Ella's first visit from the tooth fairy!!!

Why, oh why, do I feel so sad?

UPDATE: It gets better. Tim just accidentally tipped our daughter's first tooth down the sink.

Oh what a night...

An absolutely rockin night at the Paddo was had last night, a night so rockin in fact, that the 'g' has now been permanently removed from its descriptor.

Don't bother reading on if you don't feel like it. I just want to record this for sweet posterity:

- rocked up early to meet up with my mates Kel and Sam, who have only just gotten back from an 18-month globetrotting stint, only to firstly bump into Ang and Izzy, two of my favourite girlies in the entire world (we used to live together in a mad sharehouse - as if there's any other kind). Beers were clinked. ROCK.

- performed in what turned out to be a wicked night at the Sit Down, where the reunion expanded to include my fellow comedic mate in crime Damien Power, then my dear hubby surprised me by showing up and joining in the after-show merriment upstairs. DOUBLE ROCK.

- enjoyed hanging with some of the funniest people in the world. One thing that eats at me about this crazy jam-packed existence is that there's really only two sides to it: performing and family. Both of which kick buttocks in their own way, but sadly I feel like I've let the friendship factor fall by the wayside a bit. I hate myself for it, but the state of things of late is that unless mates come to gigs or we catch up with the kiddlies - not exactly conducive to deep and uninteruppted conversation - I really don't see any of them anymore. So to spend last night with people who make me laugh more than anything - official and unofficial comedians included - in off-duty mode no less (both family and work-wise) was just what the doctor ordered.

Timmy, Sam, Kel, Izy, Ang and the respectively bloody brilliant Lindsay Webb and Mickey D: I love yersh.

PS My wonderful Timmy even let me sleep in this morning. PHYSICAL ROCK.

2 and a bit weeks to go: AAGH!

Is it true that everybody feels terrified - even to the point of wondering if they've made the wrong decision - before major life upheavals?

Losing it in the Visa Queue in front of Shane from Neighbours

Gees I'm resenting beauracracy lately, not least because I'm not even 100% sure how to spell it. It's always been there, of course, but lately it's like it's taking over my life. Just when I get one bit of paperwork done, there's another. And another. And another. Today has been no different - I won't bore you with administrative details, but let me just tell you that as the admin requirements and FEES have continued fo pile up, I've been wondering quite often whether we are quite honestly insane in even trying to tackle such a ridiculous mission.

Just last Wednesday Tim and I had to fly to Sydney to get our US visas - basically so we can flit back and forth over the Canadian border until our little hearts are content - which would have been straightforward (still expensive, but straightforward) had I not lost my passport.

AAGH!

We tore the house to pieces looking for it (sorry landlord) but no luck. After much umming and ahing over what to do, we ended up flying down anyway, figuring that Tim and the kids could at least get theirs and I'd just have to fly back another time once I'd found/replaced my p'port.

To cut a very long and frustrating story short, the punchline is that after an unbelievable morning from hell trying to accumulate all the relevant paperwork in time for our US Consulate interview, I ended up spitting the dummy, running full-ball up to the visa processing office and bawling my eyes out...only to look up and realise that Peter O'Brien aka Shane from Neighbours (he was one of my fave dudes ever back when he was fighting Des for Daphne way back in the day) aka the lead guy from White Collar Blue aka the hubby of Miranda Otto from Lord of the Rings and other stuff, was sitting right there, looking up at me and offering a sympathetic smile.

I avoided eye contact and pretended it was not happening.

I was not crying. Not in the US Consulate. Not in front of Shane.

It took every inch of strength not to stick my fingers in my ears and start singing Mary had a little lamb. Boy am I glad I didn't do that. Cos hello?! Talk about embarrassing...

Warning: this is what happens when you let your kids watch too much Toy Story

Caleb: I NOT your friend Mummy!

Me: Oh. Why not?

Caleb: Cos you not being nice to Ella!

Tim: Caleb, Ella was being naughty and that's why Mummy put her in Time Out. It's not nice for you to speak to Mummy like that.

*Mummy nodding enthusiastically but with appropriate seriousness*

Caleb: Oh.

Me: So we can be friends still Cay.

*dramatic pause*

Caleb: YOU ARE A TOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*exits stage left*

The comedy family cocktail needs a warning label

Thanks guys for all the support to my second-last post - it's times like these you need Minties. Or blogging buddies, apparently. Anyway, thank you. :-)

The thing is, I've never felt so on track with the comedy stuff - it's not like I'm where I want to be yet, but I feel like I'm certainly travelling the right path and so long as I just keep doing what I'm doing, things will happen. What things exactly, I have no idea, but I have always believed that the best things in my entire life comprise stuff I could never have pre-planned myself (my daughter being the prime example) so generally speaking I'm happy to do the groundwork and then just go along for the ride to see where it takes me.

The thing is though, sometimes there's a lot of work involved in keeping the ride going. It's like a rollercoaster that operates Flinstone-power style, with you sticking your feet out constantly to keep it moving. And that can feel overwhelming, particularly when you're motoring it along with babes in arms.

Then there's also the recurring thought that maybe this 'success' (whatever that even means) that I've been chasing for so long, actually isn't what I really want anyway. i.e. I'm on a rollercoaster that I'm self-propelling yet I'm not even sure if the destination is going to be *snapping fingers* all that.

I mean, it's hard enough with things as busy as they are now, let alone taking the schizzle to the next level. And I soooo don't want to look back years from now and - as Sara-Lee said - realise that they're 21 and I missed it all. I'm already spun out enough that Ella's nearly 5. What the?!

But then I think of the alternative - to pursue a more traditional job, but that to me just sucks buttocks. I've spent just enough time in my life working for the man to know with certainty that it really isn't my thing.

And that's when I realise that performing has gone beyond being a 'choice' for me. There is nothing else I want to do with my life. It's as simple as that.

Now I just have to make it work for my family and not vice versa.

*taking a deep breath*