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Oh, my nuts!

Rude words and why Baby G thinks we can’t say them at school.

Last week, my big kids each had a friend over to play. Baby G was feeling left out because the big girls wanted alone time sans little sister, so I suggested she go play with the boys, who are good-natured and would probably include her. She happily skipped off to Little Man’s room and I got busy cooking dinner, enjoying this peaceful moment to myself and patting myself on the back for engineering it. After a while, I realised she hadn’t come back so I went to check up on her and the boys. I peeped around the doorway to Little Man’s bedroom and saw him and his little mate jumping of the bed and shouting rude words at the top of their lungs (as 8 year old boys do) followed by raucous laughter. Baby G, of course, was howling with laughter and joining in. Of course. Read the rest of this entry

Kissing Hands

Baby G has had a hard time saying goodbye in the mornings (here’s the full Diva recount).  Little Miss Independent has turned into a  cling-on of grand proportions and I’ve accepted that we’ve entered the OMG-I-need-to-get-back-into-that-womb-NOW phase. After a few mornings of tears and trauma, her beautiful teacher sent the classroom copy of The Kissing Hand, by Audrey Penn home with her for us to read (wonderful book, by the way). She also sent home the Kindy‘s plush “Chester” doll for a sleepover.

In this book, Chester doesn’t want to go to school, so his mother gives him the reassurance he needs in the form of The Kissing Hand. I don’t want to give away too much, but suffice to say, it is beautiful and wuzzy (warm AND fuzzy) and an absolute must for children whose umbilical cords are still attached, bungee-like, to their mothers.

If you have ever had a four year old, you can imagine the ENORMITY of this honour. Not every kid gets to take Chester home, you must understand. Chester, in case you’re wondering, is the raccoon in the book. See the sweet little heart in his paw? That’s the love that his mama raccoon left when she kissed his hand. All together now: Awwwww. Read the rest of this entry

The Not Very Nice Day.

The Not Very Nice Day After waking up from a horrible nightmare and simultaneously realising I had overslept, I woke up my three sleeping children (because they only wake up at Sparrow’s Fart on weekends, of course) and BEGGED them to PLEASE get ready as quickly as possible so we wouldn’t be late for school. Miss M dawdled and danced in front of the mirror, then stood in the middle of the kitchen NOT eating breakfast NOR brushing teeth NOR doing her hair, causing me to turn into a screaming banshee with the parenting skills of a toad. Little Man did everything I asked at the pace of a snail on Rohypnol and simply refused point-blank to hurry up. He was so slow, in fact, that I had to remind him to chew his food after he put it in his mouth. Oh yes. Read the rest of this entry


Kidversations Living with my kids is like house-sharing with a comedy trio. The conversations in my house make me routinely shoot coffee out of my nose. I’m pretty sure their comic dialogue is some kind of evolutionary survival instinct thing…it certainly saves our sanity on those “Mama is losing her mind” days. (Let’s be honest – that’s most days because getting my kids to listen and follow instructions is a parenting skill I am yet to master.) Just last week, this conversation took place while I was driving the girls to dancing. It led to me nearly crashing into a tree:
Baby G: Muuuum, do i come from China? Me: No, you’re Australian, Sweetie. Baby G: But Miss M says I come from China! Miss M: I did not say she comes from China… I said she came out of your VAGINA! Read the rest of this entry

An Open Letter to Jessica Simpson

Dear Jessica,  I heard your exciting news on the radio this morning and I want to congratulate you. Apparently, you’re expecting a massive weight gain! I was under the impression that you were expecting a baby, but that ridiculous assumption was cleared up right away by those lovely DJs. I am obviously misguided in my (warped?) impression that pregnancy was all about creating a baby and growing a family. How silly of me. Read the rest of this entry

I’m Not The Favourite.

Hanging out our dirty laundry Today’s post is a MOMfession by Tracy @ Momaical Blog What’s the MOMfessional? It’s a place where Parenting Bloggers can come to write about something that they usually keep hidden. It’s a place where we let our skeletons out of the closet and let ‘em dance! Welcome to the MOMfessional – a space where other parenting bloggers can let it all hang out.  Read the rest of this entry

Directions to Fairyland.

Today’s post was written by my mother, and it explains one hundred percent how I am who I am today and why I try so hard every day to live up to the job description of Mom as set out by her. I was so blessed to be brought up by this remarkable woman. I hope you enjoy it, give it a thumbs-up and share it with your friends. C’mon, give my mama some love!

Fairyland does exist

Directions to Fairyland.  by Gill Katz

I climbed my first tree when I was four years old. It was a gnarled old Jacaranda which bordered our pretty little suburban home in Khumalo, Bulawayo in a then sane kind of Zimbabwe, and the reason for my climb was not altogether my own idea. “If you climb up the tree..” said older sister Vivien – an very mature and grown-up 10 year old with red curls and a temperament to match – “you will be able to see Fairyland.” Read the rest of this entry

Our Dirty Weekend.

My mother gave me a piece of brilliant advice when I was expecting my first child. She likened me to a jug and explained that from that jug, I’d be expected to pour love, nurturing, teaching and compassion into the little vessel that would be my child. She used this analogy to illustrate that if the jug is empty, there will be nothing to pour into that precious little vessel. Lesson: As a mother, it is vital that I always make sure my own jug is full. This little lesson has been one I have had to learn and relearn many times. Those days I’ve snapped at the kids, lost patience with their questions, been too tired to play puzzles – those are the days I’ve realised my jug is empty and it’s time for a refill. What do I do to refill? I paint, I run, I write, I catch up with a friend over a coffee and sometimes I get to do really cool stuff, like this past weekend. This past Sunday, hubby and I got down and dirty. We behaved badly. It was fun. Oh, and we took pictures. Wanna see? Read the rest of this entry

I’m being bullied.

There’s this girl I know. She hates me. She watches my life with avid fascination…every little thing I do. Mostly, I’m able to avoid her, but every now and again, she finds me. Yesterday, I was having one of ‘those’ days. You know the kind – when life seems too much and nothing goes according to plan? I was feeling like a failure because other people seem to manage the juggle so well and I was just.not.managing. Well, I bumped into The Girl. She looked at me and smirked. She looked at my disheveled appearance and her satisfaction was palpable. Without a care in the world, she said, “You’re pathetic. Your husband deserves better. Your kids deserve better. You are a failure, Michelle.” Just like that. Read the rest of this entry

Sometimes, being Mummy ain’t all that.

When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to be a mum. Not a pilot, a scientist, a doctor. Not a farmer, a dancer, a teacher. A mum. Yes, I studied and built an extremely successful career as a Copywriter and yes, I loved it. I’d be lying, however, if I told you I was devastated to drop it all and become a stay-at-home mum when Little Miss was born. Fast forward 9 years. Now I am mum to Little Miss (9), Little Man (7) and Baby G (3). I am still a stay-at-home mum, while running my (tiny) one-man business on the side. Here’s the thing: this stay-at-home mum thing is killing me. There, I said it. What’s more, I suck at it. Read the rest of this entry

You suck!

“You suck!”

Are you aware that you tell your kids this all the time? I did once. I would tell them, “You’re fat, unattractive, unloveable. You are not good enough. I wish you looked like that prettier person over there.”

Shocked? I’ll bet that you do the same. Every day. And you don’t even know it.

Let me explain.

That child of yours looks at you like you’re a superhero, right? To her, you’re the most beautiful, cleverest, strongest person in the whole wide world. EVER. She wants to be just like you because, to her, you are everything.  From the time she was little, she mimicked you. She wore bejeweled necklaces and tottered around in your high heels. She painted your lipstick all over her face and looked at herself in the mirror, admiring just how like you she was. She speaks like you, she walks like you. And, as she grows up, she’ll look to you for advice. YOU ARE HER EVERYTHING.

She watches you even when you think she isn’t – especially when you think she isn’t.

She sees you looking in the mirror, grimacing and muttering about your cellulite. She hears you discussing how fat you think you are and how disgusting you think you look in your jeans. She watches you as you eat a piece of chocolate and then admonish yourself for being naughty. She is hyper-aware of the ugly names you call yourself when you make a mistake.

Here’s the thing. She thinks you’re perfect and she aspires to be just like you. If you call yourself – her hero - fat, stupid, ugly and worthless, you’re telling her that even if she manages to reach the pinnacle of perfection that you, in her eyes, are, you will think these things about her. She will learn from you that she will never be good enough. Because you don’t think you are good enough.

I used to be that person – the one who would say horrendous things to myself that I would never say to my worst enemy. Things that I would never let someone say to anyone I love. But somehow, it was okay to say these things to myself. Until, one day, when I was standing in front of the mirror, looking hatefully at myself and my little girl happened to walk in. She saw me looking at myself and said “Mum, why do you look so cross?” She gazed at me like I was an angel. Her eyes were filled with absolute love and admiration. She looked at me like I was the most exquisite person she had ever seen. A light bulb switched on in my head. Why not at least try to start seeing myself the way she sees me? Why not look in the mirror and see myself through kinder eyes.

Things changed after that day. Of course I still see my (multitude of) flaws. Oh, boy, do I see them! But I try my best to eat well, exercise and dress well. I even make it out of the house most days not covered in Vegemite. The difference is that when I look in the mirror, I see someone who has had three kids, who is a devoted mum and wife, who works really hard, who has her own unique talents. I see kind eyes. I see a generous heart. And when my little girl walks in and catches me eyeing out my saggy spectacular bum, I look at her, smile and say “Don’t I look lovely today?” And, do you know what? She does a cheerful twirl in front of the mirror, smiles a gappy grin and says, “Yes! And I look beautiful, too!”

They don’t always listen to what we say, but they absolutely learn from what we do.

Do you want your child to love herself? Don’t tell her she’s worth it. Tell her you are. 

BlogHer Voices of the Year committees have selected "You Suck!" to be honored at the 5th annual Voices of the Year Community Keynote.    Out of over 2,000 submissions, the committee has chosen "You Suck!" to be among the 25 Honorees in the Inspiration category.

Out of over 2,000 submissions, the BlogHer Voices of the Year Committee has chosen “You Suck!” to be among the 25 Honorees in the Inspiration category. “You Suck!” will be honored at the 5th annual Voices of the Year Community Keynote at the BlogHer ’13 Conference in Chicago.

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Fairy princess tea parties are seriously underrated.

Today, I needed Miss G to sleep. I had a lot of work to do and not much time. We spent the morning doing ‘special girl stuff’ like ballet and playing princesses with her best little friend EVER in the whole wide world, we ate lunch and I popped her into bed for a nap at midday, confident that I’d get an hour of work done as she slept.
Miss G, of course, insisted on napping in a purple fairy dress and ballet shoes – so she could have fairy dreams. Of course. I kissed her goodnight, wished her the fairyest of all fairy dreams and ran off to the study to work.
Naturally, after fifteen minutes, I heard movement.
I sneaked down the passage to her bedroom and there she was, dancing in front of the mirror to Baby Mozart and declaring to her teddies that she was, without doubt, the prettiest fairy princess of all time. When she looked up and saw me, a look of pure panic registered on her face. Busted.

A special day

This morning Miss M came to me, as she does every morning, and asked me to check to see if any of her teeth are wobbly. You see – for the last 18 months she has been watching all her friends begin to lose teeth and get visited by the tooth fairy but her teeth have remained firmly ensconced. This has been a MAJOR source of angst for my little lady who is so desperate to have the longed-for tooth fairy experience. Even a special note written by the tooth fairy herself and covered in fairy dust, assuring Miss M that her teeth are the most special and being saved for last, didn’t do much to dull the yearning. Well today, when I did the routine wobbly-tooth check, what did I find but a REAL ACTUAL DINKUM TRUE BLUE wobbly tooth. I yelled out excitedly that she was now the proud owner of her first wobbly tooth. If I could bottle the look of pure, unadulterated joy on her face, I’d have a source of happiness to last forever. She ran to fetch a mirror and held it in front of her mouth and asked me to please wobble her tooth for her so she could see. When she saw it for herself, she began to jump for joy. Literally. This kid was jumping round the house, giggling, yelping, literally bouncing off the walls with happiness. Read the rest of this entry
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