The Time I Used To Laugh and Poke Fun at Thermomix Owners…

Alternative Title: Eating my hat

I don’t want to name any names *ahem*My Bestie Amelia*ahem* but a friend and I have a favourite pastime.

And that pastime may be to call one another up after seeing something on Facebook that has made us laugh.

Like laugh so hard we just couldn’t contain the laughter and had to call one another.

And I’m not proud of it, but sometimes that laughter is directed towards a certain group of people.

And that group of people used to be Thermomix owners.

Like the time we saw a friend of ours make a chocolate milkshake in the Thermomix and we couldn’t stop laughing (if this was you, we are sorry we laughed at you and your milkshake).

Because all you really need to make a chocolate milkshake is some chocolate drink powder and some milk – and then you put it all in a shaker and shake it.

Or just shake the crap out of the milk and then pour and stir.

WHO PAYS $2000 FOR A MACHINE AND THEN USES IT TO MAKE MILKSHAKES? WHO? Who does that? $2000 is a HOLIDAY! Not a milkshake machine!

And we laughed and we laughed and we laughed at the $2000 milkshake.

Or then there is the time everyone was making their own hazelnut spread* and peanut butter* in their Thermomix.

And MBA and I had questions about this.

Like: was it really cheaper? I mean, nuts are EXPENSIVE.

And: BUT WHY?

And: $2000 for nutella? Seriously? It better be bloody good $2000 nutella.

The butter making* also made us laugh. Because you can buy butter. Cheaply. Cream is more expensive than butter and you need cream to make butter. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE AND THEIR BUTTER?!

*All things I have made at least once in Uma

We gained much mirth from all these silly Thermomix owners and the many ways they used their Thermomixes for everything.

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My Bestie Amelia (MBA) on the Thermomix – this isn’t my image, but it sounds a lot like something she would say.

Also, Tash, I am looking at you.

Obviously to justify the cost of the machine and because godforbid someone tell them it was a waste of money.

I mean, have you ever suggested to a Thermomix owner that you don’t agree with their purchase?

All I can say is that you are lucky the TM31 doesn’t have a machine gun function.

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And then I went to a friend’s demo – to be kind and because she was excited and I was a *little* jealous she had $2000 to spend on anything and maybe just a little bit because I wanted to go home and call MBA and laugh about it.

I love you Amy. Really I do. But I thought you were a crazy person.

I had to leave half way through the demo, but the seed had been planted.

A month or so later, another friend in the same circle also bought a thermomix. And I rang Amelia:

The crazy is spreading. Now it’s only 3 houses down the road! I’m frightened.

I love you Bianca. Really I do. But I was sure you were a crazy person.

And then Bianca had her demo. And I got to attend all of it.

And I fell in love.

Over. And over. And over.

With the machine and the consultant – but that is another story.

I had been converted into one of those Thermomix cultists the world keeps talking about.

That I had been laughing about.

I only had one thing to do. Call MBA and tell her:

Get ready to laugh, Aunty. But I think I’m going to get a Thermomix.

If you get a Thermomix I will never speak to you again. I will not come to your demo. I will never attend a Thermomix demo EVER. Don’t you dare become a consultant, because I WILL NOT HAVE A DEMO! You are a crazy person. CRAZY!

Or something to that affect.

MBA likes to tell me she’s never going to speak to me again quite often, so I only take her seriously if its about really important things.

Like wearing socks with sandals and keeping stray cats.

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It’s totally OK if the socks are frilly, right?

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Now MBA has to laugh about Thermomix owners with someone else.

Actually, that’s not true. She just calls and laughs at me to get her fix.

But I’m pretty sure if I start touting the benefits of making chocolate milkshakes in Uma Thermie, she may actually divorce me as her best friend and Aunty to her children.

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Are you sure you don’t want me to weigh your baby, Aunty?

(IMAGE)

In all seriousness though, if you want to read some good, thorough and (mostly) unbiased reviews on the Thermomix – and trust me I read a LOT of reviews because I was about to lay down just shy of $2000 on a kitchen appliance and WHO DOES THAT?! – definitely start here with Be a Fun Mum.

And then maybe hop on over here. Sally Wilson’s review is the one that got ME over the line because a lot of her thought processes going into the decision to buy a Thermomix were similar to mine.

The next best review I read was this one by Iron Chef Sally.

If you want to continue to laugh at Thermomix owners, I suggest you start here. With Mrs. Woog. Who was laughing at and with TMX owners before I even knew what a TMX was.

Also this, by Hugzilla which has been suggested is mean and offensive to TMX owners, but I find hilarious despite being infected myself. This one went viral recently – for good reason.

Then you can go here and read about my own Project Uma. It’s not funny but it explains a bit more about how I plan to continue to use her.

Do you own a thermomix? Are you a cultist?

Do you laugh at milkshakes? Or just Thermomix milkshakes?

Do you need someone to laugh with? I hear there’s a position open…

Stay tuned for a post later this week on how Uma Thermie’s first month in the house has gone!

 

September.

Or, as I like to call it:

THE MONTH OF WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING!?

There’s going to be lots going on here at home – we’re beginning sorting, simplifying and spiffying up the house in preparation for our big move to Brisbane.

(Oh, yeah. We’re moving to Brisbane. In January. Because there’s just too much awesome up there to be ignored any longer.

This will be written about at length over the coming months so I don’t feel bad for not making a big announcement post or anything.

You’ll forgive AND thank me for that!)

But because I’m not about doing anything by halves, or even fulls – I’m about 5000% all the time. ALL OR NOTHING! ALLLLL! – I’m also going to be participating in not one, not two, but THREE monthly challenges.

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First up is the ever popular and enduring Fat Mum Slim Photo A Day list for September. August was the first month I ever completed in full and I had so much fun keeping up (with the help of the Little Moments App – which I have not been paid or gifted to say anything about. It’s just awesome and helps with Photo A Day for SURE!).

Video is 15 seconds. And fun!

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Next up is the Fox In Flats Style Dare A Day: 10330419_760001407392152_3955603508425747395_n

I’ve been wanting to participate in one of these since Andrea used to issue the challenges weekly (wear red lipstick every day for a week, etc).

But I’m really ridiculous about how I have to start a weekly challenge ON A MONDAY and would always forget until half way through Monday. And I have to do things at 5000% remember? and 6.5 days is NOT 7.

I also feel like I’m at a better point organisation, parenting and mental healthwise, to be able to put some real energy into my appearance in a fun way!

Finally, this is the one I am REALLY excited about:

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Created by Zoey Martin at The Shake.

Zoey is a writer and someone I have great respect and admiration for in her capacities as writer, runner, thought-provoker and just in general as a human being.

Zoey’s writing has that rare quality of having an opinion, respectfully. I never feel like my own opinion is being attacked or undermined when she writes of her own – even if my personal belief or opinion is the polar-opposite.

I feel challenged to think twice OFTEN, though.

So when she issued this challenge as the beginning of a new direction for The Shake, I felt inspired and excited and basically just am spasming with fangirl at the thought of it.

You can join in and tell us all about it in the #ShakeCreative Facebook group, or just hashtag any pics or posts on FB, Twitter and Instagram, because YES!

I’m also going to CHALLENGE MYSELF to walk at least once a day. I’m feeling very unfit after having a couple of weeks off from walking Roo to and from school each day, so with Spring in the air and in my step (see what I did there?) I’m going to pounding the pavement as much as I can!

With all that happening, things will be busy over on Instagram (@daisyrooandtwo) and the DRaT Facebook page, but there will be a few different little bits and bobs here on the blog as part of the creative challenges! I also hope to have the time to do weekly catch ups so hopefully you’ll follow along!

Are you being challenged this month? Photo, style, walk or creative a day?

Am I biting off more than I can chew? Probably, but join in the fun anyway!

Why I Don’t Have Much Sympathy

Inspired by Roo’s cold, wherein she refuses to blow her nose, sniffs constantly in my ear, won’t eat good food and drink enough water, yet expects me to comb her hair as she snorts her snot down her throat – you can thank me for that description later

Pal has mentioned a couple (like a billion) times that I am somewhat lacking in the sympathy department.

The first time he told me this, I was offended.

Me? I’m kind! I care about people. I am thoughtful and consider myself generous and unselfish with my time – if at times a little self-centred.

I’m also modest (ha!) and realistic about my personality and understand that I’m not perfect.

So I dismissed Pal’s (constructive) criticism and went on with my day.

The second time he mentioned it was in a jokingly, yet lovingly way.

Again, that I lacked sympathy.

And because I’m awesome (and modest, see above) I endeavoured to understand his point of view.

This time, it was because he was unwell. And I wasn’t being the doting nurse.

Pal had no crystal bell to ring and I may or may not have snapped at him to take some painkillers, grow a pair of hairy ones and put some concrete in his protein shake.

Ok. So maybe sympathy isn’t my thing, I thought.

But why? I feel things quite deeply. I am an emotional sponge – I am fascinated by people and constantly putting myself in their place, trying to understand their thought processes, actions, feelings.

And then it dawned on me – I’m too empathetic to be sympathetic.

I’m too busy feeling what others are feeling to feel sorry for them feeling it.

That makes perfect sense, right?

Probably not.

My next explanation is possibly that I find sympathy in general, quite patronising.

Feeling sorry for someone isn’t my thing – because I would never want someone to feel sorry for me.

Once, soon after finding out we were expecting twins, a well meaning and lovely friend said:

“Twins! Oh man! I feel sorry for you!”

I had never been so offended in my life.

Not because I felt twins and a toddler was going to be a walk in the park. No, I knew life was going to be an insane mix of sleep deprived, poo-infused hilarity.

No, I was offended because someone felt sorry for me.

Like I was a charity case – which I probably was and am, but this is beside the point.

Sympathy just seems so high and mighty. So discriminatory. So, something.

To top it off, sympathy is hard to dole out around these parts.

We have lived a somewhat extreme version of the early years of child rearing.

Three kids born within 17 months.
NICU, surgeries, twins, fires, floods, hospital visits. Tantrums. 26 nappies a day. Breastfeeding, mixed feeding. 6 loads of washing a day. Zombie eye disease. Asthma. Congenital Heart Disease(s).

It’s kind of hard to feel sorry for someone with a headache when you’ve lived with a migraine for 6 months straight. You know?

So no, I’m not particularly sympathetic.

I don’t feel sorry for people often. I don’t pander, pamper, nor answer the chimes of crystal bells rung from sick beds.

I can be impatient with my family if they are unwell for an extended period of time – or won’t blow their noses – or even if they are just too complainy.

It’s added stress and work and inconvenience and I just don’t have time.

So, I guess the solution is simply to be mindful that some people need a little extra care and love when they aren’t feeling well.

Also concrete and painkillers. But maybe I’ll just grind those into the shakes rather than mention them in future…

Are you sympathetic? Do you need sympathy?
Do you want me to pass you the concrete? Not even for your partner’s protein shakes?

All the way

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You know what gets me the most?

That they all grew inside me.

That for a little while, we were all the same person.

It’s a story as old as time – pregnancy, child-birth, child-rearing.

But for me it’s this huge spin out.

They were nothing but microscopic cells inside my body, and then all of a sudden they were people!!

The emotional roller coaster I have been on these past few months is catching up with me.

But these tiny humans, that I MADE (!) have these most beautiful faces.

Obviously they are asleep, and the cherub-like innocence rushes out with their breath and engulfs me.

They breathe me into their web of love.

Their oxygen is my oxygen. My blood their blood.

My father once said to me:

“All you want for your children is to reach their potential, and find partners who love and compliment them.”

He didn’t mean partners who tell us we’re pretty (that doesn’t hurt, though, Pal…)

He meant partners that suit us, that balance us. That make us better people. And he meant that I had found that in Pal.

As for potential – I MADE TINY HUMANS! IN MY BODY!!!

And I am working SO HARD to raise them to be kind and loving people in a world that often flays kindness and love from a person’s soul.

As each shred of skin is stripped from us, the raw nerves are exposed. Toughening us, teaching us that there is no currency in kindness. That love hurts.

And love does hurt, so much. So awfully and desperately and unrelentingly. Love hurts.

Especially when unconditional love is withheld.

And so I choose to break a cycle. Hoping desperately that I am not unwittingly perpetuating it.

I love my children. I love who they have been – those tiny cells.
I love who they are – these little people with big hearts and big dreams and big feelings.

I love – wholly and unconditionally – all they will ever be. I always will.

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