Thursday, 28 June 2012


In the past few days I’ve thought on more than one occasion, ‘those bears are onto something’.  I could quite easily be hibernating right now.  I have found the temperatures in Brisbane lately to be freezing!  I realise that New Zealanders and anyone from a colder climate will be scoffing, and telling me that this is positively balmy, but honey – I am NOT a winter person.  Yes, I was born in New Zealand, but I spent the first seven years of my life in New Guinea and then moved to Brisbane.  So we can safely say that I am a card-carrying summer lover.

I didn’t realise this until approximately three days ago, when the Ice Age hit Brisbane.  The cold has affected me in a number of ways: 
  • I’m sleepy;
  • I lack motivation to do ANYTHING;
  • I dream about scalding hot baths & hot water bottles; and
  • the first thing I do in the morning is turn the heater on, instead of the kettle.

For a second day in a row, I found myself dozing on the couch at around the time I’m usually getting dinner ready for the kids.  Two nights in a row, The Architect has cooked dinner because I was so lethargic with cold that I didn’t do anything.  And one of those nights he’d just gotten off a plane.   I know - how pathetic.  The sheer laziness of it all will hit me when I thaw out.

In the meantime, I’m mooching around our post-war house with floorboards wearing at least two layers, hugging a hot water bottle and sprawling underneath the heater.

Mulled wine anyone?

Any other Brisbanites out there feeling the cold?

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Hanging up my sneakers...

My body is betraying me.  It seems as though it’s falling to pieces, but I know I’m exaggerating.  Let me start at the beginning.

My relationship with running began approximately 12 years ago.  I was diagnosed with depression and given the news that I’m prone to it, so I would need to learn ways to cope with and deal with any episodes.  My psychologist recommended running, and cutting back on drinking.

After fighting her on the cutting back on drinking thing (the mere thought of doing that sent me spiralling into a black hole), I acquiesced and finally did it.  I cut back, and now that I’m older and out of the drinking crowd (and industry) I used to be in, I don’t miss it.  The running definitely helped and over the past 12 years it has never ceased to make me feel better.

I have never been a true runner.  I’m not a natural runner, so it’s always been a slog for me.  Something I’m constantly working on, and motivating myself to do.  It’s easy to get motivated when I’m staring down the barrel of another black dog period in my life.  Nothing gets me running faster than feeling hollow and wanting it all to be over.  Self-preservation kicks in and I force myself out the door and get running.

But something’s happened to my body along the way.  It would appear my neck and back just aren’t what they used to be and they take longer to recover from sleeping in the wrong position, picking up heavy things (read: Little Warrior and sometimes the Polynesian Princess), and running in shoes with no cushioning (I know.  Idiot).

Last year I had signed up to run in the Mother’s Day Fun Run and conveniently put my back out three days before the race.  I was told I would never run again, and I cried.  I found the mere notion of it very upsetting and I was determined to prove them wrong.  So I took it easy for the last year.  I started going for walks in the morning.  At first I hated it – didn’t think I was getting any benefit out of it, but I noticed that my moods were similar as if I had done a run.  I came back refreshed, happy and ready for the day.

Four weeks ago I decided to start running again.  The Architect says that this occurs each year when the Bridge to Brisbane rolls around and he could be right.  I tend to get fired up when there’s an event coming.  I see it as an excuse to get back into it again.  As if this one event will be the catalyst for making a lifestyle change.  It’s probably worth mentioning also that I am influenced by others.  So if others are talking about their running training, I tend to want to get back into it.

So I started again.  And for the past four weeks I have been plagued by neck, back and knee pain.  Mere coincidence?  I think not.  I know I’m not that old, but I’m getting tired of the hassle.  I'm also old enough to know that I need to listen to my body.

Whilst I enjoy running and the benefits, I now find myself leaning towards a walk around our neighbourhood or a bushwalk with friends.  It doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to fully look over my right shoulder for approximately four weeks.  Perhaps the ol’ fire and desire to run will come back.  But for now my relationship with running is on a break.

And it looks like they were right.  I probably won't run again.  But this time I'm not sad about it.

Have you had to listen to your body recently and give up a sport? 

Saturday, 23 June 2012

Party Pooper

I’ve never been one for parties.  Of any kind, really.  And I’m not referring to actually attending parties (which I do enjoy), but more the ones that I would organise.  In fact, I think I can count on one hand the amount of parties I have thrown for myself (or that anyone has thrown for me).  Having dinner at a restaurant with a large contingent of my friends doesn’t count either, in case you were wondering.  

So imagine my surprise when I found myself wanting to host a jewellery party!  This was such a huge deviation from my norm that I couldn't quite grasp it.   But I rolled with it - accepted it, made the booking and sent out the invitations.

Who was I?  What had happened to me?  As the date drew closer, I discovered the truth of what had happened to me.  I wanted an excuse to have some girlfriends over, bake for them, have them bake for me, and sit around and talk rubbish.  And it worked.  It was the sweetest, relaxing afternoon. 

I got to catch up with an old ‘new’ friend' which was great.  You know the kind - someone you knew in your past, but didn’t really know?  Then you reconnect through social media and you find that you actually get along well?  That’s her.  And it was fun.

A friend of mine used to refer to the situation where your friends, who don’t know each other, all meet as “when worlds collide”.  Well my worlds collided this afternoon and it was so nice watching everybody mingle, talk and get to know each other.   There was book club friends, old work colleagues, old school friends, old kindy Mum friends, new prep Mum friends and my family.  All of us together on the deck The Architect built.

This seemed to be something I needed to do.  For whatever reason, I don’t know.  But it felt cathartic.  Healing, almost.  Being surrounded by friends and family and simply spending time has made my week.

I hope your day has been just as lovely.


Thursday, 21 June 2012

Go the F*ck to Sleep

Day three of the 28 day scream-free parenting challenge.  It’s 12:50pm and I’ve failed today.  Failed yesterday too.  Both days have been because of Little Warrior’s day-time sleep.  He’s fought both of them.  And anyone out there who’s saying that he must be dropping his sleep can wash their mouths out with soap.

You see, I’m a classic case of belief versus reality.  My belief is that Little Warrior should drift quietly off to sleep at exactly midday, everyday, and sleep for two hours.  Everyday.  Without fail, if you don’t mind little man.  And any deviation (I mean ANY) sends me straight to Shitsville (do not pass Go, do not collect $200).  I understand that this is unrealistic, unfair and ridiculous.  Not to mention the fact that I'm basically setting him up for failure. Because who does the same thing, at the same time, for the same amount of time everyday?  Nobody!  And yet, this is my perception of what should be happening for Little Warrior.  Hey, I never said I liked it, I'm just being honest and telling you how it is.

I tried to do as Jackie Hall recommended.  Just like on Day one, I tried to change the way I look at the situation and simply view it as an opportunity for Little Warrior to learn that he can’t get what he wants.  Yes.  You can have some strawberries, but only when you wake up.  No.  You can’t have them in bed with you.   But today I just didn’t stick with it.  Today I just yelled at him to go to sleep (if you’re wondering, I didn’t swear at him), slammed the door and pretended to ignore the sound of him repeatedly hitting the door with both his hands.  Ace.  Way to go Mum.

It’s going to be a long 28 days.

Trying to re-learn old habits and old ways of thinking is going to be an uphill battle.  Primarily because you don’t even realise you’re doing it.  So actually catching yourself doing it, then consciously adjusting the view before reacting is going to take me a while.  But I’m working on it.

And in the meantime, I can enjoy the peace and quiet.  Now that he’s gone the f*ck to sleep ;)

Are you doing the challenge?  How are you going?

Tuesday, 19 June 2012

First day scream-free

A week ago I wrote this entry in my blog.  I was down and really feeling low about my parenting.  So I was very excited yesterday because I received my first email from Jackie Hall via the Essential Baby 28 Day Scream-free parenting challenge.  It was like somebody switched on a light for me.  Sometimes you think you know what to do, and when somebody actually gives you advice, you think “well now THAT makes perfect sense!”

Yesterday’s email discussed how stress is a conflict between belief and reality.  Stress occurs when what you believe should be happening, isn’t.  And for me that happens on a regular basis.  I tend to create unrealistic goals.  Someone in my past once called me a high achiever.  And I guess that could be true.  I certainly have high expectations.  Very high.  And when you’re a five year old or a two year old – well, you just aren’t going to cut the mustard.

The email went on to discuss how we could eliminate the stress by changing how we view challenging situations.  By doing this we would remove the gaping hole between belief and reality.

An example was:

Parent A may perceive a tantrum from their toddler as learning behaviour and their child is simply learning how to behave in the world and realise that they can't get what they want.

Parent B may be perceiving how embarrassing it is, that they shouldn't be behaving that way, how much they've had enough of this behaviour, how much this behaviour is effecting their life and their bond and on and on in that direction.

Which parent do you think is feeling more stress?

I may as well be walking around with a t-shirt emblazoned with PARENT B on it.  That is me.  To a T.  Sorry, the pun was intended.  So I read my email yesterday – took it on board, ruminated on it and then put it into practise.

Little Warrior was in daycare yesterday but that didn’t stop him from throwing two gargantuan tantrums in the space of two hours once he got home (seriously – he nearly ripped the handle off our fridge).  I did what the email suggested.  I looked at his tantrum as a learning behaviour and thought ‘he’s simply learning that he can’t get what he wants.’  And do you know what?  I didn’t get cranky!  I didn’t get annoyed!  I wasn’t thinking “F*ck my life”, I wasn’t desperately wondering what to do next, nothing!  Something as simple as merely changing the way I look at the situation was miraculous.  I couldn’t believe it.  And I have to say, I was a little proud of myself.

So big ups to me.  Big ups to Jackie Hall and big ups to Essential Baby.



Monday, 18 June 2012

Product Loyalty

Up until I was about 26 years old, my beauty regime used to consist of soap and water.  That was it.  No toner, no cleanser, no moisturiser.  An old friend was mortified and slightly impressed that I only used soap and water and still had relatively “ok” looking skin (obviously we weren't looking at my skin through that weird blue light machine that pinpoints skin degeneration).

I moved on from soap and water and started using sorbolene and water.  Don’t ask me where I got this from – but I stuck to it for only a short time before trying out Shiseido products.  They were gorgeous.  They came in a clear glass bottle with baby blue lids and smelt delicious.  Sadly, the cost of it almost made me sick and the thought of having to regularly shell out this kind of money pushed me in the direction of the trusty supermarket.

Since then, I have been through countless beauty products.  I’ve tried the super expensive, the super duper cheap and everything in between.

As the years tick by, I have slowly developed a loyalty to certain products (skin: Dermalogica, hair: Evo), but there is only one product that I have happily been in a long-term relationship with for 23 years now.  That would be Blistex lip conditioner.  Geez that stuff rocks.  I discovered it in high school – probably through my friends, as we all used it, and it is one of my must-haves.  It’s been with me through chapped lips, runs in wintry conditions in New Zealand and traipsing around Europe.  It was even with me in New York on the open topped bus when it was so cold I couldn’t feel tears running down my face.  But at least my lips were protected!  So a little shout-out to the Blistex peeps.  Love it.  Love your product.  Thank-you :)

Oh and incase you're wondering, this is not a sponsored post.  It's just cause I love it.

What about you - do you have a product you swear by? Do you share my love of Blistex?

Saturday, 16 June 2012

Have a good day?

This time last week I was still on a high from doing my first ever trail-run.  I finally feel like my body has recovered after:
  • seven days;
  • one trigger point massage;
  • one podiatrist appointment; and
  • one osteopath appointment.
Yep.  Let's just say I'm not a natural runner and I really need to work at it.

My day began with some Sun Salutations, a run, more yoga and then meditation.  What an awesome way to start any day!  If I could start everyday this way, I think I would be one perpetually happy Mama Bear.

After a lunch-time nap to combat a niggling sore throat and ear (thanks Polynesian Princess - I'm pretty sure it's from you), I was ready for a high tea with friends.  Sigh.  Lovely.  Just a lovely afternoon, talking all things old and new.  And eating.  Yeah - working our way through three tiers of yumminess, pots of tea and sparkling wine.

The night saw us having fish & chips and the kids watching "Gruffalo's Child".  Again.  They're both asleep now and the house is quiet.  The only sound is me on the keyboard and some muted music from the party across the road.  Bliss.

So tell me.  Did you have a good day?  Cause I did.

It was good...


Thursday, 14 June 2012

My Dad, My Hero

This morning was a little mad.  It isn’t usually mad – usually I’m so anal that everything is running smoothly and there’s no mad rush out the door.  But this morning seemed to be particularly disorganised and so it was with great relief that I jumped in the car, with Polynesian Princess and Little Warrior all buckled in.  I’d remembered the school bag, the lunch, a snack for Little Warrior for my podiatrist appointment and even a snack for me.

I turn the key and all the lights start blinking at me.  Not starting.
Turn it off.  Try again.  Blinking…

It takes approximately two seconds before PP starts asking “what’s happening Mum? Why aren’t we moving??”
“Uhh…because the car has died darlin”…
“Lets call Daddy!” she yells
I sigh.  We can’t do that.  He’s in Sydney.  And no - incase you're wondering, we don’t have RACQ.  

So we all pile out of the car and I suit up to walk PP to school.  Excited at the change of routine, they both run down the street in the general direction of school.   On the walk to school, I call my Dad to see if he has a car battery charger.  Of course he does.  Doesn’t every Dad?  And in fact, WE own a battery charger too but one of The Architect’s work colleagues is currently borrowing it.  Handy.

It’s been a long time since I called my Dad with a cry for help.  When I lived overseas in my early (read: irresponsible) 20’s, there were numerous calls of this nature.  Some of them were just to hear the sound of his voice.  Others were of the “I’m skint” variety.  But those days are long-gone.  Or they were, until today.

I’m assuming this is every Dad’s lot in life.  To come to the rescue of their children, even when they're fully grown.  I know for sure that The Architect will be doing the same thing for PP and LW one day.  Going over to help fix a leaking toilet, build a deck, put up some shelves or charge their car battery.

And so it turns out that within an hour, my Dad is at our house, hooking up the car battery charger for me.  I don’t know what he had planned for his day (I think it may have involved a trip to the tip), but here he is, helping out his first-born.  Again.

My Dad.  My hero.

Tuesday, 12 June 2012

I want to be better

Mostly I can coast along quite nicely thinking I’m doing an okay job at being a Mum.  But some days, like today, I think I suck at it.

I wish I could be better.  I wish I could be more like a friend of mine, let’s call her Serenity.  She is calm, patient, doesn’t use the word ‘no’ all the time and generally is serenity incarnate.  Today, that was not me.  In fact, on most days ‘serene’ isn’t a word I would use to describe myself.

I have been known to yell, be sarcastic, slam doors and be as childish as my two year old.  But I’m trying.  I know that’s got to count.  It has to… otherwise I am doomed to suck at this.

I have signed up for Essential Baby’s 28 day scream-free parenting challenge which begins on Monday, 18 June.  I pray with the tools I use from this challenge coupled with external reading as well as mindfulness, I will be a step closer to being the parent I want to be.  And maybe if I’m brave enough, I’ll blog about my journey.


Monday, 11 June 2012

Masks for all occasions...

I don’t have any of my high school yearbooks anymore so it was with great delight that I received a photocopied page from our year nine yearbook.  My friend had photocopied the page that had three  poems I had written that year.  I know, I know.  Published by 14 – it was a proud moment ;)

I wanted to share one of them that seems to still ring true today, funnily enough.  And apologies for the writing - I was only 14!  So without further ado, I give you:


Everyday it’s different
Everyday it changes
Everyday the way I think
and the way I behave ranges
I’ve got to make everyone like me
I’ve got to do this right
I’ve got to act as if I’m flying high
Flying high as a kite
No matter what the price
I’ve got to make everyone believe
That I’m likeable and nice
Even though the real me
Is buried deep inside
My real emotions and feelings
Are things I have to hide
Only my really good friends
Know me inside and out
They know whenever I’m feeling down
They know without a doubt
What makes them think you aren’t what you are
So many people ask
The thing that throws them all off track
Is the illusion of the mask.

Now, while I acknowledge that this isn't fantastic writing, I'm more interested in the fact that how I felt back then can still apply today.  Until a couple of years ago, I still subscribed to this ridiculous notion that everyone had to like me.  Why, I couldn't tell you.  But what I can tell you is that I've almost completely shrugged that off and I feel a bazillion times better.  

We all wear masks at one time or another.  But when do you do it?  Do you put yours on before you arrive at Christmas lunch?  Or before you catch up with friends you haven't seen in a while?  I can tell you that in a previous life, I would wear mine to any social gathering with my family.  Also, I used to work in, enough said really.  But these days I don't need to.  These days I'm more comfortable with the person staring back at me in the mirror.

Being more comfortable in your skin, and liking (yes, even loving) yourself is only something I have come to experience lately.  And it's liberating.  It's extremely liberating to hang these old masks up and face the world, daring it to take me as I am.

Do you slip on a mask for any particular occasion?

Image courtesy of

Saturday, 9 June 2012

How's your Saturday?

Powerful Owl trail with a view of Moreton Island. Beautiful...
How's your Saturday everyone?  Mine has been lovely.  Quiet and lovely and a little tough too.  I started the day with a trail run.  Truth be told I actually started the day with a Merlo Coffee and some Weet-Bix (breakfast of champions!) which was the 'quiet' and 'lovely' part.  The run came a little later in my morning.  And yes, that was the 'tough' part.

I've made a friend through Polynesian Princess's school.  I've made a few friends there and I anticipate having a great time getting to know these girls more.  One of them has been offering to take me for a trail run for weeks.  I (very nervously) accepted her offer as it's been a while since I've run.  But since last month I have been slowly re-entering my running world.  I say I 'nervously' accepted her offer because she runs up a mountain, and then down again. Regularly.

So it was with a little trepidation I started the run up Mt Coot-tha.  Within five minutes of running uphill I knew we weren't compatible running partners.  Where my friend could comfortably hold a conversation whilst simultaneously running UPHILL (I've mention that bit already, haven't I?) at a steady pace, I was barely able to concentrate on what was being said.  Every now and again I could puff out a "yeah, right!" but mostly I was burning.  Burning and dying.

But the best part was running down a track called Powerful Owl.  That was great.  Talk about feeling alive!  All my concentration was on staying upright as we zig-zagged down a steep dirt track.  Exhilarating and fun, I would happily do the run again in a heart-beat to relive that feeling.

When I run on my own, I'm running around my neighbourhood, so it's all roads, cars and houses.  Which I actually don't mind.  But running in the bush is different.  It's a truly enjoyable experience that I could definitely get used to.  It was so gorgeously quiet.  At one stage I actually thought somebody was playing drums.  I kept stopping and looking around me.  Nothing.  After the third time, I realised it was the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.  True story.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of happy.  Grocery shopping, more coffee with The Architect, and finishing off Mitch Albom's "Tuesdays with Morrie".  Enlightening, sobering and inspirational.

The day finished much like it started.  With a whole lot of loveliness.  The Architect made us pizzas for dinner and I foraged around in the back of the pantry and emerged triumphant with a bottle of red.

The Architect is currently getting both kids to bed and once he emerges, we'll settle down to watch a movie together.  Yes, it's been a lovely, lovely day.

How's yours been?  What are the plans for tomorrow?

Thursday, 7 June 2012

My movie timeline

Just for sh*ts and giggles I thought I'd do a movie timeline for my life.  Here 'tis!

The 70's

In actual fact - my first introduction to Bambi was a 30cm record that Mum used to play for me when I was young.  I think she still has these....unless my Dad has thrown them out.  Which is highly likely.

Which 70s kid HASN'T seen this movie?  And which girl didn't wish she was Sandy and wearing those tights.  It even made me want to smoke.  Seriously.

Tell me about it.  Stud.

The 80's

Oh Ralph....I was SO in love with you.  And as for the soundtrack - well, I still can't listen to Banarama "Cruel Summer" without wanting to jump around and do injury-inducing high kicks around the place.


And then just like that - I forgot all about Ralph Macchio and it was HELLO Tom Cruise! Val who?  I didn't even notice Val - I was so totally into Tom Cruise that I completely ignored the gay connotations and the big nose.

That's right.  I'm dangerous...

And so begins my "thing" for Mickey Rourke.  I'm going to stand proud and say that I still have a "thing" for him now.  Yes, NOW.  As in - how he looks right. this. minute.

Shrug.  It is what it is.

The 90's

By this stage in my life I had a hairstyle to rival Julia's (ie messy and curly).  Well that's what I liked to think anyway.  My fringe was about as high as Bobby Brown's and nowhere near as beautified as Julia's, but I was convinced.

50 bucks grandpa - for 75 the wife can watch.

Oh my God.  I had it bad for this movie.  An old friend of mine went to the cinema to watch it about four times.  And then there were the video rentals.  I couldn't get enough of Eddie in this movie.

You never, ever think a woman that fine would have hammer time in her shoe.

And this one.  This one was the first movie I saw with The Architect.  There were a lot of scenes in this movie that I wish I had never seen (I already have an active imagination - I don't need more reason to be even more neurotic).

The 2000's

 I mean really.  What is there to say?

My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, loyal servant to the true emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.

And continuing with my "thing" with Mickey.  I give you, Sin City...

I loved these movies.  Loved them.  I'm not sure I could actually watch them again, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching The Bride take her vengeance on Bill and Cottonmouth.  And Black Mamba.  And Copperhead.

Oh and the whistle tune from the soundtrack?  That's my ringtone.

 I've killed a hell of a lot of people to get to this point. But I have only one more. The last one, the one I'm driving to right now. The only one left. And when I arrive at my destination, I am gonna kill Bill.

I know I've left a lot out and the minute I hit "publish" I'm going to be saying "d'oh!  how could I have forgotten THAT one?!".  But never mind.

So tell me.  What would your movie timeline look like?

All images courtesy of

Tuesday, 5 June 2012

To my Nanna xx

Today would have been my Nanna’s 82nd birthday.  She died six days before my 18th birthday (21 years ago) and I still cry whenever I think about her.   I think she would have been happy with the life I have now.  She would have been happy with the peace there is between my Mum and I, the gorgeous husband I found, and the two children we have had together.

She died aged 61 and personally I think that’s too young.  Naturally I’m going to say that because she was my Nanna, but my Mum is now 62 and I would like to think she will be around for a long time to come.

When you’re a teenager or even in your twenties, sixty seems like such an old age.  But now.  Sitting here at 38, I don’t think it seems that old at all.

Nanna lost her struggle with cancer in July 1991.  Mum, Little Warrior and I went to her grave today and lay flowers.   I wished her a Happy Birthday.  And I wished she was here for one last hug.  One last pinch on my cheek.

I love you Nanna and miss you more than anything.


Are you still fortunate enough to still have your grandparents?

Free images from

Saturday, 2 June 2012

Everyday is a blessing

I thought I was having a bad day.  Nothing seemed to be going right.  The kids had been fighting from the moment they woke up and now I had just discovered that we had an ant infestation in our pantry.  They. Were. Everywhere.  I just wanted to scream.  Or run away and hide.

And then I remembered.

I remembered the fire in Qatar that had occurred only the day before and I felt shamed.  I wasn’t having a bad day.  Next to the children and the carers who died in the fire on Monday, I was fortunate.  Fortunate to be alive.  Fortunate to be able to hear my children fighting.  Fortunate to still be here to deal with these ants.  Fortunate to be hosting my own damn pity party.  It grounded me and reminded me that everyday is a blessing.

Tonight we had dinner with friends, and as I sat at that table and enjoyed a lovely meal and fun company, I found myself thinking of how fortunate we are.  Yes, life is hectic at times.  Yes, things are a little tight and yes, raising children does have its challenges, but we are all here.  We still get to be together.

There’s too many bad things that can happen.  So many bad stories in the world that make you hold your loved ones closer.  All these things make me more mindful and aware of what I have and how much it’s worth.

When we got home, Polynesian Princess begged me to let her sleep in our bed.  My knee-jerk reaction was “no”.  She came back with “why not?” and I had no answer.  I thought about the parents of the children lost in Monday’s fire; of how they would give anything to have them back.  How they would love to lie in bed and cuddle their children while they slept.  Just like PP was begging me to do tonight. 

I relented.  Of course I did.  I had no good reason to say no, and quite apart from the fact that the kids love being in bed with us, I love it too.  I don’t love it when Little Warrior kicks us in the head/back/kidneys or face, but the other stuff – the hugs, kisses, sleeping face to face – I love all of that.  I adore it.  So why not say yes while they’re still asking?  Why not, indeed?

So I urge you to embrace the day and accept it as a gift.  Everyday is a blessing.



Friday, 1 June 2012


I couldn’t believe I was doing this.  And yet I still did.

Polynesian Princess and Little Warrior were in her room when the fighting started.  Then they started yelling out “Muuuuuuum!”, “Muuuuuuum!”.  I think I actually groaned.  Yet another little fight – probably the eleventy millionth one for the morning and it wasn’t even 7:30am.

The yelling continued.  “Muuuuuuuuuuuuum!”,  “Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum!”

Sing-song little voices rising at the beginning and ending somewhere mid-range.  More volume at the top, less volume at the bottom.

Repeat ad nauseum.
Second verse, same as the first.

And where was I?  Well I was on the throne!  I was ‘otherwise occupied’.  I was on the toilet for crying out loud!

And I thought “I’m not going to answer, maybe they’ll sort it out themselves”.  Stop laughing, I seriously thought that.

But as time ticked by, the yelling continued, and they wandered all over the house, into different rooms “Muuuuuuuuum”,  “Muuuuum”…


I remember when I was young, my Mum used to threaten to change her name because she got so sick of the sound of it.  Naturally, as a child you don’t understand that sentiment, but now I do.  Now, sitting on the toilet, and not answering my children, I got it.

Eventually they found me.  Well, you would expect that right?  I mean our house isn’t that big and I was literally a sitting duck.  Eventually that toilet door swung open and the two of them stood there, facing me, in all my glory.

PP: What are you doing?
Me: I’m on the toilet
PP: Well he got into my lip gloss and he even put it all over my chair!
Me: Yep
PP: And I can smell it all over him, Mum!
Me: Yep

Neither of them knew what to make of me at the moment, so they left me.  In peace.

On my throne.

Ahhhhhh.....THAT'S better :)

Free images from