The Tale of The Tantrum

Tiny is in a whirlwind of tantrums. It's not that she's themed herself for Halloween, it's just that she's in the mood to be feral. Really, really feral.

It's. Zapping. My. Will. To. Live.

I feel treacherous and like a big traitor, but I have to tell you, I can't cope with the constancy of the curdling screams.

And if I say something a little terse to her, she instantly cries "Daddy, daddy", or vice versa. It's doing my head in.

I need a lobotomy or a bottle in front of me.

If only someone could tell me how long this is going to last because it feels like it's going to be forever and it's playing with me.

I think it's the sleep deprivation coupled with acute (not cute) feralness. She comes into our bed around 2am, and I am so tired I just can't take her back, and have fallen into an ugly rut of bad sleep. It's messing with me. I'm in a really bad mood. I don't want to hang tough with anyone. In the words of Greta Garbo - I want to be alone.

I don't know where that image is from. Too tired. Sorry.

Mandatory Viewing

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away (read: five years ago) I used to sit at work, and every day I would play this song because it made me laugh.

In fact, I think I may have actually sung it really badly and tap danced to it for Matt. I am nothing, if not impressive when doing bad tap dancing.

I've dug it up out of the archives to share. Because I care. You must watch it. Compulsory viewing for PMM viewers.

Hey Kids, It's Halloweeeeeeen!

The Doctor has a bit of a fascination with Halloween. Or 'alloween as he calls it. He told me he wants to dress up as a warlock on Sunday. Then, since I didn't know exactly what a warlock was, he decided on a policeman. A space policeman. The Doctor's fascination all began when he saw Biz Markie on Yo Gabba Gabba doing the Halloween beat of the day.

We're not so into Halloween in our house, but the Doctor has already told me how we're to dress our house (for the record, wool as a web, spiders in the wool), how he's going to dress, and that Matt is taking him trick or treating (Matt doesn't know this yet).

Once when I was 11, I went trick or treating with my friends. My wig fell off, I put it back on, and got an ant in my ear, and had to go to the doctor (not to be confused with the Doctor) to have it removed. End of trick or treating for me. It's a true story peeps. Clearly it's left a strong memory with me.

Thursday. And It Goes All Day.

Right now at PMM HQ Tiny is being feisty. And loud. And a little bit cross. Actually, really cross. On Monday we were at a cafe. A couple moved away from their table, very quickly, with their glasses and cutlery in hand when Tiny started bellowing.

Usually it doesn't worry me. I can ride it out. But that day I got a bit teary and wanted to disappear.

I am hoping that when she turns three in December she'll magically be out of the terrible twos. David Copperfield can be my homeboy if it happens.

But right now, she's acting as the ultimate contraceptive.

And Then It Was Wednesday

Hello friends, it is I, super mummy, sent to save the dayfromturningintoThursdayalready.

I played hookie yesterday and didn't front up for my blog. Sorry folks. Yowser. Life got in the way of the show going on.

I took the Doctor to his school kindy orientation. I felt a bit sad. Then the Doctor asked me if he could go to a school that he would only have to attend four days a week. Then we chatted. Then I shopped for fruit and veg. I went for a walk to the park with my wee family. I pretended I was a Squid Brother at the park. I pretended I was a policeman on a police-issued scooter at the park. I went on the slide. I went on the swing. I walked home from the park with a naked almost-three year old. Yeah. Uh huh. Almost naked except for a nappy and a pair of pink sandals. It's all the rage for the under 3 set.

I am pretty exciting, yes?

What's on the haps in your 'hood?

Why Hello There!

I never reported back and told you that the Doctor was accepted into the out-of-area school we applied for. Yep. I had an interview with the principal. It was, to me, more nerve-wracking than a job interview. Tomorrow we go for Kindergarten Orientation, which is both exciting and a little sad. It's a bittersweet symphony.

Today is a jolly good day folks. Not only is it my sisters birthday - HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA! but one of my best, and long-time friends gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

Me, being crazy like a fox, commenced sewing just a few short hours after I learnt this awesome and exciting news. I'll show some pics when I have got more than a couple of pieces sewn together, but oh baby, it's PINKalicious.

Winners (courtesy of the Random Number Generator) of the Lego DUPLO are:

- 9 - Two Tuesdays

- 5 - Spectacular Fairy Wren

- 18 - Jovana

I tried to do a screen grab but of course Blogger won't come to the party.

Please email me with your name, address, and mobile number! Thanks to everyone for entering.

Interview:: Glendyn Ivin

If you're loving 'Offspring', then you have to give credit to director Glendyn Ivin. He's directed episodes eight and nine (last week and this week), and here he gives some insights into his life as a director/filmmaker/photographer on the rise.

Father to two, husband to one, director of many and sure to be many more, he won the Palme D'or at Cannes in 2003 for his short film Cracker Bag, and last year released his debut feature length film Last Ride (a beautiful and memorable film).

PMM - You've just finished working on (Ten's) Offspring - what were some of the highlights?

I had never had any real interest in directing series TV. But after making 'Last Ride' I was keen to explore other territory. The light-hearted romantic comedy of 'Offspring' seemed like a challenge and a response to the hard drama I am naturally drawn towards. I had also worked with some of the cast before so it was an easy decision in the end. The cast is really amazing, and the producers gave me their trust, so even though it was not typically my style of story telling, I felt I could learn something new while still leaving my fingerprints on it.

Asher Keddie is a dream to work with. She is an actor who is truly focused on giving her best. She worked close to seven days a week, for five months making the first series of 'Offspring', yet she managed to make every day fresh and full of energy.

What made you want to go into directing?

I was always drawn to film-making and photography. When I was in high school there was no 'media' class, but I was obsessed with the video cameras. I would take the clunky VHS camera out at lunch time and just film my friends for hours. I had no real reason to do it, I just felt compelled.

I distinctly remember when I first edited two pieces of footage together. It was like an epiphany, I saw how two random images could take on a whole new meaning.

I'm still fascinated by that process now, I get really excited by it. There is always something new to learn and explore. I feel very lucky doing what I do. In many ways I'm still a kid filming my friends at lunchtime.

You have a young family - how do you balance a busy work schedule with family life?

I'm sure like any parent who loves the work they do, it's very hard to strike a balance between work and home. I work long hours, and even when I am at home there is always a phone call to take, an email to respond to and more work to be squeezed in after midnight. I'm sure it's a familiar story for many. There is always an excuse to be doing something other than being present with the family. I'm sure a lot of parents who really love what they do have the same problem. I have to be really conscious to make time and take time out, which is always easier said than do, (hence I am writing this as my daughter Rosebud (3yo) is calling me to watch her ride her pretend horse). But I find if I don't, home life isn't as fun and relaxing as it can be.

It helps that I have an absolute super wife, who is very understanding and supportive of me and my work. She is a super mum.

Do you think having kids has changed the way you make films?

It definitely changed the way I made my feature film Last Ride. It's a film about a pretty intense father/son relationship. When I first read the script I could read as a son, but also as I was a new father I could see it from the father's perspective as well.

Having children opens you up to a lot of different experiences and a whole new range of emotions. It helps you put things into perspective, to see the world differently. All these things can be beneficial to being a filmmaker, as being a director is about having your own perspective or take on the world.

What's coming up for you?

I'm working on my next films. 'Cherry Bomb' is a little like 'Puberty Blues' meets 'Bonnie & Clyde' and a horror film based on the book 'One Foot Wrong'.

I also make TV commercials and the call of the TV series is going to be there from now on as well.

I'm also working on planning a photographic exhibition for 2011.

Inspiration?

I find inspiration everywhere. From flicking through high fashion magazines to riding public transport and looking and listening to conversations. I like to find clues and ideas in and amongst real life.

I look at a ton of photographs. Online and in books. I find still images to be just as inspiring if not more than moving images.

I'm also obsessed with music. It helps me focus and relax. I actually think I'm a filmmaker, because I'm not a musician.

A completely random fact we should(n't) know about you?

I have the scariest addiction to talk back radio. It drives my wife Natalie nuts!

****

To read more about Glendyn and his projects head to his website Hoaxville.

All images courtesy of Glendyn Ivin.

Oh No! It's A Camel Toe!

Yesterday I was witness to a tragedy.

Yesterday I was scarred for life.

Yesterday I saw a camel toe to rival all camel toes.

Seriously. A HUGE camel toe. Which I couldn't stop looking at and marvelling at how uncomfortable said camel toe must be.

I'm sorry gals, but sometimes it's best to buy a size up. Or rearrange things so that you do not have a camel toe that I need to keep looking at and snickering (but buy a size up - trust me on this!). Even Matt was giggling. A camel toe of epic proportions.

Please ladies, guard against the camel toe. Be prepared. No one wants to see your camel toe. No one. Be vigilant. Be alert. Your camel toe needs you.

image via

My Own Private Hairdresser

Sometimes when life is frustrating - I cut my own hair.

With very poor results.

I have done this a few times, with, in fact, disastrous results.

I cut my hair off from below my shoulders to chin length, no actually cheek length, once. It was when a boyfriend-of-the-time cast me off in favour of a French girl. I don't know why I felt the urge, but I took the scissors to my hair, Jennifer Aniston style, and sliced it off. If you've ever cut your own hair you will be well familiar with that awesome noise of the scissors crunching through hair. I could almost cut my hair off now just to hear it. It's reassuring. It's life affirming. And I'm sure I really showed that boyfriend who was boss (actually he was overseas when he decided to split with me via email - so he never knew the vengeance with which I cut my hair).

Anyway. My hair was a disaster. QUELLE HORREUR!

So I booked a professional to cut my hair.

Let's call him 'Richard'. Richard came and cut my hair at my house. It was awesome. I liked having someone come to my house to cut my hair. Like I was a geriatric in stilettos.

'Richard' cut my hair, asked whether there was any method to my hair cutting (answer: heck no), styled it, blow dried it, and then we looked in the mirror together. Imagine my HORREUR when I saw that I looked like Princess Di. I'm not kidding peeps. I looked like Princess Di, or I looked like I lived in Double Bay, sans fake tan and bleach.

When one looks at oneself in the mirror post-haircut, one is expected to rave about one's new 'do.

Me?

I piped up with "It might look better when I wash it."

It was only in hindsight that I thought how offensive that statement was to a professional hair stylist. Yes. It will look better when I, the hacker, wash my own hair, and refuse to blow dry it because I do not blow dry my own hair. Someone else does it once every two months.

I'm not sure what prompted me to recall this epic tale of War and Peace proportions, but I am sure you are mighty relieved I did. So 'fess up. Have you ever cut your own hair?

Little Swimmers. Not THOSE Little Swimmers.

We've started back at swimming just in time for it to get cold once more. Cold and rainy. Perfect swimming weather really. If you're English.

Tiny has been particularly excited by this foray back into the water. She has to wait half an hour while the Doctor does his lesson. Fifteen minutes into the Doctor's lesson she asks if she can get ready. Which she can. And then minute-by-minute she asked "Is it my turn yet?"

Whenever the Doctor would do anything good she'd give him a tiny little two thumbs up.

That little almost-three year old kills me. She's pretty fly. She gives me cute attacks daily. Twice daily. Thrice daily. Sometimes even more. Mostly more actually. Ok I'll stop now. The end.

Lego + Sunshine + Sydney = A GIVEAWAY!

If you're a Sydney-sider or visiting Sydney this weekend - well you're in luck!

As part of the Sydney Architecture Festival, and to celebrate their 40th anniversary Lego DUPLO have built a wee little house for the smalls to play within. How cute is that?

It's open Friday 22nd, Saturday 23rd, Sunday 24th (9-5pm), it's free and it's on the forecourt of Sydney's Custom House. I'll be there fo' shizzle. The Doctor has already eyed it off and declared that we're there! Will you?

And for everyone else* (and of course Sydney readers too), I have the sweetest of spoils to giveaway.

Leave a comment here before Monday (25th) 8pm (EST) and tell me what you'd make out of Lego DUPLO, and you'll go into the draw to win one of three Lego DUPLO Large Brick Boxes valued at $49.99. It's a great starter kit that provides unlimited creative fun!

* Sorry - Australian readers only!

* 3 winners will be drawn at random.

EDIT: I have extended the giveaway to close on Monday 25th at 8pm.

Guilty As Charged: A Very Messy Handbag

I know. Lock me up and throw away the key, for I have sinned.

My handbag is a mess. A right royal mess. It contains, in no particular order:

- my wallet

- my sunglasses sans case

- random business cards

- random receipts

- my beauty bag

- beauty products that have become separated from their bag

- my phone - floating

- my keys

- a notepad

- a pencil

- a pen

- an empty box of Panadol

- an English Breakfast teabag (yes, very random, I have an excuse though - BAD tea at work)

- loose coins (what am I? A bloke?)

- hand cream

- ear phones for my phone

- reading glasses

- keys

- crumbs

- lots of crumbs

What lives in my bag? A mouse? A baby bird perhaps? Why the crumbs?

Thankfully I was recently sent a miracle in the form of a Borne Naked Handbag liner. Seriously good. I've revolutionised my handbag. No more disorganisation in my bag. No more losing my keys. No more crumbs.

And my favourite bit? I change handbags from time to time - and because I am just not that thorough, I usually leave vital pieces in my handbag. And then go to work without my glasses which makes for a squinty day at the office. No more leaving things behind friends. NO MORE!

I'll tell you another awesome sauce facet of the Borne Naked liner. It's clear. So I can see clearly what's in there at a glance. My keys, my glasses, my wallet, my favourite lip gloss - and BOOM! I am out the door. Streamlining peeps. That's what it's all about. Anything that helps me be a little more organised is fabulous by me.

Viva la Borne Naked revolution! A handbag makeover is borne.

I Ain't Strega Nona. Damn It.

Matt and I were given a pasta machine for our engagement. We've never used it. Given we just celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, you do the math. It's been sitting in its box calling me ever since we unwrapped it.

Today I got brave and cracked it open. The Doctor and I got into a bit of pasta making. And a bit more pasta making. It was harder than I thought. No wonder I felt intimidated.

Eggs went everywhere. Flour went everywhere. The dough was so tough. Too tough to knead. But we persevered. Finally I retired the dough. The kids were having more fun feeding it through the machine. Over and over and over again. I felt a bit deflated until I told Tiny to stop adding more flour - and she responded with: "But I have to keep Mastercheffing!" Alrighty then.

Any Italian mamas got the key to being Strega Nona with Big Anthony as my side-kick?

Bloggers Are Not Superheroes

I'm not sitting here with a cape on. Or my big undies over the top of my outfit. Nor do I have any super powers. I'm not saving lives. I'm only saving my sanity. And preserving my memories. That's what blogging is to me. Oh and it's given me a community of other mamas and general all-round ace chicks to communicate with. To high five. To chew the fat. To bounce ideas. And to virtually hang out with.

But I'm not doing anything anyone hasn't done before. I'm parenting. I'm working part-time. I'm wifeing. I'm trying to make ends meet (and those ends seem to move further and further away monthly). I'm juggling and dreaming, hoping, praying, cleaning, cooking, washing, talking, watching, stitching, writing, reading, sleeping, snoozing, cuddling, kissing, sweeping, watering, laughing, smiling, showering, weeing & pooping, walking, driving, looking, sniffing, colouring, avoiding, chasing, weeding, dusting, vacuuming, emailing, SMSing - oh man, I could go on, but you've probably already fallen asleep. WAKE UP!

I'm a woman. Not a superhero. I have no super powers. If I did, I'd give nasty people an electric shock each time they were nasty. BZZZZzzzZZZ!

So why are bloggers seen as the new superhero? Are bloggers the new black?

Not As Funny As Me Forgetting To Pay Rent. Right?!

I spent about a million hours today tidying our house for our real estate agent to come and inspect.

She was meant to be here at 5pm.

At 5:22pm she was still not here.

I called her. She told me she had the flu. OH! And she'd written the appointment in the wrong day. WOOPS!

Now no one can touch anything in the house until she comes tomorrow. Everyone must sleep in the car, or camp, or something other than mess up the house again.

This week visitors are welcome. The house is incredibly tidy.

Don't look in the car.

(I need Peter to come to my house and make me let go of some clothes and well - stuff - that I hang on to. Because I just might need it!)

image via KITKA - how great is that plant wall? Me likey!

A Hair Fetish

Carey Mulligan. You're so cute. I'd polish you and put you on my bedside table. I'd wake up to see you all cute and - well just so darn cute. I'd dig that.

What I'm just loving silly about you and Keira though, both of you are sporting super stylin' short 'dos. Stylish. Chic. Sassy. Look at you. Cute squared. Cute to boot.

I can not wait to see this film. I'll be the one sitting front row, quietly taking in the brilliant hair. Ok well it not be brilliant red carpet hair, but it's good hair nonetheless. I don't think Keira has ever had a bad hair day. Or minute.

Date-a-rama

I have snuck off. While Matt's reading in bed, I am sneaking in some time on the computer-tutor. I am some book-ish nerd, only with computers. It's the zing and the zap that gets me.

We're just back from a night out for dinner and a meander through our very favourite of all time, ever and ever and ever and then some book store, Ariel. If I was flush to the gills with cash-a-roo I would go absolutely berko in that book shop. As it is, I bought some Haigh's frogs for my lover and a funny little card. They have the very best selection of cards.

We had dinner at Fratelli Fresh Sopra. It is very, very good friends. I recommend everything on the menu. But not all at once. Tonight I had parmesan encrusted chicken, a side of brocollini with lemon and olive oil. For dessert, chocolate and hazelnut praline semi-freddo. A cappuccino tipped me over the edge and I had to make a fast getaway to grab some fresh air.

This time five years ago we were enjoying our first night as a married couple. Tomorrow we would be travelling to Byron Bay for our honeymoon, with our sweet little five month old firstborn snuggled in close to us.

Man I love the love.

I Sleep. And I Sleep Like A Log.

Since starting my new job, I sleep like a dead donkey. Seriously. Nothing can rouse me. Except a small child calling "Mama, mama." Nothing can raise me! Nothing.

An old flatmate used to go out late and come home early the next morning. Like 6am early. An Irish friend of hers taught her the adage, "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Alas, I am not of that ilk. If I was out on the turps and caught sight of the time, and it happened to be beyond one or two in the AM, I was outta there - I was like Cinderella. I hated the thought of messing up the day ahead and being Crankelstiltskin because I hadn't had enough beauty sleep.

I love me some sleepytime.

Looking Forward

I have gots to tell you folks, I am so looking forward to Spring warming up. I am looking forward to Summer too. Not the searing heat, but the holiday vibe that accompanies Summer. That even if you're at work, it feels almost like you're on a holiday because everyone's in a good mood, skin is bared, you're living, you're sneaking off for mid-week jaunts to the beach. You're ALIVE people.

Imagine my disappointment when this shift in weather flung us back into chilly-billy weather.

I love layering and all. But I was looking forward to pulling out my scanty Summery things, people.

Yet the weather is just not ready. The crepe myrtle is leafing up beautifully. That is one of those things I love about our new abode. The crepe myrtle, and the small magnolia right in our front door. Big fat azalias that have finished blooming until next year. It's a pretty garden. It's a very small matchbox house, with a lovely old garden that someone loved. I love that.

I am still looking forward to Summer. Though it's playing hard to get. I can't wait to wear my Summer frocks and sandals. Dip my toes in the ocean. Play in the sunshine. Lie in the grass and read books with my small fry.

And because I am in the mood for lurve this week - check out lovely Sophie's sewing for her man. She's so cute I could bottle her.

Five Flipping Years

It's almost our 5th wedding anniversary. I can't believe how quickly that five years has floated by, and yet it has. It's hardly 50 years, but to me, it's still a milestone.

When we first got married I truly thought - Marriage? It's going to be so simple! It's going to be a cinch! Marriage can't be hard!

But it is hard. Not that Matt's a terrible person, Matt's an awesome person. But as with every relationship, every now and then, when things don't go the right way, I have to remind myself that Matt and I are two different people. We love each other, but it doesn't mean we want to do the same things every time. Sometimes I have these revelations when we are butting heads with one another, and I have some time to myself and an almost *cha-ching* moment, and I think, hey Lexi - back off, he's not part of you. You're married, but you're not a two-headed monster. I mean that would just be Wrongtown.

Back to 5th wedding anniversary. It's wood. That sounds almost Wrongtown on it's own. What does one give a man that's wood? (Ok, keep the suggestions CLEAN!). Wooden spoon? A ticket to Huon Valley in Tasmania so I can brainwash Matt into letting us finally move there?!

Help a gal out. Got any genius ideas that I can present my Mr with on Friday?

Go West My Friend!

Today, besides sharing some funny little tidbits from home life, I'm sending you to other places.

Firstly, my funny little tidbits.

The Doctor asked Tiny the other day if he could inspect her ear lobes to see if she has holes for earrings. (I think he thinks you are born with them). For the record, she doesn't.

The Doctor has also been hoarding all the toy catalogues. He then cuts out the pictures and carries them around. Everywhere. I've finally convinced him to stick them into a book, since he went walking with Matt, dropped half of them, and spent the walk home discovering his cut-outs strewn across the footpaths, Hansel and Gretel stylie.

But like I said, go west, go discover some other blogs:


The effervescent Toni at Little Suitcase is rocking Frocktober. Maybe you can donate a pretty penny or two to raise funds for ovarian cancer research?

Head over to say hi to Alexis at Knot Sew Crafty - and check out this super ace clip! She always has the good stuff!

Hayley at Little Pinwheel has been writing about raw mum moments this week - in the interests of dissolving the mystical 'perfect' parenting idea - these are beautiful, heartfelt posts

Ever wondered what happened to the two Kris'? Well clearly I did.

image from Toni's blog.

Michelle Williams Love

My love for Michelle Williams continues. Look at her as Marilyn Monroe. Amazing. She is incredible.

Smell Like A Monster

Anything is possible.

Stigma Number Four:: Breast Check

The other day I had to go to my GP for a regular check up. And to get her to freeze a stubborn plantar wart. Again.

While I was there she asked if I checked my breasts regularly.

I laughed.

I mean, I know I shouldn't have laughed. I am fully aware of that. But I am complacent.

I explained to her that because I am lacking in the breast department, I tend not to routinely check my breasts - because if there isn't anything there, then how can anything else be there? I concluded my weak argument with the fact that, despite my complacency, I realised I really should be checking my breasts regularly.

She conducted the exam, and then said "Yes, I see - I'm feeling more rib cage than breast tissue." What a cruel way to reiterate that my boobies are lacking! But I did laugh.

Anyway, the crux of today's story is this. Check your breasts. Monthly. Make it a ritual. Too many women discover too late that they have breast cancer. Cancer sucks.

Click here to go through to check out the array of how-tos on YouTube.

And if in doubt - go to your GP. If there's something not quite right - get it checked out.

Books:: Cocktails At Naptime

When a fresh copy of Cocktails at Naptime hit my mailbox, I have to tell you. I was excited. I mean, I tell you I've been reading this, but I've been struggling through it. It's interesting and all, but give me some laughs. There are no laughs to be had with toxic plastic. I'll tell you that now.

But what happened when Cocktails at Naptime sat on the kitchen table unattended? Matt picked it up, looked at the chapters listed, immediately turned to Chapter 3 and commenced reading.

Chapter 3? - I hear you ask.

Chapter 3 = Sex and the stretchy girl. Chapter 3 is all about sex after childbirth. Clearly Matt cuts straight to the chase, there's no small talk for him. Chapter 3 and BOOM! He's into it.

But that's Matt. I take a more orthodox approach to my reading. No cheating by flicking to the last page. Nope. I start at the intro and meander my way through books. In this particular instance, I kept going and going and going. I love a page turner. I adore a funny page turner.

The clever authors of Cocktails at Naptime, Gillian and Emma, have created a tome that's honest, endearing and witty. It should be bedtime material pre-birth. Mandatory Maternity Book List. That's what it is. It gives a real look at what's going to happen to you, including your punani, your boobies and your life. For me, as a mama to a 5 and 2.9 year old, it's a very humorous glance backwards - wishing that I had this to help navigate through those tired, achy, lonely first few weeks/months of mothering.

Cocktails at Naptime. I rate it! I rate it highly folks!

You can read more about their adventures as bloggers/authors (who coincidentally live in different countries and met via the interwebz) here.

Poop Du Jour

So I've been hanging out ALL FLIPPING DAY for Offspring.

Instead it's Commonwealth Games.

Imagine how bitter I am feeling. I was ready. Sitting on the couch with the wee patch. Ready with tea and water in hand(s).

Painful. Channel Ten - I shake my fist at you! I might even be foaming at the mouth. Get a vaccination fast programmer, I'm after you.

PottyMouthMama: Where The Bloody Hell Are You?

I've started fifty million different posts this weekend. And then got disenchanted with each and left them writhing in boredom in my drafts.

Lucky them.

This weekend is a bit haphazard. Matt's studying, so I'm parenting solo just for the day. And it just happened to coincide with the commencement of toilet training for Tiny. This climaxed today, while at the library, when Tiny was sitting in a (thankfully) vinyl beanbag. Lucky for me (and her) I had a spare change of clothes. What was I thinking hauling Tiny out on her debut of new knickers? I don't know peeps, but if I had to hang for much longer in our messy home, I would have done some damage to the dishpig aka the dishwasher. We've been searching for swimmers for the Doctor. I've been tidying and re-organising our bedroom. I've been washing. I've been doing a whole lotta boring stuff. I am inspiring, non?

Here are some random facts about me:

Reading - Slow Death by Rubber Duck: Rick Smith/Bruce Lourie
Have you read this book? It's pretty intense. And insane what we humans have created in our bid to 'improve' things. We're just killing ourselves. Classy.

+ simultaneously reading: Naturally Better Kids: Written by a Melbourne mama, Kristen Morrison, this book is inspiring, amazing, and just bloody awesome. I'll write more about this later in the week. And you can click over and read more about Kristen. She's intelligent and a beautiful mama - I just can't say enough good things about her.

Watching - Offspring. This is the only thing I am watching religiously. It's one of the best Australian programs I've seen since 'Love My Way'. And Don Hany? PHWOAR. And Asher Keddie? Delightfully mesmerising and goofy. She is D to the VINE!

Eating - (too much of) this new Cadbury Bar of Plenty - I've tried both the Berry & Shortcake and Roast Hazelnuts and Honey Roast Cashews. I have to tell you, I am nutty for the nuts. But I should go to some sort of rehab for chocolate addicts. I hear Betty Crocker's Rehab is particularly good?

Listening - Lady of the Sunshine - Angus Stone's 'solo' album. Beautiful.

What has kept you busy this weekend?

The Ultimate Stress Relief

My new job is going well. Except for the fact I need stress relief.

But I found it. Shooting the Doctor's Nerf gun of an evening does wonders for one's blood pressure.

Next thing you know I'll be hooking up with Charlton Heston and visiting shooting ranges on weekends. Let's never make that happen.

Hit me up with your stress relief ideas, puh-lease?

PS - This beefcake appears to like the Nerf as a stress relief too. After one too many chin ups he likes to take aim and pop off. Oh no. I just went to Wrongtown. Postcode unknown.

PPS - His cleavage is impressively larger than mine. Not difficult. But do take note.

Are You There Reader? It's Me. PottyMouthMama.

I didn't end up getting my hair cut. But I did get my hair cut. I'm growing my hair back long and strong. But it was in a haphazard, frumpette and the frumps stage, and I couldn't hack it. So I took my head to the hairdresser, half tempted to hack it (off) a la Michelle Williams or Emma Watson. Chickened out. Had a $90 trim instead. I think the sum total of hair loss for that day was equivalent to two strands, but there you have it. I got diddled and I do believe my hair was exponentially better when I walked in to when I walked out. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say I was having one of the best hair days of my life. And then my hairdresser messed with it.

Anyhooooo - I digress. Hordes of readers (actually, just two or three) have asked about my new profile pic.

Ladiez, this is where my lust for the undercut began.

You like it. You want it. You have to have it. You dig? Well I do. I still have undercut lust. It's not to be satiated though. I know the pain I must go through to grow that sucker out. Been there (well, at least have completely shaved my head two or three times) - done that. All over red rover. Or is it?

Look at Riri. She is surely the hottest thing since sliced bread.

And Thanks For a Great Holiday

This afternoon we arrived home from a long weekend at my Mum and Dad's.

It was hectic. Crazy. Frenetic. But we had fun, and all our wee cousins - all seven of them, full to the brim with enthusiasm and excitement carried on for the whole weekend. Whoa Nelly! But there is nothing comparable to being small, hanging with your cousins, having fun, causing a bit of mallarky, and ending the day completely cream crackered passed out in your bed. Do you remember that excitement?

Alas I have NO pictures. My camera didn't even make it out of my handbag because:

a) the batteries were on the brink of dying

and

b) it feels like the weekend went by in a complete blur and I never felt there really was a chance to photograph the craziness.

They are my lame, tres lazy excuses and I stand by them. Capiche?

So we arrived home, it was a long weekend as daylight savings is now upon us, and on putting the smalls (finally) to bed - Matt said to the Doctor - "Good night and thanks for a great holiday."

The reply?

"Yes. It should be thanks to me. It was my idea."

Had any great ideas lately that I should know about? Hit me up.

photo absolutely unrelated. But on another family outing to the ZigZag Railway. Forever ago.

Holy To The Smokes

My littlies have gone up to my parent's house for two nights. It's the first time I have spent time way from them like this. I got home to an empty, quiet house and Matt. Then together we stumbled through the evening. We thought we'd go to a movie. But nope. Unless we were primed for an 11:10am or 5:32pm screening, we were out of luck.

Thankfully we found a movie to go to. Not what we were after - but anything. A mercy movie. Which turned out to be a really funny movie and a nice impromptu night out together.

Have you seen The Other Guys?

When we walked in, we were a little late. We were being SPONTANEOUS! LASTMINUTE.COM! WE'RE CRAZY! What could be crazier than an impulsive date!? So I thought, oh no, I've brought us to the wrong movie - this is not what I thought it was going to be like. But dudes, it is totes funny. I am a mad keen Will Ferrell fan. I regularly bring Will Ferrell DVDs home, much to Matt's bewilderment. Some are good. Some are not so good. But Will Ferrell and I are kindred spirits. Just like Anne of Green Gables and Gilbert Bligh.

And yowser - Eva Mendes is HAWT! Look at her. Man she is amazing. PHWOAR-A-LICIOUS!

Shall I give a star rating? Yes I think I will. I'll go for FOUR STARS! It was the perfect remedy to feeling forlorn about our small fry being away.

And if you don't think this movie is for you, well this might just be right up your alley.