How to Strike Op-Shop Gold

Anyone that knows me knows that the heading up there couldn't possibly be referring to a post that I have written. I am HOPELESS (shouting that!) at finding the good stuff in op shops. Where a fab gal like Megan from The Byron Life can stroll in and snap up six covetable things in six minutes for six bucks, I will skulk around the aisles seeing dagginess everywhere and fretting that I'm dreadfully uncreative and uncool. So when a fab gal like Megan posts about her op shopping adventures, I just think "Wow, I wish I could do that, I'm so uncreative and uncool."

Which is why Megan from has written this fantastic post, not me! Thank you, Megan, not only are your tips just brilliant, but I am so pleased that a little bit of your beautiful blog is now a part of Maxabella loves...

Now, don't mind me, I'm just off to my local Vinnies... over to you, Megan.

1. Gold!
Let’s define this first, because what is op-shop gold to me will be different for you. I’m a big fan, for example, of 1970s ceramics and floral vintage bed sheets, but that’s not everyone’s style.

 My growing collection of 1970’s mugs. Vintage Japanese ceramics are Solid Gold to me!

Op-shop gold really is what holds value for you. If you get enjoyment from it, or you can make someone happy by gifting it: then you’ve hit gold. I recently found a 1976 Australiana tea-towel in original mint condition for $1.50 at an op-shop. Excitement! To me, that is gold. When I showed my partner my extraordinary find his eyes glazed over... not gold for him (although, bless him, he did wear the loud 1980’s Ken Donne designer shirt with Sydney Harbour sailing boats pattern that I found him last Father’s Day. That’s love).

TIP: Don’t waste time flicking through the box of surfing mags in the op-shop when your kind of gold would be a vintage tablecloth.


2. Find the Goldmine.
Where do you shop? It’s no good looking in a dusty little op-shop that specialises in retro bric-a-brac (my dream op-shop, btw) when what you are really after is a brand-new designer skirt for $3. For that kind of gold you are better off seeking out an op- shop that has boutique-seconds and/or specialises in designer clothes only.

Shiny Gold! Vintage kitchen canisters used every day in our kitchen.

TIP: Get to know which op-shops hold the most promise of gold for you.


3. Be there, or miss out.
Op-shopping is a numbers game. The more you play, the greater your chances are of finding gold. You need to know where the op-shops are in your area and you’ll need to visit them regularly. Make a morning of it and trek through as many op-shops as you can in one go. Always keep in mind what kind of gold you are after and head towards the shops where you have had success before. Or, maybe you have been doing the same old circuit for too long and the gold has all dried up? It happens to the best of us. Never fear, grab your gold pan and start exploring some new op-shopping territory further afield if you’re able to.

These were found at a little church-run op-shop that never fails to deliver. I go out of my way to visit this shop.

TIP: Take an op-shop tour. Map out a route and make like a tourist in a different town or suburb to find new goldfields.


4. It’s all in the timing.
There are various theories about when is the best time to op-shop. Some have it that Monday and Tuesdays are The Golden Days – which makes sense because many goods are donated over a weekend. Of course, the danger in restricting yourself to a Tuesday is that Friday may be the day that the head op-shop lady declares a 50% off sale across the whole shop...

I found this hand-knitted tunic for my girl on the first day of the seasonal changeover at a local op-shop, along with a bunch of wonderful winter woollies that cost me a fraction of the retail price. Like most retailers, op-shops have end of season sales too.

TIP: Whatever day you choose, I find hitting the op-shops early is the best trick – it’s less likely to be “picked over” by fellow gold seekers.

5. Get Creative.
For me, the best part of op-shopping is wandering around dreaming of the way I might transform op-shop “trash” into new treasure. I look at it with a creative eye: An old wool sweater can be made into a new pair of warm baby pants; a ripped retro sheet can be used to make a new toy-stroller cover or that 50c Little Golden Book can be turned into a new journal.

I made these baby pants from a re-purposed embroidered cardigan

I re-covered the toy stroller using re-purposed retro fabric

I sewed this bag using a re-purposed linen curtain

  

Op-shops are treasure-troves for the creative soul, full of raw materials just waiting to be turned into gold. There are a myriad of ways to re-purpose op-shop “trash” into gold if you know a few crafty tricks. Sometimes all that is needed is a bit of elbow grease or a new button and you will have created something beautiful for very little financial outlay. Look beyond the object or garment and see the hidden gold.

TIP: Treat op-shops like art/craft supply shops and let your creativity run wild.

6. All that Glitters is not Gold.
Just because it’s cheap, doesn’t mean you have to buy it. Given how affordable op-shopping is, there’s always the temptation to come home with a bag of treasures. But, if the clothes don’t fit, that toy can’t be fixed or that rug won’t suit your home – then all you’ve done is bought more clutter... and clutter is not gold.

Board games are practical op-shop finds for kids.

This girl's summer dress at the top of this post was re-fashioned from a ladies skirt. {Maxabella edit - Isn't Mellie gorgeous?!}

TIP: Ask yourself this before you buy: Do I really need it? Will I really use it? Do I have space for it?

Most importantly: Have fun! Every time you buy from an op-shop you are saving yourself some money; you are recycling “stuff” that would otherwise go into landfill and your dollars will be supporting a charity – what’s not to love about that?

X

Megan @ The Byron Life

[All images belong to Megan and are used with permission]

Maxabella does Childhood 101

I love Childhood 101 for practical, no-nonsense advice about keeping the fun in childhood. I'm very excited to be a contributor for Christie today, especially as I never have imagined I would have something to offer such a fab parenting blog (see here, here and here). But she was keen for me to talk about morning time management and that I can most certainly do! Thank you for the opportunity to be a part of Childhood 101, Christie!

Come check out my routine for making it out the door on time...

[Image found on tumblr - please let me know if this image is yours]

Merry merries to all

In a show of enormous Christmas spirit,  you all overwhelmingly made the decision to send the Gorgeous Giveaway prizes to Jane from My Pear Tree House.* Merry Christmas from us all and Godspeed, dear Jane. We are all thinking of you and wishing you a smooth journey on your challenging road ahead.

This is my final post for Twenty Zen. It's been a great year for me, strengthened by my desire to make it my 'slow down' year. I have practised living in the moment and cherishing the things that I already have, rather than focusing so much on what is to come. I've worked on being less busy with things that aren't important or interesting and taking time out to just be. It's been a lesson in happiness and I will continue to practise these valuable skills all my life.

I'm taking a little blogcation. Not sure how long for... back sometime in early Jan. I'm going to let the Summer Tsunamis wash over me and see where they take me.

Very best wishes to you and yours for a merry Christmas from me and my three little elves** (and LOML too, of course). See you in the bright and sparkly and really-rather-ravishing new year. I am working on what kind of year it will be... I like to theme these things you see. It will be hard to top 20Zen, but I'll do my best!

Enjoy yourself.

x

* I'm sorry if you missed out on having a say...
** If you haven't encountered 'ElfYourself' from OfficeMax before, pop over there now to make your own hysterical Christmas fun. It's free to create and email out to family and friends.

__________________________________

Edited a little later on Monday...

PS - No, wait, there is more of me to love. On Thursday I'm guest posting at Gina's blog Acute Designs. She has asked me what 'five (material) things I can't live without'. I wrote the post only three days ago but already I can't remember what I wrote and definitely won't remember by Thursday. December does that to a person, right? Anyway, check it out as I'm sure it's bloody brilliant and even if it isn't, Gina's a fab, fab gal.

And then again a little bit later... (alright, would you just get off now, Maxabella. You said you were going...)

PPS - Just heard from Jane and she is recovering from surgery. Her spirits seem very high (probably the drugs) and she is overwhelmed by the generosity shown by all of us involved in the Gorgeous Giveaway present. That's you, too, by the way... thanks for giving up your entry to offer a little bit of light in a dark, dark day for Jane. x

Happy winners!

Dear lovely blogging buddies

I'm back refreshed and rejuvied from my bipolar week away with the Tsunamis and LOML. The highest highs, the lowest lows. Holidaying in Tsunami prone territories are never dull.

I also enjoyed my week away from the computer far more than I thought I would. It helped that I had such fabulous guest posties amusing and delighting me each day (via the Crackle- some things never die!). Thank you once again for the break Not Drowning, Mothering, Fat Mum Slim, Pink Patent Mary Janes, And then there were four and Cocktails at Naptime. I could tell by all the comments left that you all enjoyed the week too.

Without further ado... the winner's of Gillian and Emma's book Cocktails at Naptime are...

Curvaceous Queen and Bubby Makes Three.

I'll be in touch to arrange the send out of your new book. Enjoy!

Much love
Maxabella
x

Cocktails at Naptime: Bum Ass

Last week I tore a strip off some teenage lads in a public swimming pool delivering them a frosty admonishing in response to extreme swearing in front of my kids.

“Hoy there!” I said shouting a phrase that is universally only used when chastising teenagers, ”That’s enough of that!” (ditto), “Not in front of wee kids, eh?”

The effing and jeffing momentarily stopped and later, as the boys were being turfed out of the pool by similarly aged attendants for stabbing small children with metal forks that they had secreted in their Speedos (this is true!), I smirked in their direction with a “that’ll learn ya!” self satisfied smirk. They hadn’t seen me get out of the glorious Mini, so my paintwork couldn’t be associated with me and my middle-aged finger waving ways.

Later, I was telling the story to a friend and I realised that my kids and their associates have come out with their own choice phrases on their own, and didn't need any coaching from teenagers. Some of it possibly in response to hearing other family members (not me, just my Mum and my husband)slip the odd colourful phrase out.

Here are some absolute beauties:

Miss Misssy
Situation: On being assaulted by our excitable jumping dog,The Black Menace, whilst sat on the sofa minding her own business.

Phrase: “Fuxsake Sonny!! Get down!”

That was last year. I blame her father.


Darling Curly Niece
Situation: Called her Dad this a couple of weeks ago in a fit of rage.

Phrase: “You hairy bum-ass. You worm licking bum-ass!”

You may laugh but I guarantee you’ll use that phrase in your next argument.


Indy
My two year old (but now 12 year old) toddling son shouted “Bloody flies!” as a bluebottle bombed its way into the kitchen one summer. Everyone looked round at my Mum, Frazzlegran, “Bloody flies!!” being a hall mark catchphrase of his dishtowel wielding insect hating grandma.


Miss Misssy's chum, Ellie
Then last week, I asked my daughter’s friend Ellie why they didn’t have their Jack Russell anymore. “Because he’s a complete pain in the arse,” she said very matter or factly, like she was discussing a canine medical condition.


Small party guest with Tourette's Syndrome
A small boy from my daughter’s nursery class stole the show last year when my husband did his, now legendary, magic show at Miss Misssy’s birthday party. Already reeling from another boy’s heckle of “You’re not magic!” My husband was verbally assaulted by a small blond boy who, apropos of nothing, shouted “You’ve got shitty shoes!” And then once the adults in the room did a “Did you just hear what I just heard?” glanceathon, he piped up, “You’ve got shit on your shoes” as if to clarify his initial statement to avoid all doubt. Aside from this slander- My husband patently did not have shit on his shoes. In fact, I doubt he was wearing any shoes, as this would be a breach of our “No Shoe Policy”- it was the sheer randomness of his comments that surprised me most. Had he heard it from his dad? Or was he quoting directly from a scene in Dirty Harry?

In consideration of all the above infant transgressions, I feel an apology coming on to the fork wielding jail dodging orators of the local swimming pool. Little kids don’t need subjection to teenage hoodlums to be turned offensive. They can do that quite well enough on their own.

So really what this teaches me is, kids listen. Not just to sweary teenage boys in swimming pools with an affection for the F and C words, but they listen to EVERYTHING. Be warned.

♥

Gillian Martin is the author of Cocktails at Naptime along with her co-author Emma Kaufmann. It's been a pleasure having your company, Gillian. Thank you so much for the post and... the GIVEAWAYS!

To win one of two of Gillian and Emma's laugh-out-loud book, simply leave a comment on any of the five guest posts that have featured this week, Monday to Friday.  You know how much we love a comment around Maxabellaland. They make the blogging world go-round!

Each comment will give you one ticket into the random.org draw which I'll be conducting... sometime next week. I'll then post the prize out to two lucky winners. Have fun and good luck!

___________________________________________________________________

I do hope you've enjoyed my holiday guest week as much as I have.

I'll see you all for Grateful Saturday tomorrow!

[Image source unknown]

And Then There Were Four: Experiencing the love of a mother

Sometimes I think I am unrecognisable. A completely different person to the person I was before my children came into my life. Both mentally and physically transformed. I am sure it is not true, but it feels that way. My life changed irrevocably when I had children.

My first lesson came early in the piece. Let me just start by saying that I never saw myself as the Mother Earth type. The fact that I have a tribe (four children, five and under) came as a complete surprise. Quite literally with some of the pregnancies. I just never knew I’d be so fertile!

Once things got ticking away, I learnt that I actually don’t want to ‘sleep like a baby’. Not all babies sleep it seems, which means that their Mums and Dads don’t either. I would have sworn that I couldn’t cope without 8 hours of sleep a night. After more than five years of interrupted sleep, I have been proven wrong.

Being a non-consumerist is a handy quality when you are a Mum because a) you never get to spend any money on yourself anyway and b) even if you get ‘only the essentials’ your entire house will eventually pile up with children’s paraphernalia.

My twin pregnancy taught me that if your tummy stretches to the point that it can sit in your own lap, it probably isn’t going to spring back. Abdominoplasty may in fact be a solution for many, not just the vain, Barbie doll types. A sanity saver in fact.

My children have also taught me just how full your heart can be. I have always loved my family. I love my husband with all my heart. Then along came Nugget, Doo Dah, Dew Drop and the Minx. My heart just kept getting bigger and I found I could love them all. Completely.

And having children taught me how amazing a parent’s love is. I remember after my first child was born calling my Mum and saying “sorry”.

“What for?” she replied.

“I just didn’t realise how much you love me. How much all those crazy stunts I pulled as a teenager must have hurt you. I just didn’t get it”, I said.

She said, “Apology accepted. I am just so glad that you have had the opportunity to experience the love of a mother for yourself”.

Yep. My children have taught me that I am a Mum. The ‘real parents’ aren’t going to be turning up to raise these gorgeous things. That is the life-work of me and my husband. Every day there will be new challenges and new experiences. Every day will also hold a lot of ‘sameness’, ground hog day qualities and routine. But every day I will get to enjoy these little people that I have helped create until they are released into the big wide world to find the opportunity to experience the love of a parent for themselves.

♥  

Wow. Just wow. Experiencing the love of a mother really has been the most wonderful gift. It's all you could ask for your own children.  For more wonderful words of honest wisdom, visit MultipleMum at And then there were four.

Pink Patent Mary Janes: It's a girl thing

I always wanted to be a great mum. I wanted to be a mother who nurtured her daughter to be her best possible self. I wanted her to know there were so many possibilities and she could work out ways achieve them. I wanted my daughter to grow up confident, with pride and self-assurance. I planned on being the mum who would show her daughter the way.


Instead, she's shown me the way.

I've been blessed with a girl who walks tall and proud. Who's confident of herself and what she can achieve. She's confident that she's loved and nurtured and cared for.

That's a blessing.

I thought I'd teach her so much - instead - she's taught me.

♥ I was going to 'fake it till I could make it'. I swore I'd never utter a negative word about my body - or anyone else's - in front of her. And you know what? That taught me to love and appreciate my body more than I ever had before.

♥ I wanted her to see positive, loving role-models in her parents - and by speaking respectfully to my husband in her presence it taught me that that's the way it should be.

♥ She's taught me that there's nothing more magnificent than being greeted by someone who's genuinely delighted to see you {although I do draw the line at squealing my friend's name and running and jumping into their arms - that could be dangerous}.

She wants to be a famous dancer who travels the world and returns to her apartment in Paris. She wants to write in her spare time, and play netball in those other moments. When she retires from dancing she's coming back to Australia and buying a farm in the Southern Highlands. We're allowed to visit.

She sees a world of possibilities - and makes me realise what's out there - if you open your arms wide enough.
 

♥

 

I adore this post, it's made me want to open my own arms wide enough to give the world and all it's possibilities a great big hug. For more hugging, make sure you stop by Pink Patent Mary Janes for a chat sometime soon. Thank you for joining in my "What my children have taught me about myself" holiday week, PPMJ.

 

_____________________________________________________

At the risk of sounding like the guy on the infomercials with the steak knives: don't forget that every comment this week goes into the draw to receive a special giveaway prize (prize announced Friday, winner announced sometime next week after I work out how to use the random winner generator...).

Fat Mum Slim: Motherhood & Me

I thought I had motherhood sorted. I'd been a nanny for ten years. I knew kids. I knew mothers. So naturally, I knew motherhood, right? Wrong.

From the moment my daughter was born, I was vulnerable. I was fragile. I was a mama, forever.

They nurse placed her on my chest, and I cried. She was my daughter. Everything I'd ever dreamed of, hoped for, wanted... was here. In my arms.

I look up at my husband and for the first time ever, I saw him cry too. We didn't need to say anything... we knew each other's thoughts. We were parents. We were in love. We were vulnerable.

Each day my daughter grew, and so did my heart and my vulnerability. What I thought I knew about motherhood, what I expected and what I had planned, were very different to the reality. Not better, not worse... just different.

My little girl has taught me love. I loved my husband with all my heart, but this love I have for her is very different. She has taught me patience. Just when I think I can take no more, she smiles or makes me laugh... and I come undone. She has taught me pure joy. The kinda joy that makes your face ache, your heart sing and your soul dance. She's taught me strength.

It still amazes me that such a little person can teach me so much about the world. To see things through her little eyes. To get down and see the world from a little person's eye view. To love, to live, to really laugh. My life is better for having her in my life. She makes me want to be better, to love more and to smile.

♥

Thank you so much for guest posting, Chantelle. Patience, joy, laugh, love, live, dance... you have a gift for drawing out the essence of what it is to be a mother.


If you haven't visited Fat Mum Slim before (and if you haven't where on earth have you been?!) I suggest you race flat out over there right now. You're in for a real treat! 

Not Drowning, Mothering: Roadside Assistance

Dear Readers of Maxabella Loves,

When Maxabella first approached me to write a ‘What My Kids Have Taught Me About Myself’ guest post, I began to work on a whimsical and charming list, including things like “That the word ‘No’ has at least three syllables – as in ‘Noh-ooo-wuh!” and “It’s not worth spending real money on baby clothes. Babies don’t care if they’re wearing Prada. They’ll vomit on it all the same.”

But then I went on a week-long car trip with my husband and three children and everything changed. For one thing, the almost 2000km we traversed severely impaired my ability to look at parenting – or, indeed, at myself - in a whimsical, charming fashion.

So, if you’ll forgive me going slightly off-topic, here instead is ‘What My Kids Have Taught Me... About Road Trips!”:

• Two hours is the limit for small humans to be strapped into their car seats without someone losing an eye. 

•  When packing, I should always remember that too many snacks is never going to be enough. Ever.

• Sugar might seem to be my friend but it’s not. It’s really, really not. It is the Devil in powdered form and a few minutes silence while the kids eat sugary treats is not worth the ensuing sugar-induced rampage which invariably occurs whenever we get stuck in heavy traffic.

• After more than three hours of driving, nobody will be asking “ARE WE THERE YET??” more than me, the so-called ‘adult’ in the car (my husband doesn’t count).

• I should always add a couple of hours to any estimation of how long a trip will take. Kids can quickly turn a ‘whistle-stop’ tour into a ‘toilet-stop tour’. For the record, a ‘toilet-stop tour’ is just like a ‘whistle-stop’ one, except much much slower.

• In a perfect world, children would follow the lead of women and synchronise their bladders. But, alas.

• The trick of saying “Sorry! I can’t hear you over the music!” (and then quickly pumping up the volume on the car stereo) only works to a point with kids. You see, the car stereo volume only goes up to 10, whereas the kids’ volume goes up to at least 11 and sometimes as high as 29, particularly when high on sugar and the traffic is gridlocked.

• When my husband drives, I am in charge of passing back snacks. When it’s my turn behind the wheel, the kids will wait until the moment my husband passes into Snoozy-Dreamy-Dreamland (as he invariably will) before announcing “We’re hungry!”.

• Along with ‘Speeding’ and ‘Driver Fatigue’, highway police should really be targeting ‘Drivers passing back snacks’.

• There will come a point during any road trip where I will feel like I have always been on the road, that there has never been anything other than this relentless road life. I will look at my reflection in the rear view mirror and know with great certainty that I will never amount to anything more than being Chief Passer-Backer of Snacks and Toilet Stop Coach and, on occasion, Crazy Shouting Driving Lady.

So what have my children taught me about myself? They have taught me that I am no Leyland Brother. Planes were invented to protect parents and children from going postal on lonely stretches of road. Fact. And any money I might have saved by driving instead of flying was immediately lost when I started hemorrhaging money at the first Roadside Services, if not in any subsequent wine therapy required to recover from said road trip.

Yours, realistically,
The NDM, of Not Drowning, Mothering

♥

Thanks for kicking off my guest postie week, the NDM. As I write this, I'm about to embark on my own road trip and I am afraid, very afraid... 


If you haven't experienced the belly laugh that is Not Drowning, Mothering's take on life, children and taming the lady garden, I suggest you head over there immediately.


[Image]