ll probably be back for thirds.  I love being a Mum, but I didn’t trade my sense of adventure and style when I rented out my uterus. 

Despite The Wiggles on constant repeat inside my head, I still know important things like what’s happening in the Middle East and who wore what at the Logies.  I have goals and aspirations that don’t revolve around my children, but are an independent accompaniment to a very full life. 

My beautiful Jessica, only minutes after she was born

I’m no Super Mum though, like all of us, at times I’ve really struggled and I have had professional  help to get through physically and emotionally.

   

It can be tough and we need support, particularly from other Mums, not being on each other’s case about parenting style or adding to the negative poor-mum syndrome.  I want to challenge every Mum out there for one day to drop the negativity and be proud of being a Mum.  When someone asks how the kids are, don’t reply with rolling eyes and tales of woe. 

It’s a hard habit to break and without getting into a heap of feminist rambling, it’s something us chicks seem to constantly come up against.  Imagine if instead of your husband and his mates sitting around at the pub trading footy yarns they told amazing tales of their heroic wives who braved 13 hours of labour to give birth to a 9 pound baby with no pain relief! 

While I don’t see that happening any time soon, it’s completely easy to tell another Mum that she’s doing a great job, to tell ourselves that we’re doing a great job!  There’s a lot to love about being a Mum, something that’s easy to say at 7.30pm with 2 kids in bed, perhaps we just need a reminder sometimes from our Mummy mates.

What is love? A blog about Sex, Red Velvet Cupcakes and Adele

This week I’m tapping back into my reason for beginning this blog.   As much as I love to share intimate details of my private life with you all, my intention was to learn more about words and writing.  A literary gym if you will.

I read an article this week on powerful words used in sales and marketing.  Triggers for the reader to take notice and listen more closely to your message.  I’ve learnt a thing or two and will incorporate these in my business as well as when convincing my husband I do need that new pair of boots this winter.   

So here's the list.  I promise you won't look at advertising the same way afterwards...

You
Results
Health
Guarantee
Discover
Love
Proven
Safety
Save
New

If you haven’t realised already, I’m sorry dear reader, but you’ve been duped. 

As much as I know you would love me to share a dirty little story about Adele and Red Velvet Cupcakes, the title is simply a concoction of some of the most searched words on Google for 2011, a fascinating list I stumbled across recently.  When it comes to powerful words, this is it – according to Google.

Love the hair Beiber!

Most Googled question – What is Love?  Or perhaps this is a reflection of our infatuation with 90’s pop sensation Haddaway??
Most Googled food – Red Velvet Cupcakes
Most Googled person – Adele
and to round off the list, the Most Googled Image of 2011 was the little cutie Justin Beiber.

I'm also curious to see the stats from this post to see how many people clicked through after spying the most popular trigger word of all-time - SEX.