Andrea Edwards

I’m going out on a limb here and speaking on behalf of the mummy sisterhood, but it’s time for it to be said. I need to tell you why mums are averse to sex. It begins with pregnancy. Three things happen during this time – your sex drive stays the same, you become a nymphomaniac, or you are so turned off sex you can think of nothing worse. Blokes can also get turned off too. That’s not good if you go the nympho route. The thing that surprised me is you have no idea which way you’ll go once pregnant. It’s a lottery. But after your bundle of joy arrives that’s when everything REALLY changes. Your pregnancy sex drive (or lack of) becomes a distant memory and you can look back on that time with some perspective. It’s a weird period for your body being pregnant. It’s a weird time for your sex drive too. You put it behind you. You have no choice. Motherhood is a series of moving ons. Then they’re here. If you’re breastfeeding, every 2-4 hours there’s a baby attached to your boob – which means you are completely immobilized during that time. But beyond the boob, they must be held, cradled through the night, they cry for no apparent reason, you’re exhausted, it’s intense, but seriously, that first year is the easiest year. From my experience I felt that while they are relatively immobile, things were good. That’s another thing you appreciate in hindsight. And to those women who worry about their kids not walking before two, as long as there is no issue being confronted about your child’s development – I say “don’t worry about it. Do you know how fucking lucky you are?” My two got mobile at four months (leopard crawling) and by 11/12 months they were running, not walking. I had no idea at the beginning how quickly my peace would be over. In fact, I never had any peace. I’m only starting to get it back now. Once your children are on the move, life becomes chaotic madness. You have children with no logic or sense of danger, and their extreme emotions rule your life. They’re on their feet and on the move every waking hour of the day. The stand on you, hit you (accidentally), bite you (not accidentally), leave toys for you to step on, you trip over your kids, they trip over you, they run to you for cuddles when hurt, cry because they’re tired, and take all of their emotions out on you. That list can go on. So, by the time bedtime comes around, you close your child’s door with relish in your heart and a skip in your step. All you want to do is sit down and not speak. We also celebrated another day our kids survived unscathed (most of the time). Not everyone has to do that, of course, but we did. And at the end of all of that, your husband/partner/significant other/the father of your children gives you a nudge nudge wink wink and all you want to say is “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” But you can’t of course, no matter how much you want to. Most of the time it’s a case of “love, I’m sorry but not tonight, I just can’t.” But they have their needs too and sometimes you have to say: “sure love, it’s been on my mind all day too, I couldn’t think of anything better right now…” Two things are happening here, I believe. Your subconscious mind is screaming “are you fucking crazy? Don’t you know that sex is what got us into this situation in the first place?” And two, the thought of anyone touching you, needing you, cuddling you, demanding anything from you, is nothing short of revolting. And then time moves on, your kids need you less, they still love a cuddle but are not so physically demanding anymore, and all of a sudden, you look at your husband and give HIMa nudge nudge wink wink. I reckon I’m getting closer to that these days. It’s a bit of a relief I must say. Steve is rather delighted about it too. Anyone else relate to my experience? Am I speaking on behalf of the mummy sisterhood here? Or did you become a raving nymphomaniac after the kids were born? I’d love to know. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea BTW I’m on Twitter here, Google+ here, and Facebook too, if you’re interested in the other stuff I share. Feel free to share my blog if you think anyone else you know will be interested. I sure do appreciate it when you do xxxxx

Yep. Why you ask? So we can meet the Hobby Kids of course! Like duh! Don’t know who they are? Well let me enlighten you.  It’s a family that does: “Fun kid friendly videos on YOUTUBE! We feature popular brands like: Play-Doh, Toys, Legos. We create Stories, Play, Songs, Reviews, Box Openings. HobbyKidsjoin the fun in our videos which helps kids interact and enjoy learning while being entertained.” Steve despises them. Jax adores them. Lex couldn’t give a crap about them. And I find it all a bit bemusing. I’m not as gung-ho about what the kids watch as Steve is, because as long as it’s not violent, foul, cruel, about death or human dismemberment, I don’t really care. I also live in the content/influencer world professionally, and while these children and the Hobby Parents, Hobby Baby, Hobby Pa, etc… are all a bit annoying, it’s hasn’t been created for me. It’s for Jax. And he can’t get enough of them. From a business point of view, this family is onto a winner. They are probably making millions. However, if there is one problem I do have it is how YouTube stars focused on kids are influencing children all around the world to buy more shit toys than they need. But I can’t take this gripe out on the Hobby Family specifically, because there are hordes of people making YouTube videos about toys. Besides, I still believe it’s my responsibility to ensure my boys aren’t spoilt little shits. Not theirs. YouTube stars come from all walks of life these days, and the ones who get the ‘magic’ right and appeal to a targeted audience are a force to be reckoned with. They are also becoming a force brands are starting to appreciate and nurture. That’s why Disney bought Makers Studio. It’s a phenomenal opportunity for brands and people who want to be stars, even if it happens accidentally. Oh and in case you’re looking for someone to beat up, they now “own” Stampylongnose. Yeah another annoying voice that has infested our home… But the boys love him too! With that said, the BEST YouTube star we love and watch with the boys is Grant Thompson – “The King of Random.” Check it out if you don’t know him. Amazeballs. When I think about this stuff, I know this is where entertainment is moving today. It’s not always pretty, it’s not always classy, but most people aren’t doing any harm, and the successful ones are making a decent living at it. When I feel the resistance of people in my age bracket, I can’t help but think the entertainment world we grew up with is going away completely and we are all struggling to wrap our minds around this new model. It kind of feels a bit like the Elvis and Beatles of this generation – you know, that rock ’n ’roll thing will never catch on. We might be thinking the same of YouTube stars…. For me personally, I am pretty ambivalent about the whole thing, and sometimes, if it keeps Jax occupied for 5-10 minutes so I can have a shower in peace, that’s all I need. One thing for sure, if the Hobby Kids go on the road and do a global tour (something that is happening more and more with YouTube stars these days), I know one little guy that will be nagging me for tickets. I hope Steve agrees to take him. Yeah right. No chance. Just so I’m not alone here, let me share the bounty of the Hobby Kids. First up, Hobby Mom with a pretty impressive manicure But there’s some exercise encouragement in there too It’d make Jax’s day if we did this – seriously tempted, but I just can’t do it… not even to delight my mini love. You got the wrong mum in that regard love Suffice to say, my kids would be pulling the same funny faces if that was me speaking in front of a camera….   So now over to you. What shite are your children watching on YouTube today? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

When I hear that question, or that same question in regards to any other animal, bug, sea creature, or extinct animal – including all dinosaurs – mentioned by my little fella Lex, I know I must stop everything I’m doing and give him my full attention, because for as long as I am willing to be his audience, he’s going to teach me everything there is to know about ducks. Lex with a baby chicken in Vietnam I’m going to learn about: what they eat; how they have babies; the different breeds; the different habitats; whether or not they’re predators; and so much more. I have come to appreciate that my mind is going to be blown in these learning interludes and I love them. When Lex decided to start sharing his learnings consistently – which was only a few months back – there were many times when I asked if he was right. He always responded with ‘I think so’ and then we consulted trusty Cortana. One such question was about sharks. Do sharks have babies or lay eggs? I thought they had babies, he thought they laid eggs, on further search, it appeared we were both right. Who knew? Now I do. He then kept speaking about the Sonori Desert (always singing Sonori) and I’m like, are you sure it’s called Sonori mate? You’re not speaking about the Sahara Desert? Nope, always the Sonori. On further investigation, there is a desert in the US called the Sonora Desert. So Lex was right again in his own special way. I’d never heard of it, but looks like a fabulous place if you want to meet a rattle snake – he knows all about them too. Another recent fascination was the Gela Monster – a venomous lizard that lives in the Sanora desert of course. He kept saying Heela Monster and I am searching for it, with a h and not having much luck. Then a link suggestion comes up for Gela Monster. I know all about them now too. Jax was loving it too  To say I’m pretty chuffed with my Lexy is an understatement. This is the lad who’s had a hard time catching up with his speech and getting ahead at school. I’ve always said he needed time and love, because he’s smart as hell, so when I hear him speak now, shite, I get blown away. Enunciation is still an issue, so I’m thinking acting or singing could be the answer? I don’t know. We’re on the final hurdle it feels, but it’s been a long haul let me tell you. Another bonus is it might get Jax to stop watching crappy toy videos. Last week Jax declares: “Lex is really smart mum.” Well of course that got a lot of: so are you mate, you’re super smart, etc, etc, etc… But then I sat down with Jax and said, you know why Lex knows all these things? Because when he’s on YouTube he’s watching Discovery Channel or National Geographic learningabout them. You’re watching videos of spoilt kids getting too many toys. Maybe if you watch things that teach you something you can share your knowledge with us too? This morning, I took Jax to his swim lesson at school and Lex came along for the ride. All the way there, both boys were competing for my attention to share their latest creature learnings. We covered lemmings, barnacles, sea snakes, star fish, slugs, leeches, and so much more. It was awesome. Now they need to learn to give each other a turn when speaking, but we’ll leave that for another day. When you’ve been waiting to see a passion revealed in your child, it’s really awesome when that day comes, don’t you agree? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

It has begun. The sex talks. Crikey, how does one prepare themselves for this? So I’m bathing the boys last night and Lex asks me: “Mum what are my balls for?” Jax thinks this is a pretty good question and perks up considerably… Firstly, I don’t know when balls entered their vocabulary, but it has, and secondly, my word you have to draw a big breath when that question is asked don’t you? “Well boys, when you’re a little bit older and a very big boy, you’ll have tiny tiny tadpoles in your balls.” “What’s a tadpole?” Jax asks. “You know, like baby frogs are tadpoles, you’ll also have tadpoles in your balls. But they’ll be tiny and you won’t be able to see them.” “What are they for mum?” “Well the tadpoles go into the egg, which is in the ladies tummy, and that is how babies are made.” Oh crap, that was useless! But the boys didn’t think so. They thought it was awesome. Lex immediately allocated sexes to his balls – girl babies in this one, boy babies in that one – and then of course, the next question was asked. “But mum, how do my tadpoles get to the egg to make a baby. Does it go in the ladies mouth?” Considering some of the nature documentaries they watch, this is not a bad observation, but obviously, it’s not correct. So I try and explain the process a little more… “Well you see your doodle gets hard, and the tadpoles come out. You put your doodle in the ladies muey and the tadpoles travel to the egg and that is how a baby is made.” This answer wasn’t providing enough clarity. They couldn’t put this concept together. Which is completely natural, because the structure of the muey remains alien to them for now… So I finished with this very fine statement, wishing that Steve could come home right now to help me in this discussion: “listen guys, there is one thing I can promise you. When the time comes, you’re going to enjoy it a lot OK.” “Oh look guys, something shiny.” There endeth the lesson and I know it won’t be my last sex talk. So many things I should’ve said differently. Why did I say tadpoles and not sperm? But tadpole makes more sense right? AHHHHHHH the only thing I care about is they grow up comfortable with sex. I don’t want it to be weird. Fascinating sure, but not weird. I got enough of that shit in my upbringing. So I’ve had my first rehearsal, but may my skit improve. Any advice for those with more experience than I? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea PS: in a few years, my boys will be entering into the deep, dark world of puberty. At that point, I will completely respect their privacy and never, ever blog about private discussions. Right now, they’re working the world out, and I think it’s pretty cool. My ability to share these stories will not last forever, so for now, I’ll enjoy it. 

I’m reading Amanda Palmer’s book “The Art of Asking” (love her, loving the book, will write more when I finish it) and this is how the book starts. “Who’s got a tampon? I just got my period, I will loudly announce to nobody in particular in a women’s bathroom in a San Francisco restaurant, or to a co-ed dressing room of a music festival in Prague, or to the unsuspecting gatherers in a kitchen at a party in Sydney, Munich or Cincinnati. “Invariably, across the world, I have seen and heard the rustling of female hands through backpacks and purses, until the triumphant moment when a stranger fishes one out with a kind smile. No money is ever exchanged. The unspoken universal understanding is: “Today, it is my turn to take the tampon. “Tomorrow it shall be yours. “There is a constant, karmic tampon circle. It also exists, I’ve found, with Kleenex, cigarettes, and ballpoint pens. “I’ve often wondered: are there women who are just TOO embarrassed to ask? Women who would rather just roll up a huge wad of toilet paper into their underwear rather than dare to ask a room full of strangers for a favor? There must be. But not me. Hell no. I am totally not afraid to ask. For anything. “I am SHAMELESS.” Now firstly – how’s that for a cracking start for a brand new book? I am totally hooked. But equally, she instantly challenged me, because Amanda darling, I am one of those people who never ask. I have not, and will not, ever ask a room full of strangers for a tampon. Rather than being a ‘wadder’ though, I prefer to focus on always being prepared – all month long – so I never EVER get caught out. Preparation in Asia is also critical, because many countries in this region do not embrace the tampon, preferring external options instead. But it’s not that I have a problem being asked for a tampon or sharing the goods with a woman in need. It’s not even that I’m embarrassed to ask. It’s just that I don’t like to make a public hoo-hah about being on the ‘blob’. Being ‘up on the blocks’ is my personal torment and I’m just not a sharer of that. I’d also generally prefer not knowing when others are experiencing the same. I don’t know why I feel this way. Is it part of my Catholic heritage with all of that shame and guilt about the body? Is it the way my mother handled the puberty years (not very well, a lot of embarrassment for me)? Or perhaps the fact I HATED the whole “becoming a woman” shite in my teenage years and despised how people stopped seeing me and started seeing my tits? I didn’t find it easy ‘coming of age,’ going from a runty 12 year old body to a set of DD cup chest puppies. Too much attention came with that. Attention I didn’t want and wasn’t ready for. It took me a long time to get comfortable with the whole woman thing, but I’ve always admired women who grew into their bodies completely comfortably. That’s brilliant, and I wish it could be me, but it’s not. It’s probably also the reason I’ve always surrounded myself with women who are like that, because I love and admire them. But getting back to being ‘on the blob.’ Most people around me growing up in Australia were probably quite similar to me and I don’t remember a lot of talking about “that time of the month.” Then again, maybe they just knew not to talk about it in front of me? Then I moved to London, and in the early weeks of my four-plus-year stint, a woman came out of the toilet and said “I’m on.” I replied “you’re on what?” “You know, I’m on.” Still blank here love. But quickly worked out “I’m on” can be loosely translated as: “I’m up on the blocks” – husband favorite “I’ve got my rags” – Albury / Wodonga, Victoria, Australia terminology “The painters are in” – another husband favorite “Flying the Japanese flag” – no one in particular “The red tide has arrived” – yep another hubby fav. He’s awesome with women’s stuff and buys my tampons happily, annoyingly always the correct ones too “Aunt Flo has arrived” – used by others, but never me Care to share your favorite descriptor in the comments? (BTW if you’re interested in a mildly amusing tampon ad, the Russians did a pretty good job here. The lady in white is always better prepared at period time right?) I have to say, of all the places I’ve been in the world, it is the British women that come up trumps for being the crassest bitches on the planet. Crass in a marvellous way, and I discovered I paled into insignificance alongside British ladies. That was a surprise for me, due to the British reputation for being demure, and because I did have a reputation for being a crass bitch myself… but never when it came to ‘lady stuff.’ I had my limits. For whatever reason, I’m just not one of those “sharing the sisterhood moments” kind of girl. My mate Lorna asked me to watch her birth video. “Fuck off. Why the hell would I want to watch that? You think that will encourage me to have one myself?” I also couldn’t think of anything worse than having a gaggle of gal-pals present during my two birth moments, and my mum especially was not welcome. My husband was there, but only at the top-end first time round. Second time he actually delivered Jax. I got over myself a bit by that point. There’s a video somewhere – couldn’t find it – where one of the ladies in the Dixie Chicks is giving birth and the whole band is in the room. I loved them for that, but it is never, ever my bag. I often

For the first time EVER, our friend Felicia (who met our treasures for the first time on the weekend) said: “your children are a credit to you.” Yep, someone has said that. Out loud. And there were witnesses and everything. Our reaction? Shock first. Then we looked at each other, wide-eyed and burst out laughing. Seriously? Our little buggers? You’re actually talking about those two guys, the boys over there sitting on top of the spa, eating chips and getting them everywhere, the ones about to throw rocks off the balcony if we don’t get there first, those two dudes working out in the outdoor gym – the gym exclusively for adults, those maniacs getting filthy, dropping the occasional F-bomb in a context they heard on a ‘children’s’ video on YouTube? Those two? Really? The outdoor gym at a wedding – perfect distraction Someone finally thinks they’re um… well… good! Well behaved even. AWESOME!! We couldn’t believe it, but secretly we’re both thrilled, because they are a credit to us. They’re awesome. Annoying pains in the arse absolutely. But they are completely awesome, and funny, so bloody funny. My word. The challenge is we don’t want them to be “good.” I hate it when they say to me “but we just want to be good mum.” I always say: you are good mate, but sometimes you don’t make good decisions, that’s a different thing. There’s no good or bad darling. We all make bad decisions. This good/bad malarkey doesn’t sit well with me at all. But I really don’t want my boys to be good. I want them to be marvelous. Courageous. Ambitious in whatever way that emerges. Curious. Funny. Irreverent. Silly. Adventurous. Expressive. Emotionally intelligent. And a whole lot more. More than anything, though, I want them to be happy. We had another little accolade this week. Lex came home with the pictured star, an award for being obedient. OBEDIENT? I look at Steve and recognize that at this moment, all this mother is required to do is give her son an enthusiastic high five for his achievement. But an award for obedience – yuk! I don’t like that at all. My children ARE NOT obedient and good on them for that. I want them to challenge everything, especially me. I don’t have it all right, I don’t have all the answers, because no one does. So teachers, give my boys awards, but you can keep the obedient star in future OK? Anyone with me here? What’s the “worst” award you’ve seen, even if others think it’s a “good” thing? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

About a month ago, Steve had a nightmare that Jax fell off something very high and then he woke up. After sharing that little horror with me, I started having similar dreams. Heights and I aren’t friends. At the age of 25, crossing a log in Nepal over a creek (it wasn’t even high), I seized up in the middle, terrified and that was it, I’ve had a shocking thing with heights ever since. It’s been a pain in the arse, because before that, I was a cliff-climbing, bridge-jumping lunatic. The glass lift to Marble Mountain, Vietnam Today, being up high can give me vertigo – whether it’s standing on a balcony in a skyscraper, or climbing the steps to a water-slide in Bali – I am a mess. If I think about crossing the string bridges on the Annapurna trek in Nepal now (which I did before the log incidence) it leaves me gasping for breath as I try to go to sleep. So with this inherited nightmare, I was convinced something terrible was going to happen when we were in Vietnam. It got off to a great start in the first week in Halong Bay. We were having a night swim and Jax thought it would be a good idea to run around the slippery edge of an infinity pool with a two story drop the other side. Steve and I screamed in unison: “get in the bloody pool mate and don’t do that again!” Jax got the message. I didn’t sleep well that night. Anxiety dreams filled my head as the rest of the family snored in peace. However, I was hoping that the dreams would go now. The first week was done, with no falls, so perhaps I could relax a little? Not likely. I got him, don’t worry love As we were driving from Hue to Hoi An, we drove past Marble Mountain, and way off into the distance, we could see this glass elevator scaling the side of a cliff – that was how you got up there. I said to Steve no way we’re doing that. He knew how many anxiety attacks I was having and agreed that we’d give it a skip. But then we had a day in Denang, with our mates Sam and Dave. I hadn’t shared my nightmare with them and they had no idea I was feeling this way. We had big hopes of Denang being a knock out city, but alas, it is one of those places I never expect to return to. However, we had plenty of time to fill that day, and as we drove back to Hoi An, the car took a right at the entrance to Marble Mountain. SHITE!! Steve looked at me and knew exactly how I was feeling. “You stay in the car love. I’ll take them and I promise I won’t let Jax out of my sight.” No bloody way was I staying put. Not because I didn’t trust Steve (I do with every inch of my being), I just couldn’t sit in the car, anxiously waiting for them to return, not knowing what was going on. We went up the mountain, and it was bloody AMAZING. We also kept a VERY close eye on Jax, with most of the photos showing one of us holding tight to our little man. Naturally, they regularly ran off, forcing Steve or I to scramble after them, banging our knees and hips on the impossibly steep marble stairs. But it’s well worth a visit. Incredible that something so beautiful was built so high in a mountain. Humans are amazing. By the time we got to the bottom, I can’t tell you how relieved I was that nothing terrible happened. And then when I got back to work, I found this Huffpost article – Why Nightmares Might Actually Be Good For You – perhaps it’s right and it’s just my brains’ way of putting my fears behind me? Holding onto his shirt I don’t know. I don’t feel completely relaxed about Jax going out adventuring yet, but as he’s the more cautious one, I’ve just got to believe he’ll be OK. Bloody kids I tell ya! In the meantime, Steve is NOT allowed to share those nightmares with me again. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea 

Alas, another great adventure comes to a conclusion and the crazy life we’re living in Singapore returns to normal, quickly, oh so quickly. But that’s what it’s all about. We work our arses off to get out there and see this magnificent world every chance we get. It’s the only motivation I’ve ever had for making a living. The boys got some custom cowboy boots made in Hoi An. They wore them to breakfast – noice! While I’ve been to too many places to count alone, as well as more adventuring with Steve, I have to say travelling with my mini-loves brings a whole new dimension to the experience. I love being out there with them. I love how they engage with the world. I love the simple pleasures they find – like chickens… who knew? Sure there are definitely times when it’s not a lot of fun, and they can moan – my word they can moan – but all in all, I’d say my dudes are great travelers. In Asia, they love kids, but in many of the developed countries they won’t necessarily openly engage with kids – especially if we’re around. This was not a problem in Vietnam. Everywhere we went, the boys were told they were so handsome, and as the mother, I was told I was so lucky. I was getting a bit annoyed with the lucky-to-have-two-boys-bit until my friend Sam told me she heard the same thing about having two girls. Maybe it’s the two thing? Maybe it’s just because they love children? Maybe children are just a sign of good luck and fortune in a country coming out of a pretty bleak time? Whatever it is, everywhere we went, complete strangers were reaching out and touching them. Motorbikes would stop as we were about to negotiate a road to tell the boys how handsome they were. A whole school year in Halong Bay insisted on having group photos with the boys. The teachers insisted on photos with Steve. It was great. I loved it. But sometimes the boys found it all a bit much. “Mum why are they staring at me? Tell them to stop.” We had to wait at a strip club for our train to Hue. One day the boys will understand this sign Lex is definitely the more curious of our two lads, so when we caught the night train from Hanoi to Hue I decided to take him on a walk. We were at the shiny end, with clean toilets, good aircon and beds, so as we walked further and further down the train, the standards drop significantly. By the time we got to the comfortable chairs (we didn’t make it to the wooden slat benches) the arms started reaching out, touching Lex, wanting to talk to him. He was having none of that, turning around to leg it back to our cabin for the rest of the ride. That was a good result. It would’ve been tedious heading up and down the train with him, like we used to do on planes when they were toddlers. All up I’d say that Vietnam is awesome. I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get there and now I’ve been twice in a year! It’s definitely a country coming into its own, and the people are truly magnificent – friendly, open, warm, engaging. However, within the next five years – based on the construction we saw everywhere – it’ll be a whole new country. Some of it will be better, some will be a sad loss (its history is so rich, we can only hope they value it), but you can’t stop progress, as they say Where ever it heads as it develops, I can definitely recommend it to anyone who’s been thinking about a visit. If you’ve got kids, more so. They’re completely welcome. I would suggest, however, that you check the weather before flying off. We managed to get the hottest temperatures Vietnam has experienced since records began, and it was hot, really REALLY hot. Singapore actually feels quite cool today at a balmy 31 degrees celsius. So now it’s time for the next adventure to be planned. We’re tossing up Myanmar or Sri Lanka… both have such appeal! Then again, I think Steve would insist on a beach holiday next… We’re pretty tired after this trip. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea