Where have you been Melinda? Usually you post 600 sub-par words on some random crap quite regularly but you have deviated from this predictable pattern. Why so, delicate flower?
Why so? Here’s why:
My daughter turned seven and decided to put ‘masochistic dictator’ onto her ever growing list of new found skills. She likes Shopkins and come hell or my grey hairs, she wanted a Shopkins party for herself and eight of her bestest friends. Like any mother worth her Continue reading
As a mum who can be in turn lazy and highly organised, I’ve come across a few ingenious ways to stay sane at dinner time when I’ve only got a few minutes to prepare before the lounge room explodes in a crying screaming toddler fight club. That delightful part of the Witching Hour when you realise the kids should have been fed about 30 minutes ago and there’s only so much more Paw Patrol they’ll watch before heads start to explode with hanger (it’s a thing). Continue reading
My dear grandmother passed away last week. She was 95.
I stood in the kitchen doing the dishes the other night when my husband looked over from the computer and said:
“Wow. You’re really turning me on there.” Continue reading
Warning: this post contains swear words and sarcasm. CLICK OUT NOW IF YOU DON’T LIKE SWEAR WORDS. And yes, I’m shouting there.
I’ve been skiting lately on Instagram about how awesome I am now that my kids can ride bikes and we can ride bikes together and it’s so idyllic because we can ride bikes.
Did you get that? Just in case you missed it: YIKES BIKES.
Why am I so excited by this? Because it took us a looong time to get to this point including a doomed dalliance with stabilisers, hysterics, bruises and plus walking anywhere with kids takes shitloads longer than riding. I’m going to share the steps needed to get your little ones awesome on bikes too, not crying or screaming protractedly whilst pushing bikes.
Warning: Apart from the odd swear word, this post also contains some serious thought. Not particularly intelligent, but serious nonetheless.
The last few weeks have been a blur of school holidays and getting shit done. Each day has been a running sheet of survival amongst the weeds of making food, trying to tap out some paid words, getting to appointments somewhere near ‘on time’ and pretending like I give a toss about the growing mess under the bench where the kids eat and whether mice will soon realise there’s a smorgasbord to be had there. There’s also the bathing and the feeding and the putting to bed and then some more feeding (WTF kids GO TO SLEEP!?). Amongst the weeds are the hardier saplings of catching up with friends and wonderful lazy lunches, kids’ birthday parties, the first swim of the season, pyjamas til lunchtime and the like: things that stick out as ‘good’ or ‘memorable’ or ‘worthwhile’.
And after some awful news, I’ve been trying to remember them more than ever: to build pathways to them through the quagmire of my brain.
Very recently we had a brief message from an old friend who’d been battling cancer courageously and successfully. But he wrote that it had won and he was now choosing which pain medication to spend the rest of his fragile, short life on. Continue reading
I’ve written about what to do in Noosa if it’s raining, what it’s like in the Noosa Everglades and the unbridled joys of over-holidaying. But it’s time to bring on a bit of realism and talk about what you should do in Noosa if you’re exhausted, really lazy or just prefer to expend as little effort as possible to gain the greatest outcome. Continue reading