<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448</id><updated>2011-08-03T05:39:41.413+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Rosiesjoy</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>28</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-7544028890102506721</id><published>2010-10-02T10:37:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T10:38:23.449+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>If you go to church, work at a christian school and only have christian friends,  how would you ever be able to understand the world?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-7544028890102506721?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/7544028890102506721/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/10/if-you-go-to-church-work-at-christian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7544028890102506721'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7544028890102506721'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/10/if-you-go-to-church-work-at-christian.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-3143388561174070574</id><published>2010-07-10T19:08:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2010-07-10T19:14:13.821+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome Saturday Night</title><content type='html'>So, it's 7.09pm&lt;br /&gt;Both Amelia and Tristan are in bed.&lt;br /&gt;I am actually wide awake and I'm really bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this happen?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-3143388561174070574?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/3143388561174070574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/07/awesome-saturday-night.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3143388561174070574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3143388561174070574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/07/awesome-saturday-night.html' title='Awesome Saturday Night'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-7602024536137428539</id><published>2010-06-24T12:36:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2010-06-24T12:37:06.227+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Trisomy 13</title><content type='html'>Aside from getting a new Prime Minister, it has been a pretty sad couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My very good friend who is pregnant had her 12 week ultrasound yesterday and they found that her baby has severe deformities; it looks like it could be a disease called Trisomy 13, which means there are 13 chromosomes and a lot of difficulties with their health. My friend’s baby is alive, but there are some real issues. The chances of this baby surviving are very slim, they mostly don’t make it to birth and if born will struggle to live until their first birthday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend text messaged me at 10am and couldn’t actually ring until 2pm because of all the tears. She was offered a termination, but she does not want to do that. There are all sorts of reasons, but who cares and that was her decision. She says she loves this baby already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really feel for her, I had an abortion many years ago when I was young and very silly and didn’t really think about it. I never told anybody either, which sort of makes it feel less real also. Now that I have my gorgeous baby I don’t think I could ever do it again, even if it meant having to care for a very sick bubby. It’s funny how priorities change and things you think about change as you get older.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s really weird this trisomy 13 thing, because a friend from mother’s group has a friend who also at her 12 week ultrasound found that her baby had the same thing. Her baby went to sleep yesterday, she also has one other child and had made a decision that she would wait and see what happens to the baby. Is it good or bad that it died?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mum said she would pray that this happens to my friend’s baby too. I wondered what I should pray for. And basically I thought I would pray that whatever happens my friend is supported through it all because this baby must be pretty tough to still be alive with all its little problems. I’m just sending out vibes to the universe to be whatever my friend needs me to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-7602024536137428539?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/7602024536137428539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/06/trisomy-13.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7602024536137428539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7602024536137428539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/06/trisomy-13.html' title='Trisomy 13'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-7443180933437231244</id><published>2010-06-13T11:28:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2010-06-13T11:32:33.291+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday mornings......</title><content type='html'>Working on a Sunday, what could be worse?&lt;br /&gt;Oh the 21 year old Personal Trainer overdosing on amphetamines and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;GBH&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;That'll&lt;/span&gt; do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did come up with a tasteless joke....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked the doctor looking after her if I need to see her and he said no (she has lots of supports and blah blah blah). Anyway He was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;surprised&lt;/span&gt; that she needed to take the drugs given she works in the fitness industry and I said "how else are you going to stay really skinny?" ZING&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-7443180933437231244?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/7443180933437231244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/06/sunday-mornings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7443180933437231244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7443180933437231244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/06/sunday-mornings.html' title='Sunday mornings......'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-3072769114677715306</id><published>2010-05-29T10:03:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2010-05-29T10:22:10.384+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Thursday was truely awful.&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to sort out working and day care for my daughter, we have a place in \family Day Care, which is totally awesome. AND the good news was I spoke to a lady who uses the same carer at family day care and she's been really happy with her. Her daughter loves her, blah blah blah. SowWe're going to give it a trial and if it all goes to hell I will stop work...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, my Mum has not been very supportive, but I felt like she was starting to understand why we didn't have any other option, until Thursday.&lt;br /&gt;She calls saying 'oh did you know that you can extend your maternity leave for another 12 months".&lt;br /&gt;I'm like, I know, but we need the money etc, and she was saying 'oh but if you waited another 12 months your kid will be able to talk and tell you if she doesn't like the carer'.&lt;br /&gt;I was so pissed off with her. she said 'couldn't you just cope with the money you're getting now?' I said no if interest rates keep going up there is now way.&lt;br /&gt;(ps Tristan and I have talked about this (surprisingly enough!) and we could get by, but if an emergency happened we'd be screwed).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I was so angry with her, she's obviously been so privileged with the money my dad earned that she doesn't get what it's like to have to pay off a house and pay bills like real people.&lt;br /&gt;I think she thinks I really want to send my kid to someone else to care for her, like I'm not totally sad and going to miss her. Fucking douche is all I can say....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this phone call happened as I was getting in the car to go to 'Tiny Tots Storytime' the library and as I was pulling out of the driveway I was a bit distracted and blinded by the sun and didn't see this couple walking across the footpath. I wasn't sticking out too far, but obviously they had to stop in a hurry.&lt;br /&gt;I said I was sorry and the dude came up to my window and said "you know it's illegal not to stop". And I said again I'm really sorry I didn't see you with the sun in my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;He just kept crapping on and in my head I was getting so angry, I was actually sorry at first but then I got all defensive. 'you don't know me', 'I'm a really nice person', 'fuck you I didn't actually hit you'. Grr, so I drove off really mad and sad and felt like crap all day thinking something else really bad was going to happen to me that day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-3072769114677715306?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/3072769114677715306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/05/thursday-was-truely-awful.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3072769114677715306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3072769114677715306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/05/thursday-was-truely-awful.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2064106768381742243</id><published>2010-03-11T09:37:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-03-11T09:41:36.399+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleepless</title><content type='html'>I'm worried about going back to my normal job.&lt;br /&gt;I want to go back two days a week, but I don't know how that will work or whether I will be able to stay with the brain injured dudes. If I can't, then I don't think I want to go back.&lt;br /&gt;I also kinda don't want to put Amelia into child care. I'll miss her too much, plus the ones I've seen makes it look like prison, with all the cots in one corner.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to do, it's making my brain fuzzy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2064106768381742243?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2064106768381742243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/03/sleepless.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2064106768381742243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2064106768381742243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/03/sleepless.html' title='Sleepless'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-5702529056072417837</id><published>2010-03-08T16:29:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T16:35:05.456+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Pornography</title><content type='html'>I just had afternoon tea with my mother and Amelia.&lt;br /&gt;We were talking about all the things I've had to move since Amelia has started to crawl and get into all sorts of busy work.&lt;br /&gt;I said that the game controls (i.e. for &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;PlayStation&lt;/span&gt;/X-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;box&lt;/span&gt;) couldn't be broken, it's just that we don't want her playing with them. Them my mother said, ' Yes, you don't want her turning on some &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;pornography&lt;/span&gt; at her young age'.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT?!&lt;br /&gt;I said, what do you mean? and she said that Amelia could turn on the TV and it there would be pornography.&lt;br /&gt;I said something along the lines of, oh the game controllers don't turn the TV on. Then later thought about it. What kind of house does she think I'm running? Do I just have porn on the TV 24/7, that little eyes can accidentally turn on and watch?&lt;br /&gt;Man I wish I had the balls to tell her off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-5702529056072417837?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/5702529056072417837/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/03/pornography.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5702529056072417837'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5702529056072417837'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/03/pornography.html' title='Pornography'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2790074462810582836</id><published>2010-02-11T10:39:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-11T10:41:09.880+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Myki?</title><content type='html'>I just left Amelia sitting up in her cot, holding dolly and crying her eyes out.&lt;br /&gt;It sounds like I'm really mean, but she was rubbing her eyes which means "I'm tired, please let me sleep".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm trying to put money on my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;myki&lt;/span&gt;, but I can't seem to work it. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Grrr&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2790074462810582836?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2790074462810582836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/myki.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2790074462810582836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2790074462810582836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/myki.html' title='Myki?'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-3642732993782709965</id><published>2010-02-10T09:02:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-10T09:14:44.069+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Pizza, babies and bongo drums</title><content type='html'>I went out last night, up to Belgrave to see my flaky friend and, as predicted, I spent hours and hours with her. I was out so late that I got into trouble from Tristan because I came home after 12 on 'a school night'!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amelia and I went to Anna's house where, first of all I asked whether her neighbour had given birth yet and what flavour was the child, we tried to visit her. This is very difficult because although the houses are very close, in order to get there you have to go down one really steep driveway and then up another one (only to find that the person in question is out ARGH!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we decided to order pizza, while we waited for pizza we entertained Amelia with bongo drums, this was really fun and Amelia joined in patting away at the drums, she even got some good sounds out. There was also some sort of Japanese instrument that she was enthralled by, but wasn't allowed to touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm, what else, oh we had some lovely organic red wine, then the pizza came. We ate, then spent some time on the veranda watching all the birds fly around looking for trees to sit in for the evening. While this was happening her neighbour returned home and brought her baby over....Patrick. SO small and light, also his cry was really soft compared to Amelia's now. I had a cuddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Richard, Anna's partner came home and he expertly showed Amelia how the bongo's are to be played, she also enjoyed the timber of his voice, alway turning when he spoke. Then she got a bit grizzly, but eventually fell asleep and the adults had some jasmine tea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while I decided I should go home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the best night I've had in a while. So relaxing. If only I could see her more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-3642732993782709965?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/3642732993782709965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/pizza-babies-and-bongo-drums.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3642732993782709965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3642732993782709965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/pizza-babies-and-bongo-drums.html' title='Pizza, babies and bongo drums'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-7281464774826462065</id><published>2010-02-09T10:34:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T10:48:26.081+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I have a couple of friends who are total FLAKES. I am forever making plans with them, then on the day they will call or text to say that they can't do it.&lt;br /&gt;Their excuses are usually fairly lame, things like; I forgot I had other plans, I have a headache, or like last night, I've got an unexpected job interview after work!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if it's me. Is it so annoying to catch up with me that you have to make lame-ass excuses?&lt;br /&gt;Or I just choose friends who are too hippyish to be able to organise their lives. This seems to be true of the friend I was meeting up with last night. She has no idea how the world works, yet she is the MOST generous person I have ever met. If I actually meet up with her, I know that I'll be with her for hours doing awesome things like sitting around eating and drinking on the veranda of her house which looks over to awesome bushland. It's so relaxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hopefully tonight I will see her and have some relaxing times, but I won't hold my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. The dog looks great, the child didn't notice the difference.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-7281464774826462065?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/7281464774826462065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-have-couple-of-friends-who-are-total.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7281464774826462065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7281464774826462065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-have-couple-of-friends-who-are-total.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2751950853979036128</id><published>2010-02-08T11:35:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T11:39:17.673+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Today</title><content type='html'>Today Josh the dog will get a haircut. He will go from The &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Neverending&lt;/span&gt; Story type dog to ugly rat looking dog.&lt;br /&gt;Yet his eyes will be seen again, they are lovely, however you can't stare into them too long &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; I think you can catch vagueness.&lt;br /&gt;Some dogs look like they think very deeply. Not Josh he looks like he doesn't think, he just stares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder what my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bubba&lt;/span&gt; will think of him, she thinks he's pretty funny now. She might think he's boring after a haircut.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2751950853979036128?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2751950853979036128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/today.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2751950853979036128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2751950853979036128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/today.html' title='Today'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-7734038412511999449</id><published>2010-02-07T08:19:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-07T08:22:24.103+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Holes</title><content type='html'>Yesterday at work a six year old came in having 'inserted a marble into her vagina'. Classic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tristan said there should be a plug to fit all the holes on kids that they can put things in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was small I put a marble up my nose and I seriously don't remember it ever coming out. I didn't tell my parents, so it never got extracted by a doctor. I thought maybe one day I would have a scan and it would be in my brain somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;But alas I've had a couple of cat scans and they only found brain.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-7734038412511999449?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/7734038412511999449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/holes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7734038412511999449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/7734038412511999449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/holes.html' title='Holes'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-4731150834090287172</id><published>2010-02-05T16:35:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2010-02-05T16:38:21.110+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy kids</title><content type='html'>I was at mother's group, about 10 minutes ago.&lt;br /&gt;All was going well, my &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;bubba&lt;/span&gt; had not cried or been annoying for over two hours (this is like some kind of minor miracle). Then she started to do some weird humping on the floor. So strange I had never seen her so this before.&lt;br /&gt;I ignored it &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;because&lt;/span&gt; she was happy, then as we were leaving she started to lift her bottom off the floor and move her legs in.&lt;br /&gt;Ah excuse me child you are only 6 months old PLEASE STOP BEING SO CLEVER.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-4731150834090287172?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/4731150834090287172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/crazy-kids.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/4731150834090287172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/4731150834090287172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/02/crazy-kids.html' title='Crazy kids'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-4849961427432886426</id><published>2010-01-12T14:10:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T14:12:55.967+11:00</updated><title type='text'>It's hot</title><content type='html'>It's been mega hot.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not very good in the heat, but I am way worse with an extra sweaty child needing cuddles.&lt;br /&gt;Usually in the real world I go to an air conditioned work place and don't notice the heat until I get home, then chuck the noisy air con on at home until the cool change hits.&lt;br /&gt;This time I'm stuck at home, not wanting to blow the fuse in the air con.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I go to my in-laws house and hang out feeling uncomfortable and bored. But staying very very cool in their lovely house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-4849961427432886426?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/4849961427432886426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-hot.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/4849961427432886426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/4849961427432886426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2010/01/its-hot.html' title='It&apos;s hot'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-5420192658831464352</id><published>2009-12-17T05:35:00.003+11:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T06:18:00.802+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers</title><content type='html'>I just remembered something that happened many years ago. To put this in context, my parents are super Christian and pretty narrow minded about 'proper' behaviour&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was living at home with my parents after moving back in to complete  my social work degree. I was dating my NOW husband, so I would have been 22, 23ish years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents had been away, so my boyfirned and I had some people over, had some drinks etc and of course he stayed the night, we used the pull-out sofa bed becuase it could fit both of us on it. It was nothing crazy or messy. My parents came home the next morning and we were up and about, we hadn't been caught 'in the act' so to speak. It was however, very clear the boy had slept over - thankfully I had sat under my doona (on my single bed) for a little bit after showering ( I don't know why, but it was something I used to do), so it looked like we had slept in separate rooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seemed all fine, my parents very happy that the boyfriend hadn't driven home if he'd had a couple of beers, having friends over was cool, we had cleaned up well. No dramas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then........... my mother comes right out (to both of us) and says,' did you sleep together?' (it may have been more blunt, but I think I have blocked that out. Too embarassing). Anyway, knowing that this would be highly frowned upon I denied it and moved on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thinking back, I should have said: it's not really any of your business because I am over 18 and can make my own lifestyle decisions. But there is no way you could ever say anything like that to my mother. She is someone who thinks she is right and that's final. I remember her saying that if I ever wanted to live with a boyfriend without being married, they would never pay for the wedding. I feel quite angry that I have never had the balls to say that I have a different view on the world to her. Even now at 30 I don't fight her opinions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said all of this, I actually think she has made me a good social worker because people say the most outrageous stuff to me all the time, without regard for what could be socially acceptable. I can totally listen to it and agree with them (to their faces) and use their world view to work with them in coming to terms with what is happening for them in the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So although I feel anger toward my mother for being so pig-headed, and mad at myself for being a pussy, I am grateful that I have learnt to deal with people who have extreme(ish) views.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-5420192658831464352?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/5420192658831464352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/12/mothers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5420192658831464352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5420192658831464352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/12/mothers.html' title='Mothers'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-6234746499523197759</id><published>2009-11-24T12:32:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T12:42:54.655+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Attachment Parenting</title><content type='html'>Yep, that's what it's called. It's where the child is never left alone. Always held by the parents. This is also the way they are able to sleep with the parents in the same bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounds a lot like some parts of India, where the child is always held by any family member. I had a patient who was hit by a car, his wife had just given birth. They were alone in Australia, no family and she didn't speak any English. Anyway even though he had some pretty serious injuries, he wanted to get home because his wife was having to cope with always lugging the child around. It was something about bad spirits or kharma if the child was left alone. Very facinating, but sounded really frustrating to carry out when you're not surrounded by a lot of family to take the burden away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found that it gets really annoying to continuosly hold the baby, especially if you just wanted a break, or some alone time. I don't think I could ever do this. I can understand the value of being there for the child becasue it reduces the baby's stress and crying. I can also totally appreciate sleeping with the bub, given the full-on process of birth and the body needing to heal, not getting up and down to a crying baby, it's really easy to just lie down and let the child feed when it wants. I think, however it's also really important to teach the child to sleep on their own and to understand bedtimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-6234746499523197759?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/6234746499523197759/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/attachment-parenting.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/6234746499523197759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/6234746499523197759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/attachment-parenting.html' title='Attachment Parenting'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2723369717383686591</id><published>2009-11-17T15:06:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T15:12:28.477+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Karaoke</title><content type='html'>So yep as the title suggests I went to 'Baby Karaoke' today. It was held at the Nunawading library.&lt;br /&gt;There were what seemed like thousands of babies there. I popped my kid on the floor getting really excited to have a good sing-a-long.&lt;br /&gt;The lady running it did about 4 songs, then dumped a bunch of toys on the floor and went off.&lt;br /&gt;I was not very impressed. I don't remember many nursery rhymes, but they were more exciting than what this lady did. I don't think I'll go back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other astounding news, my kid has rolled over and found her toes. Both of which are really hindering the whole nappy changing process, as she likes to twist on the change table, then pick up her toes so that I can't do the nappy up well. Cute, but annoying!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2723369717383686591?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2723369717383686591/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-karaoke.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2723369717383686591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2723369717383686591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/baby-karaoke.html' title='Baby Karaoke'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-6221268169174050445</id><published>2009-11-15T07:41:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T07:47:01.398+11:00</updated><title type='text'>I am</title><content type='html'>I feel tired&lt;br /&gt;I feel fat&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel sexy&lt;br /&gt;I feel pressured&lt;br /&gt;I feel overlooked&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel sad&lt;br /&gt;I am not very happy&lt;br /&gt;I feel trapped&lt;br /&gt;I feel taken for granted&lt;br /&gt;I feel lonely&lt;br /&gt;I feel I am getting dumber&lt;br /&gt;I feel boring&lt;br /&gt;I feel bored&lt;br /&gt;I feel challenged&lt;br /&gt;Ifeel hope&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-6221268169174050445?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/6221268169174050445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/6221268169174050445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/6221268169174050445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-am.html' title='I am'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-1373279393857101743</id><published>2009-11-13T14:01:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T14:16:20.553+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Parenting?</title><content type='html'>I really don't think that it should be called parenting in the first few months of having a baby. It should be known  as 'surviving'. I have a feeling that western society expects that having children should not interfere with the real world, and then we become so shocked that these creatures need so much attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is always a question of getting enough sleep, 'how much is she sleeping?' 'are you getting enough sleep?' Babies need to sleep a lot, but they also initially need to eat, and often! we shouldn't be pushing them to conform to our rules just yet. They eventually understand that darkness means nighttime and longer sleep time and like adults they can survive longer periods without constant eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there are also too many very vocally opinionated people, who all believe they know best for your child and your family. I'm sure there are some questionable decisions with regard to what works i.e. heavy metal music might be the only thing that soothes one baby and the next can't have any noise what-so-ever, but most people pull through and everyone eventually learns how to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go here  for more discussion on co-sleeping, which triggered off my rant about babies sleep!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.abc.net.au/gnt/future/Transcripts/s1058920.htm"&gt;http://www.abc.net.au/gnt/future/Transcripts/s1058920.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-1373279393857101743?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/1373279393857101743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/parenting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/1373279393857101743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/1373279393857101743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/parenting.html' title='Parenting?'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2312214853683126395</id><published>2009-11-12T09:05:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T09:10:27.828+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Research</title><content type='html'>I have decided to give myself some homework to stop my brain from rotting away.&lt;br /&gt;My plan is to look into different cultures and the way they raise babies, specifically 'co-sleeping' with babies. I would then like to compair the rates of SIDS in these places that encourage co-sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;I have found that snoozing with my kid can be very beneficial especially when I'm exhausted, it also makes it easy to feed her when we are lying down. I couldn't spend the whole night with her because she farts and wriggles too much.&lt;br /&gt;So that's my plan. I think I'll give myself a month to get a lot of information, then I guess I better write it down in some form of paper.&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2312214853683126395?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2312214853683126395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/research.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2312214853683126395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2312214853683126395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/research.html' title='Research'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-2860932779947147034</id><published>2009-11-11T08:59:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T09:01:20.221+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that I had another baby. I just pushed it out and then said to Tristan that perhaps we should go to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;It was surprisingly easy given the extended labour I had this time.&lt;br /&gt;Gosh I'm not ready for that.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it was because I asked Tristan how many kids he wants!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-2860932779947147034?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/2860932779947147034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-had.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2860932779947147034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/2860932779947147034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-had-dream-last-night-that-i-had.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-5862887904027205401</id><published>2009-11-10T07:21:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T07:30:51.493+11:00</updated><title type='text'>What have I done?</title><content type='html'>Oh gosh, I've done it again. I requested an exboyfriend to be my friend on facebook with no message,  no nothing. I just did it on a whim just because facebook suggested I do so. Ususally I would send a message if I haven't spoken to that person in a while. And I usually have a strict policy on being friends with people I don't speak with /or want to in the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm always being a dick with this ex in particular. I remember trying to call my friend Clare on the mobile, but accidently dialled his number becuase he was one number above hers and I just didn't look. It must have been at least 1-2 years since we'd gone out (why oh why didn't I delete his number from my phone?), I'm pretty sure I was engaged, because I recall I was leaving a gym in Knox City, which means I was working in Ferntree Gully, which means I would have been engaged for nearly a year.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway I rang Chris (thinking it was clare) didn't think anything of it when the phone rang out and went to message bank..... Instead of hearing Clare's message I hear a man's voice (I still haven't worked it out yet) then I hear the name Chris.&lt;br /&gt;I hang up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why?! I should have left a funny message about thinking it was Clare's number, couldn't he see the mistake with the name, ha ha ha and all that. But NO I decide to hang up like a chicken and make it seem like I'm stalking him. And now I've totally done it again. Grrr to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-5862887904027205401?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/5862887904027205401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-have-i-done.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5862887904027205401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5862887904027205401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-have-i-done.html' title='What have I done?'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-8307493100095028126</id><published>2009-11-09T15:57:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T16:00:27.632+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Crying</title><content type='html'>The other day I was out and about witha friend and the kid.&lt;br /&gt;We noticed that the kid had tears streming down her face, but there was no noise what so ever. This is the most distressing thing I have ever seem. Ususally tears are followed by, or inconjunction with terrible screaming. This was a whole new act. I don't like it and hope the next time she does this she will be old enough to say what is wrong.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-8307493100095028126?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/8307493100095028126/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/crying.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8307493100095028126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8307493100095028126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/crying.html' title='Crying'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-8800694975298753806</id><published>2009-11-08T08:56:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T09:12:55.015+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a discussion with a friend the other day about very small minded christians. We are both from very religious backgrounds and my friend continues to be very involved in her church, I have since left any kind of organised religion yet continue to have a faith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend's husband has a very strict family who say that if anyone came to their home with alcohol they would not let them in. This seemed outrageous to me, given that the 'christian message' is supposed to be about welcoming all people, plus I'm pretty sure Jesus enjoyed a good wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got me thinking about religion and the extremes that some people will go to to uphold their beliefs, no matter how ridiculous or exclusive. I remember being a part of 'church life' and for a while it was perfect, but then I began to sit on the edges of group life and felt that I was being excluded. I think I began to step back when I could see that what people said in front of others was not what was happening in reality, yet I felt I was being myself and falling between the gaps because I was bumbling along trying to be both and (seemingly) failing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wonder how people come to faith as an adult when to me the ideas that are sprouted in churches can be very single minded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if this makes any sense, but for now I 'll keep on thinking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-8800694975298753806?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/8800694975298753806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-had-discussion-with-friend-other-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8800694975298753806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8800694975298753806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-had-discussion-with-friend-other-day.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-8109719174525197225</id><published>2009-11-06T08:19:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-06T08:26:27.286+11:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm having fun today listening to my kid chatter while she plays with her toys. It's kind of nice listening to it. i like to have noise in the house and if she's happy it makes me feel like a good(ish) mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm starting to get used to her needs, she cries for different reeasons these days. Na the smiles are so very awesome, they light up her whole face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think she is beautiful, but I think I am biased. My sister has cute kids and one friend has a cute daughter, but another has two weird looking kids with massive heads and massive eyes. I don't know if people think she's cute or if they are just saying she's cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i should leave her in a room with a microphone and listen to what people really think of her! It has to be done I think.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-8109719174525197225?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/8109719174525197225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-having-fun-today-listening-to-my-kid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8109719174525197225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8109719174525197225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/im-having-fun-today-listening-to-my-kid.html' title=''/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-8952355804650231132</id><published>2009-11-05T11:37:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T11:53:13.972+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Weddings</title><content type='html'>I went to the cutest wedding on the weekend. If I had to do ours over again I would totally copy this one.&lt;br /&gt;It was for a girl (Heidi) whom I work with, who is not prone to emotional outbursts, so to see her become emotional during the ceremony was good to see - in that way where you know that this is something she is totally passionate about.&lt;br /&gt;It was in a restaraunt that had a dance floor, so the wedding happened and then the reception followed straight after. No fluffing around for hours on end waiting for photos to happen.&lt;br /&gt;The bride's dad was lovely and funny and the speaches awesome. Her speach to her new husband was full of 'Heidiness', she's a very organised person and she knows it. She's also very bossy, yet has a humour to go with her bossiness which makes her less bossy somehow!&lt;br /&gt;They had gingerbread men and women for bon bon aries.&lt;br /&gt;The dancing was fun, the bride doing laps of the dancefloor, grabbing people from all over and making them dance with her. She grabbed me at one point and twirled me around and around. She was hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been to many weddings now and I always enjoy the simple ones the best. And of course, the real joy is the party after it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-8952355804650231132?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/8952355804650231132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/weddings.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8952355804650231132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/8952355804650231132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/11/weddings.html' title='Weddings'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-3138043701052732259</id><published>2009-10-31T11:23:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T11:34:29.737+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuppaware</title><content type='html'>I realise that a woman in her thirties is supposed to dig going to Tuppaware parties, but I hate them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get bored of the retoric "tuppaware has a lifetime guarantee" I've had many an item break and not be able to be repalced. Plus I never liked 'games' as a child, why would I enjoy them as an adult?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I went to one where they had an 'auction' and if you said crazy things you'd get 'tuppa' money, then you bid on two mystery prizes..... Turned out it was a christmas shrek cup and bowl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The woman rambled on for over two hours, not realsing that most people had tuned out or wandered off to get more drinks. Thank goodness I had my kid there and spent most of the time settling her to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having said that, I did end up buying three things, one for the kid, one for the husband and one for my mum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-3138043701052732259?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/3138043701052732259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/10/tuppaware.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3138043701052732259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/3138043701052732259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/10/tuppaware.html' title='Tuppaware'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7818995042490220448.post-5697358606677014478</id><published>2009-10-30T15:24:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2009-10-30T15:27:46.834+11:00</updated><title type='text'>First post</title><content type='html'>I decided to write a blog.&lt;br /&gt;Not sure why, but I think it will give me something to do while I'm not working.&lt;br /&gt;I guess it will be a lot about my child, but I hope to be more interesting than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new bubba is three months old. It has been a struggle, mixed in with lots of fun and many dirty nappies.&lt;br /&gt;Here we go......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7818995042490220448-5697358606677014478?l=rosiesjoys.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/feeds/5697358606677014478/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/10/first-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5697358606677014478'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7818995042490220448/posts/default/5697358606677014478'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://rosiesjoys.blogspot.com/2009/10/first-post.html' title='First post'/><author><name>Rosiesjoy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10737695938263930944</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Wn7hvaz_C5o/Svs3-QR8kwI/AAAAAAAAAAM/oj7fU9XfCB8/S220/P1030099.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
