A bag left on a bus

As I rode my normal crowded bus to work this morning, there were the usual passengers balancing bags, mobile devices, books, children, schoolbags, suit jackets {it was a little to warm to actually wear them today} and coffee. A morning just like any other.

The guy sitting opposite me had a bag on his lap and a few shirts and suit jacket on hangers balanced on the hand rail above him. I looked at him and thought he’s probably stocking up so he can run or ride into work and has changes of clothes at the ready in his office. Then I went back to reading the morning news.

A few moments and the first major city stop later, a woman two seats from me asked me if I thought it was suspicious that there was a bag under the seat – seemingly a bag on its own.

A bag left on a bus.

I looked up at her, over at the bag {a nondescript dark blue canvas shopping bag, the contents of which were not visible from where I was sitting} then returned my attention to her and the woman between us.

Oh, there was a guy sitting there who had a gym bag and some shirts hanging up, I’d say it’s got more of his stuff in it and he just left it behind when he got out.

Then I thought to myself: I hope they aren’t my last words.

As soon as I thought it I was disappointed. Disappointed that was my immediate thought. Disappointed that the world we live in and the news we are fed daily incites those thoughts.

I tried to remember what the guy looked like, but you know what? He looked like every other person around me. We live in a very multicultural city so every man is really any man{woman/child}. We are all Australians and I know that all people, no matter their race, religion or country of origin, are capable of committing horrific crimes. I sent up a little request to my Guardian Angel to spare me and everyone on the bus from being the subjects of any terror attack.

I also asked my Daddy to make sure the guy got his stuff back!

A bag left on a bus

{Not the bag – this one’s from Google}


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The B side

What would the A-side be without the B?
Lonely? Unnoticed? Ordinary?
Kind of like the B-side usually feels probably.

Life at bumpyroadtobubba is not always A-side, but it does tend toward that. Which is totally because most of our life feels A-side worthy. Not because we travel around the world first class, but because we both consciously try to see the joy and beauty in the every day. We are happy, we have love, we have laughter and we have puppy dogs.

Not that Love Bug needs to do it consciously. As an almost-five year old child she does find wonder and joy in the simplest things. I aspire to be move like her!

With the A-side there does come a B-side though. Weeks like last week when I woke up with a rotten cold on Tuesday but by early evening Love Bug had been hit head on with a gastro bug. So I had to push my cold aside and be on high alert. Not a wink of sleep that night {or the next day}. At her peak she vomited 11 times in ten hours. Her temperature spiked at almost 41*C and the poor little love was miserable. When the vomiting slowed the tummy cramps started.

Through my fog of cold and my hyper-alert mumma concern I cared for my Love Bug. At 2am as I pulled my third load of washing for the night out of the machine I also needed to clear the door seal of the chunks of vomit. Such a glamorous task. At that very moment in time I could think of approximately 84 million things I’d rather be doing. But in the same thought I knew there is nowhere in the world I would be but here.

doesn't seem fair

After 48 hours: doesn’t really seem fair that she looks so cute and I look, well … not!

We limped towards the end of the week utterly exhausted. I’m glad to say a week later she is back to her usual peppy self and eating normally again.

Of course, my cold seems to have noticed that and has hit me again. Just when I thought it was gone! It was really only hiding until I could deal with it again!

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Nothing less than a miracle

Courage and amazing consequential perspectives.

In light of the horror experienced around the world over the weekend, listening to Kay Wilson speak is well worth fifteen minutes of your time today.

Nothing short of a miracle

{Click on photo for talk}

Kay Wilson is a British-born Israeli tour guide, jazz musician and cartoonist. She is the survivor of a brutal terror attack that occurred while she was guiding in December 2010.

That she is here to tell her story really is nothing less than a miracle.

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Congratulations, you’re pregnant. Here’s your daughter’s school uniform.

Congratulations, you’re pregnant.
Here’s your daughter’s school uniform.

Wait, what? Where did the 33 years in between those two statements go? Okay, so it’s 33 dog years and really only five and a bit human years, but surely it should have felt more like dog years and less like 84 seconds?!!

This week we had our last Transition to Kindergarten morning. Among other things it was the morning to buy school uniforms. Yes, I did say that, but it’s worth repeating: SCHOOL UNIFORMS. Of course our whole family were there for this big event in our Love Bug’s life. There was much coordination to ensure we could all be there!

I’m not sure the ladies at the uniform shop are used to whole families being there, taking a million photos and trying to grasp the vision of this little person in front of us wearing a big school uniform. One of the earlier weeks they had suggested we could just buy the uniforms online. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the adventure? The celebration? BIG school is a BIG deal. It’s a time of BIG excitement, of a BIG new chapter, a BIG gulp and a BIG bite back of tears when I saw my bubba in that BIG uniform.

Congratulations, you're pregnant. Here's your daughter's school uniform.

Seriously, the uniform is enormous on her. It’s a size 4 and she and one of her other little friends could probably fit in it together at this moment in time. After patiently letting us all oooh and aaahh at her {and take a few more photos} in each piece of the uniform, she happily ran off to play with the other incoming kindy kids. While the first day of school will have its own BIG place in our lives, I’ll never forget the first moment I saw her in a school uniform.

At that moment, I remembered the phone call to tell me I was pregnant, I remembered holding her in recovery at the hospital, I remembered her saying gog {dog} and mumma for the first time, and I remembered the smile on her face when she woke up on BIG uniform morning. All in an instant. And now we have a section in her wardrobe for school uniforms.

I’m so proud of my gorgeous girl. We did good so far!

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Inspired and inspiring

henry ford

My friend Martin is doing well. Really well. But we need your help to spread the news so we can get his Inspired Engine crowd funded into reality.

What is an Inspired Engine? According to his Kickstarter page, A 3D printed pneumatic motor that uses a low friction Rolamite piston. This is a proof of concept prototype.

Confused? So was I and he’s explained it to me a gazillion few times. Luckily I can now just watch the video of him explaining it and not have to ask {too many} questions.

If you could share this link far and wide we’d all appreciate it. Let’s turn this dream into reality – my friend’s idea is inspired. And he is inspiring!

He thinks he can. I think he can too.

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A house without puppy love

Is no fun. Seriously. I don’t like it one bit.

I can pee in peace.
When I’m showering, there is no snout to poke in and give my leg a little lick.
When I’m done showering, there is no guard dog to welcome me back from the brink of the drain.
When I walk I am no longer the Pied Piper. There is no scurrying behind me.
When I open the pantry door I have no company immediately at my side wondering what tasty morsel I might be reaching for {and willing to share}.
I have my bed to myself. Well, the small section Love Bug isn’t occupying at least.
I talk to myself. A lot.
There is no glorious welcome home each time I open the front door.
There is a lot less love.

A house without puppy love

A house without puppy love is no fun. Seriously.


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Don’t get too comfy

My alarm went off, so I hit snooze – which I always do once!

A little voice snuggled in behind me piped up:

Don’t get too comfy mumma, I need a piggy back.

Don't get too comfy

I am still laughing. Don’t get too comfy?

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