Anthony Malloy Between Coffees

Sigh. Money - root of all evil. Well, not quite but it seems to be playing a larger than normal part in our lives at the moment.

First off the government and money. We put in our claim for the baby bonus (which, as an aside, I don’t agree with. If I want to have babies, I should be able to pay for them, but I’m not stupid enough to say no when it’s being given out. Not sure what that says about me and my principles.) but the government gave us even more back; substantially more.

A few years ago the government gave us some money, then six months later decided we had to give it back. Part of their surprise payment this time around was giving that same amount back to us again! You can probably understand we are now reluctant to touch any of it, even though it harks back to the 02/03 and 03/04 tax years and you’d think after all this time the figures would be final. We’re going to request a review and to get confirmation in writing that the money is actually ours.

We’ve also started the hunt for a house in earnest. Veronica and Steve pointed us in the direction of Mortgage Choice so this evening we had John come over for a chat. The issue for us is that we are now driving around in what was a good chunk of our deposit, thanks to having two babies instead of one, so we need to save, save, save to get our deposit up. For the first time though we think we may actually be able to get a house to make a home for us and the kids. That’s a great feeling to have.

All of this monitoring of income and expenditure (I have figures going back years, I should have been an accountant like mum said) made me look at where my money ends up. I have my fortnightly ‘allowance’ for day to day stuff but thinking about it there are only two things I really spend it on. April to the end of August it goes on the footy (couple of beers, a Footy Record, something from the Tiger Den) which comes to about $20 a game.

The only other thing I regularly spend money on is coffee. Each weekend it’s a couple of large latte’s in the morning, a couple in the afternoon, same if I have the day off. The thing is that lately I feel like I’ve been wasting my money. Save for the ever reliable pizza boys at Shop 3 in the South Melbourne Market (try their calzone for breakfast, heaven) I haven’t had a good take away coffee in months. I realised I have probably spent a couple of hundred bucks in this time for something that’s disappointing me time and time again.

What should I do? I can always tell at the first sip that it’s no good. Stale coffee, not strong enough, milk boiled instead of heated, no idea how to make a latte - I’ve had ‘em all. Should I be able to take it back? Is is worth complaining about? Or should I take my bits of the root of all evil and plant them somewhere else?

Yes, I’m still here. Hope you all understand it’s a little tough to get time to sit and write at the moment but as today marks four weeks since the Henry and Kennedy arrived I should do a little update.

We’re all getting through, although some only just. My poor Rae is permanently exhausted with round the clock feedings and very little time for anything else. Bert is completely enamored of the new arrivals and walks around calling his version of their names (Arry and Enady). Phee is being a big help with Bert and slowly coming around to the new arrivals, just as she did with Bert.

I’m back at work and it’s tough to leave Rae and the kids each morning. The house hasn’t fallen apart yet but a lot of things are just being let slide. Who needs folded clothes anyway? Thankfully any visitors we’ve had haven’t run screaming when confronted with a less than perfect house. What good friends we have.

I’ve got about five chapters in to Harry Potter but I can barely keep my eyes open when I hop in to bed at night so I’m just going to have ride my luck for a while and hopefully not find out what happens before I can get a while to finish it. Wish me luck.

Beth has done it, Jenny is doing it at work, Rae is doing it right now and I want to get to it quickly. Ren even did it backwards.

Of course I’m talking about reading Harry Potter. My problem is that as the days tick by I am at increasing risk of finding out The Way It Ends, and I really don’t want to. I’m going back to work tomorrow so I will have even less time to make a start, let alone finish the book, and I’m worried.

How long is it before people will assume it’s safe to start talking about The Deathly Hallows without giving out a spoiler warning? Maybe the world needs to set some sort of cut off date, taking in mind recently arrived time consumers.

More twin goodness.

Harry Potter in Yarraville…

(and it looks like I wasn’t the only blogger in The Sun this morning)

No, not for us or for Beth (congratulations Beth), I’m talking about Harry.

Tomorrow morning is Harry Potter time. At 9.01 the last Harry Potter (say it ain’t so Jo) is available to the world. I’m trying to avoid any spoilers that may be floating around as I’ve pre-bought our copy at the local book shop in Yarraville. I won’t be lining up at 9.01, I’ll let the kids crowd for their copy but I’ll be there not too much later.

Our only problem is who gets to read it first. I claim that as paid for it and I’m picking it up I get first dibs. Rae claims that as she’s at home with the kids she should get first go. The money or the kids, what a modern predicament.

Back in the mid 90’s I was having a talk with my mate Mark. He is a primary school teacher and had taken a record in to school that day to play to his kids. One of the kids piped up ‘Oh, I know that is. It’s a record, my mum and dad have some.”. He said that was the first day he felt old.

This week I bought a CD and I’m wondering if Bert, Henry and Kennedy will one day tell their teacher ‘Oh, my mum and dad had some of them. They’re what you listened to music on in the old days.’.

I’m hip, with-it and cool. I download my music, have two iPods and my radio station of choice streams from London (all hale 6 Music for getting me back in to music) but sometimes I just have to have that shiny silver thing you put in a machine. Thinking about it there are really on three acts I’d still buy the CD for - Paul Kelly (this weeks purchase), New Order (if they haven’t broken up for good this time) and Pet Shop Boys. Maybe Billy Bragg and Deb Conway too but that would be it. I almost succumbed and bought PK off iTunes, especially as the tracks weren’t hobbled with DRM restrictions, but just couldn’t bring myself to click that Buy Album link.

Maybe next time. Maybe…

“So, how are you going?” would be the question of the week.

The answer is, not too badly.

We’re at that great stage where the babies sleep most of the time, well, the day time any way. They seem to sleep just fine during the day but at night they take it in turns to keep mum and dad awake. Thanks to our fine national broadcaster’s habit of broadcasting British films from the 1930s and 40s in the wee small hours I am slowly becoming an expert on the career of Sir Alec Guinness. Last night he single handedly saved Malta from the evil Huns while wooing a local lass.

We’re both tired and by the evening fuses tend to be a fair bit shorter than they were in the morning but Rae is doing amazingly well for someone who can only get her sleep in two hour blocks. Things haven’t begun unraveling yet and there’s going to be some tough times ahead but we’ve survived a week at home and are almost half way through the first month.

Saturday night, Rae is feeding so I get started on the paperwork for registering the babies with our wonderful government.

Before getting past Q2 on the form I have to get a claim number. Okay. This can be done via the web or phone. Of course I choose the web option and find the link at the bottom of the page at www.familyassist.gov.au. Before proceeding I have to register to get a Customer Access Number. Okay. I click on that link and then nothing for a minute until I get either a invalid proxy server response message or a page not found error.

Great.

I jump on the phone (I can dream). Dial the number, 136 150, and all I get is ‘Thank you for ringing, goodbye.’ and the phone disconnects.