Spontaneous! Crazy!

Once Matt got home from work last night we were busting to go for a walk.

I'd spent the day moving large pieces of furniture from one part of the house to another. My muscles were preparing to ache. I scratched the floor in my haste to move everything before Matt got home. Don't tell the landlord. Good news is that we no longer have a wardrobe sitting in our living room. I know you'll be impressed with my rabid doggedness and beefcakey-ness.

And how about the sunshine? We sucked up the very last rays before the darkness moved in for the night. The Doctor enjoyed a twilight scooter, while Tiny was rugged up in the pram. She's sick as a frog and lost her voice. Oh the shame. No screaming. Priceless.

And Then There's Gotye

And how about those green eyes?

With beautiful Kimbra.

Wowsers.

Love the Peter Gabriel-esque sounds. And I listen to this over and over too. Much to the disgust of my workmates.

Really Pretty

I'm into finding new music at the moment. When I was on the plane the other day, music was my salvation, I start to go a bit batty, and it very much effects my mood. I gots to find me some new tunes.


What are you listening to right this very minute?

She's Funny

Last night I asked Tiny to go to bed after she came back out into the living room for the 73rd time.

Her reply?

"But I don't have a yawn! I don't have a yawn in my mouth. I'm not tired. And I don't need to go to sleep because I don't have a yawn."

She's a clever cookie.

Didn't stop me from putting her back into bed though.

I Like It. But I Don't Want It.

Oooh I love Dakota Fanning's new 'do. And I like her fish-face too.

I love the pixie do. The Mia Farrow. The 'Breathless' Jean Seberg crop. The waif. Oh man, I do so love it.

But I've hit my stride. My hair's getting long. I'm liking it. I'm out of the woods. But Dakota's new 'do... Oh yes. I like it. But it doesn't mean I want it.

Seen This?

Pretty rad. So much musical talent amidst the architecture of the Sydney Opera House. And the interiors star as much as the iconic sails. Love.

So. I'm Back.

I'm back from my brief hiatus, back into the thick of Winter. What a drag! I'm over Winter - move on please.

I think I owe you an explanation as to why blogging has been so sporadic, and poor.

Work is super duper busy at the moment, and couple that with family life, I'm not coping very well! The juggle - it ain't juggling. Everything's up in the air and coming down and landing in my face.

But I'm ok. I've just become a bit of a hermit.

So I haven't properly started Back In The Habit - but I've not forgotten about it. It's coming, promise.

I've also got to tell you that despite the fact I was working while I was in Hamilton Island, it was so, so good for me! Do you know how much I enjoyed sleeping in a bed: all to myself?! Luxury! And no one walked in on me in the bathroom, or asked for me to do something when I was in the middle of a shower? Amazeballs.

I was excited to come home to my little peeps (and big man-child) - while being super tired. Life is beautiful.

Aloha!

I could so easily get used to island life. Surely I can get a job driving golf buggies around by day, hula dancing by night.

Someone - give a girl a break.

Have bikini. Will travel.

(PS - I'm here working. Yes. Hard life, I know.)

I'm On The Beach

I'm on Hamilton Island. Don't expect me back anytime soon. Has anyone ever mentioned how good sand, sunshine and the sea is for you. Dr PottyMouthMama recommends it - 100 per cent.

Anyway - I'm here, you're there. I got tackled in the sand. I went go-karting. I went swimming. I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Because that's the way I roll.

Tiny In The Rain

Tiny's stripey legs under this umbrella. Too darn cute. Such a great little brolly for her, she's almost encased - but can still see where she's heading.

This week, I'm grateful for my dryer. Yes. I don't usually praise electrical appliances, but this week, the dryer has done me proud.

A Weird (& Wet) Week

I've had one of those uber weeks when everything's larger than life, and more than you can bear. But it's over! It's Friday night! Halleluljah! I made it to the weekend in tact! I still have bruises on my knees, but who cares, because it's Winter and it's raining, and it's raining cats, dogs, squirrels and frogs, and if I'm not wearing jeans, I'm definitely wearing tights and boots.

Tiny had to come into my work today. Just for a wee while. She loved it. She drew on the whiteboard. She played with Cara's hair and stroked Cara's face. Cara, are you ok with that?

She hid in a little castle that some of the girls constructed for her. She coloured in.

And when we left, she exclaimed about a rather large rock in the carpark and told me it was "where the dinosauruses live" and then said she wanted to come back to Mama's work.

If only all work days were like this.

I've Got A New Career

I've made an executive decision that I need to be like Milli Vanilli. Someone else can do the singing. I get to do the power moves, wear the lycra and get the camel toe. If anyone can sing and wants me as stunt double, I'm available for hire.

We're (Re)Living The Dream

Last night was so good for the soul!

So good.

Matt and I guffawed our way through the movie. Oh man. It's so funny. And silly. And there's Jon Hamm. And there's the hot Chris O'Dowd from The I.T. Crowd. And by the way - did I mention it's funny.

We've been reliving it today, recounting scenes to one another. Steamy undercarriages and all.

I love date night. I wish we had date night more often and consistently than we do. It was exactly what I needed to just hang out.

Rose Byrne was hilaire. I loved Rebel Wilson.

And after the movie, we went for a tres romantique dinner at McDonalds. Classy. Yep. We go to all the great places around town.

It's DATE NIGHT!

I'm beside myself excited because after an uber crummy week, we're heading out on a date.

Just Matt and I.

I've had such a crap last few days that I think I've cried every single day. I think the supermarket incident just tipped me over the edge, and I'm sporting some really pretty bruises from that too.

So we're going out to see Bridesmaids. My choice. I need a big belly ache. Seen it? Magic or tragic?

Nina! Nina! Nina!

ACK NINA! What are you doing?!

Do you love Offspring even half as much as I do?

AHHHH NINA!

Day 2:: Up In Flames

Day 2 is up in flames. I've fallen off the wagon without being on the wagon. But I have a disclaimer.

I was rushing home for dinner, went to the supermarket after picking up some wine, slipped over on the supermarket floor, hurt my hands and knees, got the milk, felt teary, went to the register where I had to listen to the checkout chick rave on and on about banana chillis, and how she couldn't scan them, and then re-scan them, oh and then scan them again. I just wanted to get home, the woman in front of me told me my wine was leaking, I said, yes I know, look down, I'm covered in wine - there's a puddle of wine. Take the wine bottle over to the bin, just as it explodes all over me, walk back to the register to get the milk - but go past customer service to ask them if they could clean up the mess, burst into tears, stand at the register while this check out chick is still banging on about bananas chillis and the fact that she's been sneezing and coughing. I'm covered in wine. I'm blubbering at the counter. And all she can say is: "Do you want a bag?" Well of course I want a damn bag, there's clearly too much to carry.

Pay. Leave. Hurt.

But this man has 82 Julia Roberts tattoos. That's something. Right?

Tess of the D'Aggervilles:: Day 1

So it's day 1 of Back In The Habit. I went walking. I took my iPod and it ran out of batts after one song. Great preparation on my behalf.

And I totes looked like a complete dag-o-rama in my get up.

I've long thought about exercising VS fashion. And wondered this very point:

If you wear great exercise gear, does it make you more prone to enjoying exercising? So me wearing uber daggy trackies that skim my ankles, and just looking like I rolled out of a jersey workshop, does this impede my ability to enjoy exercise?

Would I enjoy exercise if I invested in my exercise wardrobe? I'm not talking decking myself out in latest and greatest from Stella McCartney's Adidas range, but if I made more of an effort to look good would I feel good?

So Day 1 of Back In The Habit has me asking some really big First World Questions. What's the answer dear reader? Invest in some quality spandex? Or should I keep walking the moors like Tess of the D'Aggervilles in my baggy trackies that are too short?

I want Janelle Monae's hair. And her style. I want to get her dance on. She's pretty cool and cute. Stylish and sassy. Me likey!

image via

My New BFF

If you're friends with me on Twitter, you know I'm a crazy Masterchef fan.

Oh Georgie, I'm sorry I made you have 4 different photos with me. And that I look like a 1920s serial killer. But it's nice that you liked my jacket. Thank you.

I'm In A Bad Mood

I need to watch this film. Pronto.

A Really Good Sandwich. And A Funny Makeover.

So guess what. Tiny got into my make-up again yesterday. Yes. Yes. I know I've already been told to put my stuff up out of reach. In theory this would work. In reality, I'd have to put pretty well the whole house up out of reach, or alternatively put Tiny into a straitjacket, and I just don't think she'd be into that. And life doesn't work when things are all up out of reach. Unless you use stilts every single day.

And am I in Cirque de Soleil? Nope. Can't even spin a hula hoop on my hips.

So here I present to you, Tiny's new look. Considerably less Emo than the last look. She's gone for a pink lip and hot pink cheeks. That girl's onto something.

PS I had a really great sandwich on the run today from Sonoma. They can do no bad in my book. Y to the UM!

The Wash Up

Do you have arguments in your home about who's doing the washing up?

It's an almost nightly ritual in our house.

We skirt around it, skirt around it, and then finally someone gives in and does it. We have no routine when it comes to the dishes. We hate the dishes. And I'm sure the dishes do not love us.

Or do they?

Finish very kindly sent me the ingredients and baking pan to make some brownies. Now this is two months ago. Maybe three. It was Easter. I was tired. I heard the call of chocolate and I went to work whipping up le brownies. Only thing was, I only had half a brain working. I whipped them up, put them into the oven, and mid-bake, I marvelled at the layer of butter on the top of the brownies. As though I was deep-frying the damn brownies. I walked away, thinking how curious this brownie batter was. Finally it dawned on me, while I was only working on half a brain, I'd inadvertently doubled the butter mixture, and as a result totally messed up the freaking recipe. What a waste of perfectly delectable chocolatey goodness. *cue forehead slap*

What an idiot! *cue another forehead slap!*

Cue Finish Powerball Tablets 5 in 1. I like these. They work. They mean I don't have to squabble so much with Matt about who's doing the dishes.

image via Emma Elizabeth Designs - I could just about die for this Emma Elizabeth rug (who doesn't love sparkle?) From Milan to my house. Rug-a-licious.

Park Life

We three braved the big chill today and spent part of the morning at the park. A rare treat, given that Mondays - my day off, are usually spent sans children. I loved spending the time with them spinning, sliding, climbing and swinging.

Next school holidays I'm going to organise some time off so I can hang out with them more. I really miss my babies. Even if we don't go away, a stay-cation is definitely in order!

Also - let's kick off Back In the Habit next Monday. I'm not ready yet peeps!

A Tiny Makeover

Tiny and my make-up do not mix.

This morning was no exception.

It started off like any other Sunday morning. Full of sunshine and promise.

This ended rapidly after I'd painted Tiny's nails for her - with my nail polish I received as part of my birthday present. Which I hadn't used. She got peeved with the Doctor and threw the bottle on the ground. It smashed to a kazillion pieces spattering pink nail polish all over the floor. All over the Doctor. All over the Doctor's favourite t-shirt, new jeans and socks. All over the Doctor's Beyblades.

To tell you I wasn't impressed is a gross understatement. It's a big, fat, disgusting understatement. It's a HUUUUUGE understatement.

Usually I am the kind of woman that steps straight in and sorts things out. Not today. I jumped up and down on the spot like I was on a bed of hot coals, flapping my hands around. Then I just stood there looking at the Doctor covered in hot pink polish.

I sent Tiny away. And we got to fixing things up.

But that's not all. No. No. The story does not end here.

Back when my Mum was in Sydney helping with the smalls, I went to go to bed reasonably early. It was 9:30pm and I went to brush my teeth, and who should I meet in the hallway? Ah yes. Tiny. With black circles on each of her cheeks. It's 9:30pm. WITH BLACK CIRCLES ON HER CHEEKS.

I knew she'd been meddling with my cosmetics bag. She'd been in my bed giving herself an Emo makeover with my Stila Smudge Pots - which is like eyeliner that will not ever, ever come off, which I rarely ever use because it requires industrial amounts of make-up remover to get even a little bit off, it's the perfect eyeliner if you're Jacques Cousteau and never want your make-up to come off. And she had smeared it all over her cheeks, in almost perfect circles. Oh and all over her hands too.

The joy. The deep joy.

But friends, gather round, because this is not even close the end. I cleaned that stuff off her - she didn't flinch, she didn't cry, even though I was fuming and had steam coming out my ears. I almost did. But Tiny, nope, not even one little tear.

So a week or so later finds me at work. One of my colleagues took a photo of me, because of course I wanted to play with this and I looked so tired, I decided to put some more make-up on. Look tired? No fear, add blush. I innocently reached into the depths of my make-up bag, pulled out my trusty blush, and applied a big, fat black circle on my cheek.

It was at this point I realised Tiny had used my blush brush to apply her perfect black circles. And now I shared the same look. Except I looked as though I was sporting a massive bruise on my cheek. Hot.

Then I looked at all my damn make-up brushes. That little Tiny had used every single one of my brushes in that smudge pot/greasepaint palaver.

Tiny and my make-up? Not a great mix.