Good Boy Mum!

My eyes are about to pop out of my head. I just rang the Karitane Hotline (Tresillian only do up to age 2). I need me some sleep. I need me some sleep something chronic. I am like a swinging pendulum, one minute delirious, the next way-too-serious.

Tiny has some serious questions to answer. In particular, why the aversion to sleep? Why no day sleeps for three days? Why no night sleeps? Why why why?

Up 'til midnight and she still has energy. Enough energy to throw herself down on the floor and tanty like it's 1999.

I don't give a brass razoo about chocolate eggs. I want the Easter bunny to bring me a big, fat sleep. A big one. A huge one.

Despite the fact Tiny is driving me stark raving bonkers she still makes me giggle with 'Good boy mum!'. Here she is, herself going slightly bonkers, her latest faux happy facial expression.

Robin Bloody 'ood

I've signed up for the Robin Hood tax. But have you? What a ridiculously simple and ridiculously awesome idea.



Or click here.

Found via Hugo & Elsa.

Seven Things..

This week I have been tagged by Wendy of the Textured Leaf and Anna at Rummey Bears for a Kreative Blog award. I have to tell you 7 things about myself and then pass it on to 7 blogging buddies (it's kind of like Seven Brides for Seven Brothers but without the nuptials.)

And 3-2-1, here we go:

1. I've worn glasses since I was 4. I had pink glasses right up until I was about 9. Then I switched to some sweet action Jonathon Sceats frames. Because let's face it, I know style.

2. When I was little I wrote stories all the time. I'd sit up on my Mum's typewriter and type them out straight from my head. I loved the clack, clack and the sleek black of that machine. I'd then illustrate them too with scratchy lines and coloured pencil.

3. I have shaved my head twice. It was an awesome feeling. Until one of my parent's very elderly friends thought I was a boy and then kept exclaiming that she thought they had had three girls, and in fact they had a boy. I sat there and didn't say a thing while my parents kept saying, 'No no, she's a girl.' She was deaf and partially blind, so probably continued thinking I was a boy. Shortly after I grew my hair back.

4. One night I was out with friends and this guy approached me. I exclaimed 'Wow you look like... YOU ARE TOADIE!' - it was Toadie from Neighbours. He quickly left me alone. Phew.

5. Every night before bed I insisted on my Dad tucking me in really tight. So tight I couldn't move. If I moved and and the sheets lost that tension, I called out to him to come and tuck me back in. I now realise why he would get so annoyed at me.

6. When I was growing up I wanted to be: a lawyer (until I found out how long they go to uni, er no thanks), a teacher, a writer, or a TV presenter.

7. I am really an overweight middle-aged man sitting here in my undies and a net singlet. Ok. I'm not. But I can't think of a seventh.

Can you?

Seven things for seven bloggers. Who wants to play?

- Two Tuesdays

- Mogantosh

- Georgie Love

- Paper Dolls For Boys

- Knot Sew Crafty

- Far Out Brussel Sprout

- Teddy Bear's Wednesday

Ok. I have the guilts. My seventh thing about me: I really love to dance on tables. Back in the day when I used to frequent Hugo's I used to clear stranger's tables off and hop up and dance. It was compulsive. It was contagious. It was uber fun.

Oh and the picture above is me. See how white my teeth are? Something to do with fluoride. I must have been 3, sans glasses.

I Am Deeply Interesting

I love the rain. It was so nice to wake up to the pitter patter, not of Tiny's feet, but of the rain on our roof, on the footpath, falling on the grass, wetting our newly potted Snapdragons and Stock. Looking out into that was - a relief.

I've decided to mix things up a bit here in PMM HQ. We've ditched swimming next term because I hate swimming when it's bitter cold, and shuffling two small bodies between car and pool seems a very unromantic notion. Couple that with ye olde Wintery croup, ear infections and tonsillitis, and I feel an overwhelming weight has been lifted. Free-ing up our days is absolutely a good thing.

What else? I've switched around some furniture, but that came all unstuck when I realised I couldn't actually get the bed out of Tiny's room, so now it's stuck in there and the Doctor has no bed. He's gone bohemian. It took me a full ten minutes of staring at that bed to realise it was not coming out without being disassembled. So I went and had a shower instead.

PS - If you feel like you haven't had enough of me yet, you can always pop over to HandmadeNews and read an interview with me. Enough about me. What do you think about me?

Image via this blog. Dedicated to Vintage Glasses. Me likey!

We're A Little...Er.. Easterlerious

Are your kids hopping mad? Or maybe it's you that's eggscited? How many corny gags can I fit into this eggscellent first para? Do you like cheep cheep jokes?

We've gone more than a little plum loco.

For those who are interested: No. Tiny is still not sleeping. And we've gone a little loopy.

Masks from Spotlight. Because they seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Five Faves

I'm playing along with Pip's Five Faves again.


1. Making and finishing (well almost) the above bunny. Which has rotated. Courtesy of Blogger. I just need to make his tail.
2. Having a quiet Sunday afternoon at home. That's been swell.
3. Everyone tidying the house this weekend and NOT leaving it just to me.
4. The sunshine today. It's not been so humid and it's been such a pretty day.
5. Watching this film. It was beautiful and oh-so moving. I dare you to watch with a dry eye!

What are your five faves?

The End.

Getting Stuffed

Today I had the incredible idea that I would make the smalls a bunny each for Easter. I'd been looking on the internet for colouring-in stencils for kids, and stumbled across the perfect bunny to stitch.

So here is my prototype. Pretty darn wonky, but the Doctor already lays claim to him.

Ignore the dishevelled ear. Ignore the pure wonkiness and uneveness. He could be cute. If you squint your eyes really tight. He could be. And we could be heroes.

The funniest thing is, my mother-in-law misheard me and thought I was making our real-life rabbit a stuffed bunny.. I mean I have done some kooky things, but.. well, I don't even adore the real-life rabbit. He ate my handbag for goodness sakes. He ate my favourite handbag. My handbag that even had its own name (Keith Richards). And the damn rabbit ate it. He's not getting anything from his mate at Easter. Nothin'.

Weekend Tipple

I am horizontal on the couch. I deserve to be this way. The truth is, after this week I deserve a pair of Manolo Blahniks, an Easter Bunny on call, my own personal chef, and a honking big bungalow right next to the beach.

Next week is going to be a really freaking awesome week because this one has most definitely been left wanting.

Last night Tiny took to a bottle of Taav Vaporiser Fluid. Seriously. Thanks be to the Poisons Information Hotline. Thanks Tiny for taking another ten years off my life. Previously she has tried to eat - random berries off a tree (poisonous), and dishwasher powder (caustic). She is probably going to be a chemical Masterchef.

In light of this, I give you Battle of Bosworth wines. Ta da!

A while ago I mentioned the beautiful labels (and wine) that was by Spring Seed Company - remember that boozers? Well this is by the same people.

And while my local Vintage Cellars didn't have the Sav blanc, I went for the Chardonnay Viognier which is, let me tell you, awesome to the power of awesome. Let the half full bottle vouch for this.

Oh and I didn't even mention, it's organic. So it must be good. And the label is uber cool too. Brown paper. If I had three thumbs, well it would get three thumbs up.

Easter-licious

Looky looky! Naughty Jess from Teddy Bear's Wednesday very generously sent me a Momma Chookie. So I found Momma Chookie some cute little pink eggs. On Easter Sunday those little eggs will hatch into some of these for the smalls. They are so darn cute and plump!

The Doctor and I have been busily arranging an Easter area (unfortunately for Tiny, she's been trying to eat the eggs. They're wooden. Not very tasty. Unless you're a borer.)Tiny and the Doctor have been colouring in and drawing and it's going straight to the pool room. Or the wall in this case.

What are you doing to get yourself Easter ready?

Another Good Reason To Learn To Crochet

Last night, while trawling the interwebs (I am like some crazed fisherman setting out my nets to see what I can haul in) I came across something so super fantastic you won't even believe your eyes. In my quest to find that Chanel bag that is pictured down there (scroll down because I can't be bothered to link) I came across this piece of genius. In fact it's not genius. It's Genius. With a capital G.

Stephanie Syjuco: The Counterfeit Crochet Project (Critique of a Political Economy). I am four years late to this party but I am still turning up. Crocheters are counterfeiting designer handbags of all the big labels: Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Dolce e Gabbana, Prada, Gucci etc.

Do you know how cool this is? All my gal pals have beautiful handbags and I troll around with my vintage bags that are all dying a slow and ungraceful death. I could rock one of these crocheted beauties. Imagine their faces. GOLD! It's a statement piece and totes legitimately cool! Get the feeling me likey? ME LIKEY!

The official website is here. But don't go there without me. I want to come too.

A Real Community Service

My friend Sheilsy posted this link on Facebook. It's worth a peek. Because as you know I like anything silly and ridiculous and I love really dumb ads.

I am still laughing at the above billboard. The photo quality is very poor. But I had to post it because your day would not have been complete without it. Trust me. I'm a professional.

Calling All Crazy Keen Crocheters

I fast need to make friends with a crazy good crocheter. Like pronto dudes. How cool is this Chanel bag? UBER!

image via Alex Keller

Are You (GASP!) A Mummy Blogger? Then Go Outside And Shake Yourself

Megan at the Byron Life (who is basically living my life, but it's not mine, it's hers, but I'd like it to be my life, but it's not - oh look, oops I did it again) blogged about this the other day. And it's been bugging me.

Not Megan. But the article. Actually not the article. It's all the 'hoo har' about the article. The poor journo has been sent reeling. And how ridiculous people can be. Seriously peeps, don't take things so darn seriously!

Do you blog?
Would you categorise yourself a 'mummy blogger'?
Are you cringing at being a 'mummy blogger'?
If you are, can I book you in for some expensive counselling?

I mean of course you're blogging about bigger things, but if you a) blog and b) have child, then you are sort of going to be labelled a 'mummy blogger' (unless you're blogging about the mating cycles of small extinct reptillian bandicoots, then I guess you're some kind of kooky animal blogger). I hate to break it to you but that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

And speaking of cookies - check out these ace apple earrings over at Earl and Cookie. How was that for a segue?

PS - go visit Megan. She's a top bird!

The Littlest Reader

My littlest reader is big into doggie books. Anything with a puppy gets her seal of approval. It is for this reason that Lynley Dodd is an author/illustrator who is well-stocked in our home. Who can go past the sublime images coupled with the fast paced rythmic verse? I love reading these books out loud, they're fun for the reader and the read-ee.

The Doctor is increasingly into longer books, which is fun, each night we curl up in bed together and read for as long as he can keep his eyes open.

I read this awesome article (via the super fantastic Roxy Marj) in the NY Times about a single father reading with his daughter. It's heart-warming. It's beautiful. Read it. Read it now. Drop everything (well not the baby if you're holding one), but DO bookmark it and read it.

Bump Up The Jam

Thanks to one of my good Twitter friends I have now realised the error in my ways. I now know what my life has been missing. If only I had more hair to Bump. Please ensure you watch the video to realise the Holy Grail.

Potentially I could go from flat to fabulous in seconds. That certainly does sound enticing, doesn't it? I mean who doesn't want a massive bump/beehive on the back of their hair. And when you're in the throes of a passionate embrace, just excuse yourself quickly and remove the bumpit. You don't want to give the game away now do you ladies?

Oh my - they even have a Hollywood Bump it (do you think that might come with Sandra Bullock's husband since he's on the outer?).

The best bit? ANYONE CAN BE A STYLIST! Who knew? I would never have dreamt that!

I wonder exactly just which celebs, fashionistas and beauty queens are bumping it. No, I really DO want to know. I'm sure it wouldn't be easy to spot them, it's so natural. Manu Feildel? Is he bumping it? Jenny Hawkins? Surely she's not bumping it. Elle McPherson? No way, there's no bumping it there. Holly Valance? Potentially she could use a bump it, but rather than spending $49.95, I'm guessing she'd go with her own hair stylist to go from flat to fab.

This makes getting an undercut positively criminal. I need more hair to bump.

Back:: Recharged & Ready to Conquer

Last night I had the good fortune of a night in a hotel. By. My. Self. I was lucky enough to be invited by Pampers to enjoy the Perfect Night's Sleep.

If you're a long time reader of PMM you are already well versed in the latest bad string of broken night's we've been experiencing and the utter exhaustion that seems to have descended upon our home. If you're new, in short, this last two-three weeks has stunk on the sleeping front.

After a night out meeting some ace new people, and learning some tips from the geniuses that are Tresillian, I feel recharged and ready to tackle pretty well anything that might be thrown at me (except fire batons - don't throw those at me).

I came home to my two littlies who were happily playing. I packed lunch like there was no tomorrow. Seriously, a sleep by yourself is definitely underrated. It feels so luxurious!

What's your ultimate luxury?

PS - I'd quite like that luxury up there - Princess and the Pea by Maileg via Toy Boutique.

Meeting New People

Today the two smalls and I went to the park. I was meeting a friend who has children a similar age. We started chatting to a new mum who had just moved into the area. I asked for her phone number as we were about to leave to go to our next 'thing'.

It's my new thing. I've met so many mums in the park and never asked their number for fear of looking like a dork. It's something that I have occasionally regretted. Particularly because I am not exactly heavy on friends who live close by. Today I asked for her number. I am crazy like that.

On yesterday's post front, I'm not feeling particularly lonely/sad, it's just that I always do think about that proverb. My family is incredibly supportive, they just don't live conveniently next door (and they are interested, yes! they are). But sometimes it would be good to have other offers of help. I always feel a pang of envy when I hear someone say, 'oh blah blah is looking after the kids so I can clean the house.' Silly to feel envy about cleaning the house, but without two smalls - pure luxury!

And as an aside, wouldn't it be interesting to remove the stigma of being lonely or asking for help, if everyone started talking about it? It wouldn't be so shame-inducing!

The Doctor and I have been working on some Easter decorations. I've let him be the Cruise Director, so we made a HAPPY EASTER! poster. It's an eclectic array of drawings, painting, stickers and cutting and pasting. I quite like how it's turned out, and it's fun to sit with him and let him direct it. Tiny had a wee bit of work on this one too.

PS - there's a giveaway over at Fat Mum Slim's giving you the opportunity to win your own Jumi shoes.

The Village People

There's an old African proverb that says 'it takes a village to raise a child'. Hillary Clinton might on occasion get the credit for it, but it's older than that bird.

I've been thinking hard about this saying. But in a general sense - not just for myself, but in this day and age where it's more like com-mutiny than community. I'm not feeling particularly morose, I just wondered, what DOES ONE do when you have no one?

What happens if you don't have actually have a 'village' to help you raise your child?

Or, what if your village doesn't want to help you raise your child? What if your village is too busy with their own life to help? What if helping you raise your children is just not your village people's thing?

Then what?

I remember in the early days, after the birth of the Doctor, the nurses, midwives, Early Childhood nurses all implored how important it is to let people help. But what happens when no one offers to help? Or there's no one to ask/beg for help?

We struggled in the early days, particularly after the birth of the Doctor. I had mastitis just 10 days after giving birth. I wasn't sleeping well. It was a steep learning curve. Whenever I'd hear a peep from my wee babe I would scuttle over. I was a wreck. Couple that with not feeling confident (I remember my first thoughts when carrying the Doctor through the front door for the first time were 'Oh my goodness, we are responsible for this wee darling baby's survival'.)

I didn't have a Mother's Group because I dropped out after just a couple of weeks. Attending was angsty and tedious (not to say I felt confident by myself, but it was all about competing, who knew the most, and the fact that I never really clicked with anyone. I just dreaded it).

To be completely honest, I didn't want to leave the Doctor when I first had him. I hated leaving him. I wanted to be with him. But if I had a village to help me raise my children - then life would have been a whole lot peachier. But I didn't even know my neighbours. And society has evolved in that way so I can pass through weeks, months, years without even saying as much as 'hello' to them.

I often think about my friends who are single parents. I wonder how do they cope when they are exhausted. When they are so fatigued they're snappy and can't swap with someone for a quick cat nap? Parenting is a big enough gig that is sometimes difficult even for two people, let alone winging it solo. This weekend has certainly confirmed that for me. I'm still bone achingly tired and so darn cross. I can't shake it.

So tell me - how do you gather 'round ye olde village people when you need to raise some helpers?

Five Faves

I'm joining in with Pip's brand spanking new meme. Five Faves.

I'm letting you in on my very favourite funny websites. They each never fail to make me laugh. To the point Matt hears me laughing and says "Oh no Lexi" because he knows I will be on there for ages and ages and ages giggling to myself. Sad I know. But not sad. But sad. But definitely not sad. FUNNY!

Unhappy Hipsters.

Sorry I Missed Your Party.

Cake Wrecks.

Go Fug Yourself.

I Can Has Cheezburger

Hook yourself up and play too!

All Cuddled Out:: The Tiny Torturer

Dear Tiny,

It might well be fun and games on night one of climbing out of your cot repeatedly and peeking around the corner. Yes it's funny. Yes it's cripplingly cute. And endearing. And I do want to squash you because I love you so much.

But let's get real.

By night seven it's NOT so funny. If you were a comedian I'd ask you to stop laughing at your own jokes. Of course I love you, I adore you, but hey tiny lady, sleep deprivation is a tool of torture that you're a little too familiar with.

My eyes are struggling to stay open. I'm cranky. I'm no good. I'm behaving like I've been eating cans and cans of Snappy Tom. I'm daydreaming of sleeping. I lay on our bed today with dead eyes. I couldn't even move when I heard you cry, thankfully your Dad intervened.

In fact, with this type of sleep deprivation I feel as if I have a newborn (and have thoughtfully included a photo above, though you were more like 5 months there). Those first few days/weeks of excruciatingly hard sleep deprivation. One day I hope you know that tiredness.

A newborn in the shape of a small toddler. Who climbs out of bed all the time. And currently has an ear infection which is directly proportional to how many cuddles you seem to require day and night.

I am not a good person to be around when I am severely sleep deprived. This weekend, unfortunately, I think you've discovered this.

Last night when your Dad and I were watching a movie, and you decided to come out, and watch it with us, despite the fact that it was 9:30pm and your regular bedtime is 6:30pm, remember that? I'm sure you do. I certainly do, I'm well familiar with it. You peeked around the corner at us - oh - about fifty seven times at least, and then came and sat on me. Then on your Dad. Then on me. Then on your Dad. It continued that way for a long time. That was cute. But after the third hour of returning you to your bedroom, it became painful. Frustrating.

And tonight, having returned you to your bed for the tenth time (yes, yes I am counting) I am pooped. I am tired. I am plum tuckered and fresh out of cuddles. I need some time to lie on the couch without anyone touching me. I am officially touched out.

Please, please find something else that is funny. That we all, mutually, think is funny. Sleep deprivation can definitely make me get a lot uglier.

In sleep,

Your Mama. x

You CAN!

How cool is this?

Donate your old mobile phone (which is probably taking up space in a drawer, or just randomly tossed somewhere around your house) and help young Australians survive cancer.

You donate it. They recycle it to raise money to build specialised youth cancer centres right across Australia.

Currently in Australia your chances of surviving certain cancers decreases by 50% the day you turn 16. These youth cancer centres will help reverse that fact.

All you have to do is pick up an envelope (available in selected newsagents and publications). Or you can print a label. Or you can order an envelope. Or drop your phone in a YOU CAN bin.

Already 396 phones have been donated.

Let's get to work and donate our unwanted phones to make a difference!

I can. You can.

Precious:: Tickets

I have two tickets to see 'Precious' tonight at the Starlight Cinema. Tiny has an ear infection and super clingy so I can't leave her.



If anyone wants them, please email me!

What's Wrong With Me?

I'm contemplating an undercut. Alice Dellal has been rocking it for yonks. But clearly I am not Alice Dellal. Apparently I don't have a cold, I've got a severe case of 80sitis. Someone call me a doctor. Or at least talk me out of it.

Here We Are...

Well Tiny is kicking back on the couch watching Upsy Daisy over and over again while demanding more and more ham. The bad thing is, I don't have any ham. She's also covered in ice cream, and while you may be thinking - 'what the heck, it's only 11:32am!' - she's been sick all week and it's been a struggle to get her to eat very much of anything. She's drinking diluted juice and sniffling away with cuddles on demand. Half covered in snot, getting sleepy but denying the need to rest. Ah this is the life of a toddler. Nothing really makes sense. Except the Pontypines are heading off to bed, so perhaps this is fortuitous, will Tiny go to bed like she needs to?

Enough about Tiny and her baby-man flu. I'm here to talk tees. And Tiny definitely needs a change in tee given she's covered in ice-cream. Perhaps she could have the top tee (for only $15 - on sale - it's practically a steal - and hand printed - and it's made in Australia. Otherwise she could definitely use the second one, but perhaps I'd have to cross out twice and replace with thrice).

For those who are in to Entourage - this tee is a brand new design - $35

Well Spotted tees are all hand screen-printed, and all made in Australia (which is a rare and golden thing). They also stock a range of eco-friendly tees. After all green is the new black.

Check out Well Spotted's website for more details.

Fantasy Island Friday:: Frothy Frocks

It's that time of the week again, with cocktail in hand, I'm lying poolside surrounded by hibiscus flowers, there's someone in the distance playing a ukelele and there's Pedro busy cleaning the pool. Such is life friends!

Between you and me, if I'd been smart I could have made my sheet post my FIF, but alas my brain has gone into slow mo' so consider yourself lucky and you're getting more bang for your buck.

So I've gone uber pretty today. I think I first discovered this Etsy seller via the supremely talented Flossy-P. I've been hooked at drooling online ever since.

1920s vintage flapper - check out that beadwork - $USD610.00

1950s vintage polka dot flocked tulle - perfect for going out in the city for a few gimlets with Betty and Don - $USD375.00

1950s vintage sunshine yellow & pink print - Peggy, this would be divine on you $USD280.00

Anyway, gimlets are to be poured and kids are to be shushed and plonked in front of the TV. Happy Fantasy Island Friday gang!

Hands Down

I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I bought some, but I've never used it. I'd much rather wash my hands than put that stuff on, and what ever happened to the immune system doing its thing? I have used hand sanitiser once or twice (in hospitals or at a nursing home) but I always feel like my hands are a bit dirty. A bit.. covered in chemicals. A bit unnatural.

But I'm throwing it open to the floor - what do you think of hand sanitisers? Do you use it?

Oh Sheet.

A quick update for anyone interested (Mum, hi!), we've put Tiny back into the cot as we've been hit with a lurgy that's making anything new abysmally difficult and woeful. I might even have a case of man flu. And I'm not even a man. Making it worse was Tiny night-waking, which is still occuring because she is so congested and just keeps saying 'nose, nose nose' while rubbing snot everywhere. It's days like these I wish I had a job to go to. Oh I do. As a mother to two children.

In my days as a Mum I can fill my time with all sorts of important stuff. Like picking up Lego. Like picking up nappies that have been tossed aside by the likes of Tiny. Like folding endless piles of washing. Like avoiding the ironing pile until it topples over and the smalls have to cross it like a small creek of crumpled clothes. Like I said, important.

As a distraction I've cast my mind on ways to keep Tiny in her bed - when she's actually in her bed. Inciting the excita-bugs. I cast my web out to the network that is the interwebs, googling 'til the cows came home. And when they didn't return, I cast out my call out to my Twitter pals who totally came to the rescue when it comes to ridiculously cool linen for a bed with cred.

Here are some of my favourites.

Castle Bedlinen: Holy smokes - I love hotel grade bedlinen, and I love yellow, and I love spots. This combines all three. That hand-printed cuff is divine to the power of divine.

Rosenberg single quilt set from Kido Store

Rosenberg single quilt set from Kido StoreBoodalee duvet & pillow set - City from Kido Store (I adore this print, so cool)

Jacob & Bonomi Lil' Apple Cot set

Tree of Life single quilt set from Jacob & Bonomi

I want this on my bed - so cute! Dwell Studio 'Gio Lemon' Duvet set

Who wouldn't want Dwell Studio's 'Dots Chocolate' duvet set (am setting myself up for chocolate dreams, baby!)

This is such an awesome idea - a waterproof fitted single bed sheet made from silky Australian Tencel fabric - mattress protector and sheet all-in-one. That is an awesome idea - don't you think? Especially in the middle of the night when you need to strip beds, why not make it all one thing! GENIUS! From Ecobabe and also available in white and blossom pink.
And Australian designed Kideko's Sunshine bed set. Bright and YELLOW! Me likey.

New Treads?

I am always on the hunt for a good shoe. As a mama I want a shoe that performs well. As a woman I want something that's stylish. Can the two factors merge? Yes. Yes they can.

Jumi's Australian designer Stuart Clarke created these shoes after his wife, Monique, complained she couldn't find a suitable shoe to go walking in. They both realised there was a real void in women's wardrobes. A ballet flat that performs like a sneaker. HELLO! The new range of Jumi shoes were born.

How's that for design ingenuinity?

They have a superior fit, they don't sag or gape like regular ballet flats, and they come in half sizes.

Jumi was created for the modern glamour girl – for the girl who likes to mix and match high fashion elements with her own street style.

Check out their website for the full range (priced between $89.95-99.95) and they're all leather to boot (except the sole of course, that's a ridiculously awesome rubber sole).

Baby Stylista

What happens when your child doesn't walk out of the house looking like those smalls posed artfully in a magazine?

What happens when your youngest doesn't want to remove her PJ top, because it sports a puppy, so she wears her PJ top as daywear for the entire shopping trip? What happens when your son dresses himself and wears trackie pants that are 2 sizes too short, and a tee two sizes too big?

What happens friends?

My children are very particular about what they wear. Well the Doctor dresses himself, and I never have the heart to tell him something doesn't go with the other thing, I don't want to strip him of the confidence. For the most part his outfits are well considered. And when they're not I am ok with it.

I mean, these are the big things plaguing me. My children's outfits.

Today the Doctor insisted on wearing as much green as possible because it's St Patrick's Day. Regardless of weather-appropriate choices, he wore whatever green he could lay his mitts on, even accessorising with a pre-Autumnal leaf.

And Tiny went out shopping with me half in PJs, half in day clothes. With unruly hair and eating Jatz. Because Jatz ARE good no matter how bogan you might think they are.

My kids never look like they've stepped from the pages of a magazine. I am ok with that. I've spent enough hours of my life wondering what to wear without stowing that on my children and starting them early.

I do sometimes hide ugly or inappropriate clothing. Such as the rash vest that Tiny ALWAYS wants to wear - shopping, to the beach, to the library, to bed. It's the rash vest that keeps on giving.

And the Doctor has deemed ugg boots for outside wear. Unfortunately (or not) they are now too small and he's ever so patiently waiting for an upgrade (maybe).

But these outfits do score some woeful looks. Like we're some crazy family that just rolled a charity bin and got dressed in whatever we found first. Whatever fits goes! Some women look at my children with curiousity (and was that a quiet 'tut tut' I heard?). Is that Pyjamas, or is it... arty? Is this child the next Anne Demeulemeester? Is that child sourcing her looks from Dries Van Noten? Did Rachel Zoe fly over to style these children? Wow, is The Sartorialist around because that puppy PJ top is crazy wild with that crazy wild bed hair and that crazy half eaten Jatz protruding from her mouth.

And then there are other people's children who no matter what - rain, hail or spaghetti, still look gleaming.

Mine are usually sporting some sort of crumb. Some sort of stain. Or some sort of random accessory in the form of - well a leaf, a Jatz, a rash vest, or a plastic cow. We like to mix things up here.

I've tried stuffing my children in to skinny jeans, but it just seems so mean - hey kids, sit very very still - oh wait, you have to because you can't move! So for now, we've skipped on denim (and who wouldn't want to at the rate the denim industry is going, skinny anyone?).

No matter what, I don't care - as long as my kids are having fun and being kids, that is all that counts. I take heart when I read things like this. Why? Because I am not whipping my kids into submission. Now that is what I call ugly.

Image is via Hooked on Houses, Rachel Zoe in her wardrobe. Mine looks like that too. Exactly like that. Er yeah. And so does the kids dressing up box. Yep uh huh. Believe me. Non? Oh come on, it totes does.

Alice Prep

Before the Doctor and I toddled off to see Tim Burton's 'Alice in Wonderland' we embarked on a couple of weeks research. I wanted him to be prepared that it was going to be a little scary, and I wanted him to have a rough grasp of the storyline.

We researched copies of 'Alice In Wonderland', and given the Doctor's age (4.5) I knew he would lose interest if there were not many images, or if the images were not exciting (hey, I do too).

We bought Helen Oxenbury's beautifully illustrated version and it's held us in good stead with it's beautiful images. Helen's illustrations are so beautiful - inky, lovely line work, a real delight and a springboard for the story. Visually this book appeals to me, and to the Doctor, it's a visual feast, most long sections of copy are broken up with a few illustrations here and there. Each night we've been trying to read a chapter - however we had a spell where we didn't read it at all - and then we've returned to finish it. Every night is special to curl up together - I never read Lewis Carroll's masterpiece as a child, so it's been extra good discovering it together.

We also watched a made for TV version (which sounds so dodgy), which was super fantastico! So good we watched a couple of times. Whoopi Goldberg is hilaire as the Cheshire Cat, Miranda Richardson is hysterical as the Queen of Hearts (you must watch just to hear her say 'awf with their heads!'. It has a spectacular cast (Pete Postlethwaite, Ben Kingsley, Martin Short, Gene Wilder, GENE WILDER!), and is absolutely watchable. Beyond just watchable. It's loveable. It's ownable.

The Doctor and I are mad for everything Alice at the moment, and are always referencing either the film, the book, or the other film. We're crazy like that.

Because That Was Such a Great Idea

Who made the suggestion to move Tiny into a big girl's bed? Who? Raise your hand. Put your hand up and tell me who.

Oh. It was... me.

Whoa nelly. What kind of a weekend has this been?

It's been the kind of weekend when Tiny gets her big girl's bed. And subsequently climbs out of it. Fifty million times.

Saturday heralded a new beginning. The beginning of the end of my sanity, given she was awake until 12:30am getting in and out of her bed, wheeling a trolley around in her bedroom, in half darkness. Until finally I could take it no more. I told her gently it was bed time and she must stay in there. I played with her hair until she fell asleep.

Then she woke up at 3:30am crying. 'What the heck? Where am I? What is this?? A big girl's bed?!' And then woke again at 6:30am which for me is equally as rude as being woken at 3:30am.

Sunday night I hoped for better things to come. She was tired after her night out and about. But as my sister Choc has mentioned before, the girl has stamina.

She was awake again until 12:30am. And even then I think she was playing possum. She came pitter-pattering into our room at 1:30am. I was up and down, up and down like a jack-in-the-box. I tried hard to coax her back into her bed to no avail. She finally settled in our bed, and throughout the night I found her in different positions, including sitting on my head. If I so much as moved, she'd throw a huge spac attack.

I don't so much need a life buoy now as I need a nanny and a really good nap. Without small feet pattering in to see me and sit on my head every ten minutes.

Is it wrong, that right now I'd swap a little siesta with this little donkey for my cheeky mouse of a daughter?

Image found when googling images of a sleeping baby. Et voila - the image I never knew I wanted. A sleeping donkey and a baby. Google, you really are so good to me.

Jean Genie

Today I went shopping for jeans. Sounds fun. Sounds exciting.

And it was.

Right up to the point when I walked in to the store and stood in front of the wall that housed all the different jeans. Skinnies. Super skinnies. Low slung skinnies. Zip-leg skinnies. Straight leg.

Since when did jeans get so darn... skinny?

I liked the relaxed cut of the boyfriend jean, but didn't rock them myself, they just didn't seem to suit me at the time.

I like Kate Moss' grey jeans, but can never find the right hue or cut.

And the last time I bought jeans was about two years ago, when I found my very favourite Wranglers that I have worn day in, day out, and are now on the cusp of becoming paper thin. My bottom is also in peril of popping out of said jeans, in a public place near you.

The assistant came over and asked me if I'd like help. Yes please. I'd like help understanding the difference between skinnies. Super skinnies. Low slung skinnies. Zip-leg skinnies. Straight leg. And where exactly were my beloved bootcuts? Not exactly cutting edge hardcore fashion, but my favourites nonetheless. They balance out my hips and proportion with a gentle persuasion of.. denim.

Then the assistant summed up with 'Oh I gave these jeans to my Mum and she really loved them.' Here was a 20-something girl trying to sell me jeans by telling me her mother liked them. Hey sister - wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I may be a mother. I may have two children. I may be on the wrong side of my 20s. But I am not your mother. I do not strive to look - ACK - mumsie.

I tried on three pairs. That's all the enthusiasm I could muster for these achingly cool skinny cut jeans. It's all I had in me. I tried them on and pulled them back off double-time and folded them neatly to be returned to the assistant. Then I strode out of there.

Just because I am not a teenager does not mean I don't want cool jeans. If you prick us, do we not bleed?

If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you wedge us into spray on jeans do we not want to curl up die in the foetal position?

I might have been on the brink of a mid-life crisis right there in that shop. I stormed off from my little family, heading back to the car. Thankfully I got detoured and wound up in the next store and I found a woman who nurtured me, we chatted about kids, I tried on some jeans. I wasn't freaked out. I wasn't about to start rocking backwards and forwards. She got me a t-shirt that would work with said jeans. She made a sale, and also made me happy.

I might have been borderline crisis-lady but that lady saved me. She redeemed our shopping trip. I am not a huge fan of shopping, but when I need to buy something, it has to be done. Does shopping ever send you into a frenzy?

PS - Pic is of the original Jean Genie - David Bowie.