In The Realm Of Awesome.

This is him now. Pat Mastroianni at your service. 

And this is him back in the days of Degrassi. 

Man I miss that show. 

Possum Magic Turns 30:: A Giveaway

I grew up on a diet of Possum Magic and Vegemite sandwiches. I used to lie on the spare bed, in the sunshine, and read books. Book after book after book. 

Idyllic really. 

Possum Magic was always a favourite. Mem Fox, one of Australia's best-loved authors, created Grandma Poss and little Hush way back in 1983. Can you believe it? 

It's one of those iconic reads that has been part of many generations lives. I love reading it to my own smalls, it's such a beautiful story.

To celebrate this literary milestone, courtesy of Scholastic Australia, I've got three copies of the deluxe clothbound hardbook to giveaway (valued at $29.99 each). 

To enter all you have to do is comment on this post and tell me what your favourite sandwich is. 

- One entry per person
- Please, please, please ensure you leave your email address, if I can't contact you, I can't send you your prize. 
- Entries are open from Tuesday 23rd April and close midnight 29th April 2013. 
- Open to Australian residents only (sorry!)

Dancing On The Inside:: When Tiny Got Her Groove Back

When Tiny told me she didn't want to go to dancing anymore, I thought about how to handle it - and then decided it was best if we didn't force it. Like many of you commented (thank you) - there's plenty of time to go back to it if she wanted to. 

Tiny wasn't keen to be part of the concert, and I think she'd found it difficult with some of the other little girls - so we stopped going. But I did ask if she'd like to go to the end of year concert so she could see her cohorts in action. She said yes, and this weekend we were in the audience to watch them dance their little hearts out.

She really, really loved watching the concert - as did I. I think Tiny's favourite thing was the amount of sparkles and the heart costumes - she kept talking about them so much.And then she said she wanted to go back to dancing next year. 

I am such a dork - my daughter wasn't even in the concert and I got tears in my eyes - actually no - it's pollen! Those sweet, enthusiastic children are only small for such a brief amount of time - it made me think about how brief childhood is - and how in the matter of a few short years - things change completely. 

I am going to do my darndest to make this Christmas super smashingly fun to the max. I'm going to get my Christmas craft on ASAP - and get a tree this week. You heard it here first. 

I've been saving up to buy the smalls a trampoline - I can't wait to bounce on it with them. When Tiny got her groove back - and when Lexi threw caution to the wind and re-discovered the fun. Boom! We're in business. 

A Tiny Recap

 One day not long ago I said to Matt that I was looking forward to Tiny starting school. For the simple reason that we would no longer have a tussle over what she will wear that morning. Nevermind the fact I'll be a sobbing mess, rueing the day my baby went off to school.

The truth is, I am not looking forward to Tiny starting school. Everyone knows that as soon as small children start school, it fast tracks them to growing up even quicker.

I need to have another baby.

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Tiny lay in bed with me the other morning, curled up in my arms. I was sleep drunk and just wanted to snooze, despite the incessant shrill of my alarm telling me otherwise. Tiny rolled over and told me my breath was stinky.

******************
On Thursday Tiny and I went to see the Doctor at his school as part of Education Week. Tiny sat on my lap throughout the very long concert, then told me she wanted to whisper in my ear. I leant forward, "Mum, your breath smells."

It's love. And halitosis.

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Friday is the day Tiny goes to the new daycare/preschool thing. I have been in strong denial that she even goes there. This morning she cried and cried because she didn't want to go. I held my wee one in my arms and told her it was just for a short time, and that she'd have fun.

During the day I thought of her, me at work, her at a new place full of new faces. I tried to call to check on her but no one answered.

Matt texted me later that afternoon to say he had picked Tiny up. She'd even told him she'd had a fun day.

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This makes me think I have bad breath. I hate bad breath. Moving forward I will not breath on anyone.

Dangerous Kids VS Bubble Wrapped Cloistered Kids

Do you let your kids do dangerous things? Me? Nope. Not really. Which is a shame really. It is. They live this cloistered life where they don't get to experience life's heady ups and it's way down downs. 


While my kids don't live a dangerous life, I do try and invest in them a sense of independence. I think independence in children is an absolutely positive thing. It's what you want. Well it's what I want anyhow. 


I lived a childhood where we tore up the streets riding our bikes 'round and 'round, through church yards, up and down gravel roads. We walked to the local BP station for mixed lollies. We walked bare foot through grass. We got sunburnt. I jumped into the pool. Mum had to fish me out. We lit fire crackers. We made bonfires. We made teepees out of sticks. I jumped into the pool. Mum had to fish a blue-faced me out. We drove through my grandparent's paddocks, me sitting on Gramps' knee steering. I got rose thorns in my fingers. I trod on bindis. I trod on prickles. I trod on bees. I trod on a nail. Yes. I trod on a lot. That's what happens when you have big feet like me. 


We had cats, dogs, rabbits, lambs, birds, fish and chickens for pets. Life was good. Life was full. And Mum and Dad cast out a net for us to catch our own experiences. 


And then I look at my children's experiences. They don't really play out on the street with the other kids. Society has in a way wrapped them up in bubble-wrap and cloistered our kids. We're raising a generation of kids that are bubble-wrapped. Heck, all the playgrounds these days are safety-conscious they've removed the fun from it. Where's the sense of adventure? 


One of my friends posted this TED Talk on their Facebook page (thanks to whoever that was) and I became inspired. 


I'm inspired to let my children experience more. I want them to play with fire - but with boundaries. I want them to pull things apart. I'm going to let my kids use knives. I'm going to give my kids tools to experience life to a fuller capacity. They can throw spears too - just not sure where we're going to do that. 


If for one thing alone, watching this has added a new dimension to my parenting. I want my kids to live a colourful and rich childhood. A pocket-knife is now on my shopping list for the Doctor's birthday.

Make Kony Famous: Kony 2012

Ther'es nothing more powerful than an idea.
Get involved. Let's make this revolution happen.
Get on Twitter, share it on Facebook, yell it from the rooftops, plaster it up on your local walls, chat around your water cooler.

Censoring Music

More and more I'm finding that I am needing to censor music from my children's young ears.

It's not like I'm listening to NWA or any heavy-handed lyrics. I'm talking everyday music that I once took for granted. Lily Allen. Gotye. Black Eyed Peas. I could go on, but I can't think of anyone else right now.

Apparently everyone's dropping the f-bomb in their lyrical miracles, and it's become au fait.

You're talking to PottyMouthMama here. I tried to delete swearing from my vocab the moment I birthed my first babe.

I'm not just playing Justine Clarke CDs over and over again, but help a girl out - what's your tactic when artists are getting their swear on? I'm not some little prude sitting in the corner. Surely I am not alone.

I want my kids to remain kids for as long as possible. To preserve that innocence for as many years as possible.

I remember vividly playing records on my Uncle Silas' record player, discovering the Beatles, Tiny Tim and many others as I worked my way through my parent's collection.

I remember puzzling over lyrics and wondering what they meant - and imagining my own innocent meaning - but I don't remember them cussing on the mike. Ever.

Now piles of CDs are relegated to times when I am alone, in the car, or if the smalls have gone out. Clearly, my music collection is somewhat refined when in their company - but their innocence is worth more to me than listening to a song. Can you dig?

Childhood

While Matt's show was happening, all the smalls that were gathered with their parents played out on the street (supervised), chalking, customising masks, and doing what small children should do. Playing.

I loved this snippet of life. Slowed down.

It reminded me of when I was small. We'd play with the neighbourhood kids. Out in the street. Enjoying simple play. Remember running in packs?

I love this photo taken by my friend Bec. A glimpse of it. It's a picture of how childhood should be. That innocence is retained so briefly. It's so fragile and should be preserved.

Tiny playing with two gals she'd never met before, but it all just clicked. So simple and fills my heart. Sigh.

Help Me Win a New Ford Territory For A Year and $5000

Drive. I've given this word much thought over this weekend. Drive. Tossed it around in my head, it echoed a little and then it plummeted down to where I played with it for a while. I kept going back to it.

You see, this weekend was the weekend when we were celebrating the Doctor's 6th birthday with a little party with some of his new Kindy pals.

He wanted a birthday party. I wanted to give him a party. I love the idea of 'making memories', and this weekend, I've made memories. In my freaking muscles from standing up for 12 hours straight baking. I love baking. But not for 12 hours. By myself. While looking after two smalls.

The tension crept up ever so slowly. I started the morning pretty pleased with myself. I made cookie dough. Wrapped it. Refrigerated it. Moved on to the next gig. Cupcakes. Made them. Baked them. Moved on. Birthday cake. Made the first of three. And on it goes. We rushed out to the shops to grab some bits and pieces, came back, and the tension had crept up a little higher, until it finally rested in my shoulders. Aching.

I took stock of myself on more than one occasion. What was driving me to be so batty about this birthday party? Millions of women have successfully held birthday parties. And then it hit me. It hit me just like the sifter did this morning, as it fell out of the pantry. Straight in the back of my head as I was bending down to pick something up. BOOM!

I was worried about what the other mums would think of me. The driving force behind me being more Nigella, was what would the other mums think when they drop their wee darlings off, and I feed them with all manner of sugary goodness.

The telltale sign was the guilt of the packet cake mix. I for one hate packet mixes. But the Women's Weekly told me it was 3 x Buttercake packet mixes, and this time, I was loathe to stuff up my son's birthday cake (unlike his first birthday cake - but that's another story). I dutifully baked the packet mixes. In the back of my head - besides the egg where the sifter whacked me - is someone going to eat this cake and think - my goodness, THIS WOMAN USED PACKET MIX? Outrageous.

And then it got me to thinking about these cakes. These birthday cakes that are like show dogs. Look what my mama made for me! But then again, I remember the cakes that were made lovingly for me, they act as landmarks in my life - and I like to look back and remember those heady days.

The Doctor weighed in on my prowess early in the day with: "Your leaves look good Mum, but not as good as the ones in the book." Yowsers.

I had to slap myself out of it. No one else was around to do it (although I'm sure Tiny would jump at the chance to slap me). I kept thinking of the Doctor instead of the mums. I kept trying to think of 12 eager little children, and how excited they would be! That their drive is completely different to ours. How that innocence is so pure, and trusting, and proud as punch.

Maybe you'd say I reversed out of competing in the Mummy Olympics, and accelerated into trying to create some magical memories. Driven into the happiness, the chaos, the angst, the excitement of parenting. That's what drive is. I have the drive to make memories for my small fry, but sometimes I feel like I don't have enough petrol in the tank.

I can't even remember what I ate at birthday parties when I was small. It was all about that giddy excitement. Seeing your friends, playing games, balloons, and being picked up too early (it's always too early to leave a good party), and driving home with butterflies in your tummy, replaying all the action.

A Cat Lady

After re-locating our rabbit back to its breeder, and ever since our goldfish turned black and learnt how to float, we've been pet-less.

I enjoyed not having to look after another being. Life was simpler. I didn't have a rabbit eating my brand new jeans. Or a goldfish needing its tank to be cleaned.

And then it got a bit sad, and I had a word in Matt's ear about the smalls needing a pet and the fact that by our smalls ages, I had about fifty bazillion pets, inadvertently killed a duck, dug up worms for my mum for Mother's Day, and so much more.

So I emailed to ask if our landlord would let us get a cat.

Let me be upfront.

We're cat people. We like dogs. We love cats. Well I do, anyway.

I waited over a month - no response. Playing hard to get.

So I emailed again. Finally a response. Negative. Apparently our landlord had a bad experience with a previous tenant in another abode. They had cats. In a carpeted apartment that came fully furnished. And it was trashed by a cat lady.

So no. No we could not have a cat. Not now, not never. Not even in ten minutes.

Problem is, our house is our own furniture and we have floorboards.

Real estate agents. You can switch on your brains now.

So for now, we have to make do with going out at night and catching the snails for the smalls. Yep, that is what's in that little plastic container that Tiny holds so excitedly.

We have pet snails.

Three Is

Three is a difficult age. Tiny is really asserting her independence. And her authority. Weeing on everything when she's literally pee'd off with us. I wish I was kidding.

She's Tantytown Superstar. She's over tired. She loves getting her own way, and she loves letting us know about it.

Tonight I was moving the living room around a little, and Matt and I discussed moving some furniture to make some space. I said, ok I think I am ready to get rid of the wardrobe (that is currently in our living room - yeah go figure - but it has a story). So get rid of the wardrobe, or Tiny. Matt's very quick reply: "We can store things in the wardrobe."

We're fatigued with this little assertive three year old.

At the best of times, she is a joyful little being. So full of wonder. Skipping ahead - learning so much, a delight to be with.

At the worst of times she has me screeching at the buckets of water on the bathroom floor that takes me countless rounds of mopping, letting her know I'm not happy about the yoghurt being massaged into the carpet, the drawings on the wall.

And then soon she will be four, and I will miss the mischievous, crazy-fun of a three year old. Yearn for her to be smaller again. I already do that now.

I feel like the grumpiest mother ever to walk this earth. I'll try to screech a little less this week.

The Long Track

The Doctor and Tiny were busy busting each other's bubbles yesterday. Some days, they just wake up, and they hassle each other. Man it does my banana in.

I sent them outside. Such a splendiforous day. Who could be cranky in the sunshine? Who?! No one, that's who.

They got creative together and built an epic outdoor train track. Right down the side of the house, on a slope, so the trains just kept on a-chuggin'.

I love those sunny days when the bickering gets sorted out by themselves and they can play happily together. In the meantime I got to clean the floors and tidy the house a little. I would absolutely have preferred to be sitting in the sunshine playing trains today.

An Interview:: My Mum

It's Mother's Day today. I thought who better to talk to about being a Mum than my own Mum.

She didn't actually want to do it, I forced her. Sorry Mum. Sometimes mums have to do things they think suck. Like sitting in doorways to block night wandering toddlers. Like cleaning up vomit (high five me!). Like cleaning the toilet (oh yeah baby). Without further ado, I introduce my Mum, we like to call her Triscals.

-------------------------------------------

What's the best part about being a Mum?

Holding my babies and marvelling at the miracle; watching them grow up with lots of treasured memories, and now receiving the most wonderful unconditional love and care from them.

What's the worst part?

The worst part was when they started to leave home on the next stage of their 'journey' - a most gut wrenching, sad yet happy time. I mourned before they left and after!

Did you ever want a refund?

NEVER EVER EVER.

Having three girls must have been an, ahem, handful?

Only when you had to jump into swimming pools to fish PMM out or having to nag Choccy and Anna to come home before dark... hardly 'handful' problems though.

Do you remember celebrating Mother's Day with your babies? What made it special?

Reflections of wonderful home made cards, the lovingly wrapped (and sometimes made) gift and the wonderful breaky in bed with flowers on the tray!

What's one of your most memorable moments as a Mum?

Anna bringing home the Hungerbeasts - what craziness!!!

Choccy as a little tot - every meal time spilling her water.

PMM all dressed up and going trick or treating with her school friends.

The girls phoning me at work to say that the cat was having kittens on the back lawn and the cat didn't seem to know what to do!

Three most beautiful brides, gorgeous husbands, and absolutely splendiferous weddings; the arrivals of seven most fabulous little people (ok so that goes into the grandmother file).

These are just a few of my favourite things!

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I can barely believe I am uploading this photo to share. I am the completely dorky one in the Jonathon Sceats uber massive glasses that look like owl eyes. Uh huh. Awesome. Er thanks Dad for scanning that beauty for me.

Thanks Triscals! Happy Mother's Day!

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.

Memory Makers

I always embrace a new way to preserve memories. So many things happen, so many high points, low points, memorable points, so much that I won't remember unaided. And I want to remember as much as a I can about my children growing up. I wish I could just simply add some more memory to my own personal hard drive, but given I can't, there are ways to remember good things. And it's more than just photos.

I am pretty certain I gleaned this awesome idea from Brooke at Inchmark.

Whenever the Doctor says something funny, I take a scrap of paper (and I mean scrap, an old receipt, the back of an envelope etc) and write it down with the date. I then pop it into a tin.

When I'm having a grey day, I take out these little things and read them. And there are some real funny ones in there:

'Mum, look what the Winterman says!' - the Doctor calls the weatherman the Winterman. Quite apt during Winter.

'Mum why is that dog going for a walk without it's anter?' - the Doctor for some unknown reason calls owners 'anters'. It's too darling to correct him.

Or this one from pre-Christmas last year: 'Our Christmas lights are dancing'.

Or this one: 'Thank you for letting me do some toilet training a very while ago'. (Seriously, the pleasure is all mine).

Cheap and cheerful. Got any other ways to preserve your darling memories?

The Difficult Post

via

I'm sorry for my previous post. I just find it difficult to know what to say.

So I'll just say this.

Last week a little cousin left us unexpectedly. She was only three. A beautiful, wide-eyed three year old with a smile to match.

Needless to say, today was a big day and such a sad farewell.

Send Out A Salute

Thanks to those who gave me book recommendations for the Doctor. We got 'Beginnings and Endings with Lifetimes in Between' by Bryan Mellonie and Robert Ingpen. We'll visit the library over the weekend to find some more.

Today is a really difficult day. One of those days when you wake up and no matter what, you can't lull yourself back to sleep because you know what's to come.

Make sure you hold your smalls close, breathe them in, hold them, really, really hold them. Remember that. Take a mental snapshot. Write about it. Breathe them again. Tell them you love them. You can never tell them enough.

Good night sweet prince

And flights of angels, sing thee to thy rest!

- Hamlet, V, ii

Autumnal Afternoon Walks

The smalls and I have been enjoying afternoon walks. We make our way, late afternoon, down to the park, in time for the smalls to play for a while, the Doctor scoots around the path on his scooter, Tiny goes crawling off into the crisp leaves. It's clear from her expression that she's having a hoot.

Tiny loves the swing, and it's usually at this time that Matt rolls in fresh off the train.

We've been enjoying the fresh Autumn air on our faces, watching the trees shift from greens into golds, reds, leaves crunchy underfoot. Sometimes the smell of someone's fire, the Doctor asks me why they have a fire. Conversations transpire, conversations evolve. The Doctor shows us his break dancing, begs to go and play leaf races. Alas, there's been no rain lately, so leaf racing is off the walking menu. But we make our way through the second park and watch the dogs prance around on their evenings walks. We greet strangers. And those who divert their eyes - as though we're imaginary - I make sure I say an extra jovial hello. What am I, cellophane??

I don't think I've ever enjoyed Autumn as much as I do now that I have children. It's like rediscovering each of the seasons all over again.

My Band

If only I was cool enough to be in a band. If only I had one inch of musical talent. I took piano lessons when I was 9. My Mum says I lasted 6 weeks. In my mind it was 6 months. Of pure torture. I didn't want to practice, I just wanted to be a musical genius.

So this will have to do. Played it? Playing? Gosh it's all about the memes for me these days.

EDIT:: My band's name is Indra III. It was Friendship (Pittsburgh), but I didn't dig it, I'm in a band and I can change it at a whim right?

My album title: "Come Back To You".

Playing (badly) at a music hall near you.

Here are the rules.

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”or click this. The FIRST random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to "Random quotations"or click this. The last FOUR or FIVE words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”or click this. THIRD picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

awesome cover photography from greenpin. special thanks to my friend Emma who whizzed up my artwork. what a girl genius.

De Clutter Bug

fairly unrelated photo - though a pretty spider's web is the ultimate in organised homes, isn't it? can you spot it amidst the greenery?

Still. Decluttering. While doing so, I've come across a lot of 'samples' of products that I work with.

I was over at Leni & Rose and she's been madly decluttering too. So inspired by her clean out, that I've now loaded my next load for the op shop. I've posted off some things I have been meaning to post for a couple of weeks, and my house is starting to look a little more normal. Less bric a brac, more home. Otherwise I am teetering on the verge of setting up my own museum, I'll be charging an entry fee to the Doctor's room - and Tiny's. They house the largest collections of pre-loved finds (see The Bin entries if you don't know what I'm rabbitting on about).

Anyway - some of these samples include child safety products (a reputable brand in case you're worried). If you live in Australia and your home needs safety proofing, please email me or leave a comment and I'll randomly select someone to send the products to. In doing so, you're doing me a favour - huuuuge favour.

Who knew decluttering could lead to so many giveaways?