Tiny Style Posts: How To Get The Look

I've been inundated with emails, phone calls, faxes, tweets, SMSes, skywriters and pigeon couriers asking, nay - demanding - "Just how in tarnation do I steal her style?"

Yes you saw it on Instagram, and now you want to rock the get up a la Tiny de Bouvier. 

Well here is the lowdown for your fashion showdown.

How to get the look, Tiny style:

- wear a t-shirt as a skirt - we like to call it a t-skirt. It's even better if it keeps sliding off throughout the day so everyone sees your knickers. Multiple times. 

- Converse hi-tops are not optional. They're standard. Wear them.

- A fur jacket is not so much about warmth as it is about looking like a Wookie. Wookie's are the epitome of style. It's only so long before Carine Roitfield starts to tap that

- want to dress your outfit up in a snap? Add a bow tie! Don't have a bow tie? Add a hairband with a bow on it. And make it snappy

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.

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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.

Horrid Henry School Holidays Giveaway

Have you ever read Francesa Simon's Horrid Henry books? Well. Maybe not you, but your kids?

They are very, very good. The Doctor adores them. They are funny, and clever - and just what little people like. Humour that's totally read-able, a little bit of mischief and a few illustrations tossed in.

But did you know they made a film of Horrid Henry? Just like the books, it is super good - and stars the ever-beautiful Angelica Huston, the cerebral and stylish Richard E. Grant. It's a great film - and Tiny loves it (she's four), just as the Doctor does (he's seven) just as Matt and I both do (we're in our 30s).

The good news is I have a Horrid Henry giveaway. One that's perfect for the Winter school holidays.

There will be two winners. One winner will receive the Horrid Henry DVD and a hard cover activity book. The runner up will receive one copy of the HH DVD.
All you have to do to enter is tell me in 25 words or less (and I am strict so I don't get into trouble with the law):

What was so horrid about you when you were small?

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Open to Australian residents only
Entries are open from Saturday 30th June 2012 - winners will be announced on the PottyMouthMama Facebook page on Wednesday 4th July 2012.
You must be easily contactable.
There will be no disputes, no arguing and strictly no haggling over the winners.
PottyMouthMama is the judge of all entries.
PS - I love you.

Tiny Book Club

The other day Tiny asked me to read her a book. I agreed. Then she brought this out to me. 

Therapeutic Monday:: In The Garden

I spent some time in the garden yesterday. Actually a lot of time. With secateurs in hand. 

The reason for this spate of Gardening Australia? I had to find the water meter for the water meter reader man. Do you think I found it? Nope. Despite hacking into everything - and being completely disgusted with the weeds that think it's ok to procreate in my garden. I still have not found the meter. 


However I did find my inner gardener, my inner Peter Cundal. It was sprinkling and cold and yet - I was stalwart and continued hacking into those overgrown bushes (not that bush, manners, please). I must be channeling my mum. And my grandmother. Both keen gardeners. Now there are piles of clippings all over our garden. And nowhere to put them. Novice fail. 


It was good to do physical work - to feel the physical tiredness, and see tangible results. 


In other ground breaking news Tiny went back to preschool today - and I got to spend some time with her and her classmates, decorating picture plates. Boy it was funny, I was chuffed to spend time there, and today was a triumph. Tiny wore jeans. Crumbs. She gave me a cute attack. 


Tonight Tiny told me she wanted to climb onto my back and never hop off, no matter what, she'd just ride up there on my back - and never-ever- everlet me go, then she would yell: "this is paradise". Chris Martin has been brainwashing her. 


Sigur Ros. This is beautiful. A good reason for me to move to Iceland. Good music and crazy knits. 


Tomorrow, on ANZAC day, we're planning to head into the city. I enjoy seeing the diggers, waving, acknowledging them. I'd like to take the smalls to see that, with rosemary pinned on. 

Tiny the Tyrant

Tiny is putting me through my paces these last couple of weeks.

That little innocent face? Yes. That little person, hamming it up for the cameras, has been a complete and utter whirlwind of mischief.

First stop - weeing on the Doctor's bed in the morning.

When asked why she did this - her response:
"I couldn't see the toilet."

Second stop - a number two not in the loo - in the bathtub, together with a bath towel and a bath mat. The girl is gross.

She did not even deny this.

Third stop on this whistle stop tour of havoc - this time - a jolly big wee on her bed.

And today friends, I went to pick the Doctor up from school - I pulled the scooters out of the boot because I thought - what the hey - it will be fun! Tiny rode her scooter all of 1 metre, then threw herself on the ground and chucked an almighty wobbly. Almighty in the sense that every other parent who walked past gave me that knowing look, and I almost listed her on eBay. Yes. That kind of almighty look.

At home she's been turning her bedroom into a librarian's nightmare by tossing all her books all over the floor. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Together with a nice mix of clean and worn clothes. I've given up assessing whether the clothes need washing or not, fold half of them and toss the others into the wash.

Then there's the kamikaze attacks on the Doctor. I arrived home from work last week to find the Doctor sporting a hefty bite mark on his cheek. Seriously?

And on a separate day, the smalls were in the bath, I walked in to find the Doctor completely covered in scratch marks, and Tiny reclining at the other end of the bath. They now have separate baths because they fight too much.

What is going on with Tiny? Do I need an intervention? Or just a holiday?

This Is 4

Yesterday my darling Tiny turned four. I guess she's not Tiny anymore, but she will always be my wee babe. She swam into this world, a baby mermaid, four years ago.

We enjoyed the day home together. I took the day off - last year I was at work - and it pained me greatly to be away from her on her birthday. So we hung out yesterday. Ate a lazy breakfast. I took the Doctor to school for his last day of Kindergarten. We went out for morning tea. Perused a bookshop. And ended the day by going to our local Chinese restaurant - just the four of us.

We came home, and because of my 'Je suis la fatigue' (Dad, that was for you), I hadn't mustered the energy to make a cake.

Sorry Tiny.

But we did have a Freddo icecream cake and the smalls had a hoot finding Freddo heads, managing to go through three rounds of cake before I said 'Enough my little friends!'.

Today I will make up for my non-cake baking by making her: a pink, and purple, and blue cake - by popular demand. My stomach is turning at the idea of all that food colouring.

 To my wee babe - I'm ever grateful that you're in our lives. You are funny, clever, cuddly, smart and oh-so-cute. You're a dancer, a mermaid, a puppy, a catty, a princess - you are the bomb Tiny. I loved one, two and three, and I know four is going to be super.

What Is This Called?

This is Tiny.

This is Tiny running ridiculously late for preschool.

This is Tiny after staying up half the night, sleeping in 'til 8:20am, being hurried through breakfast, wearing all purple and veto-ing any other footwear other than her trusty yellow gumboots - yes they will be the best choice of footwear on a sweltering summer day.

This is Tiny who somehow, despite running late, manages to somehow negotiate a fresh pain au chocolat from the French boulangerie, sitting on bench with her mama, sucking in a few extra moments before heading off to preschool.

This is Tiny.

Leaning Tower of Colander

Yesterday in a bid to keep the Doctor busy while I clocked up some 'me minutes' we set up an activity he was gangbusters for.

He gathered the goodies, I gave him a few more, and away he went, building a water fountain.

This was an excellent practice in concetration, balance and problem solving. Many times the fountain tumbled. And many times he was disgruntled. He wanted me to build it. But I wouldn't. I helped a few times. I gave him some pointers, but I left him to work on it - and he was triumphant. Until we introduced the hose which sent the fountain toppling. But that was ok because it was fun to the max.

We used cups, plates, colanders, plastic colanders (from ricotta), anything will do really as long as water can overflow, flow through etc.

This is an idea we gleaned from Jo England's Happy Times Together. Lots of great ideas to do with older kids in here.

It's Me: Day 10 (The Outsider)

I know, I know, it's not strictly day ten, but I decided to go AWOL. How many pictures of myself can I possibly plaster on my own blog? It felt like way too many. And yet today, I must finish this small project because otherwise it's hanging over my head.

Today my outfit* is dedicated to all the mothers at the Doctor's pre-school. The ones who avert eyes and never say hi.

This is me saying hi to you. How do you like them apples?

* Please note - no stripes or cardies have been harmed in my outfit today. Are you feeling proud? I am.

Digging On Ditching

I'm digging on ditching daylight savings. It means I get up extra early and can make hay while the sun shines. Well the sun's not shining so bright here today, but it's still just as super.

The Doctor is home from pre-school, sick. Tiny is in fine form, trying her darndest to get the Doctor's goggles on while she nibbles toast.

I've got to get some work done today, so am busy looking for some crafty Easter collaborations we can work on.

Do you get Kids Craft Weekly? If not, you certainly should! Amber has such beautiful and fun (for both parents and kids) ideas - painted foil eggs are on our crafty little menu today!

AND you can't go past the Kiddley archives. Such a rich resource that we're all lucky to have access to. Claire's creative genius is.. well GENIUS!

Do You Ever Take Pets Shopping?

Tiny and I went grocery shopping today. I had been putting it off for almost a fortnight. We'd been living on rice and red beans. Not really, but it was beginning to feel that way. I managed to pry myself off the couch and go where no trolley had been before. Ok they've been there plenty of times. Let's face it. Those trolleys are dirty, heinous little creatures that stay out late and get... trollied.

Tiny and I conquering the aisles. Look at us shop. Woohooo! We're like Thelma and Louise of the supermarket. Watch us ride over the edge of the frozen section.

It was only when we got to the checkout that I realised I had inadvertently brought one of our pets with us. I saw a silverfish scuttle from one of our green bags under the scales. Yuck. I pretended I didn't see him, though he was a rather over-sized little blighter. Double yuck. Anyone got any cures for silverfish? I keep bringing them up here because they keep appearing - right here. Right in my little home. I don't dig 'em.

On a brighter note, the Doctor stayed home and hung out with my parents in law. He came back into our house hauling some mean loot. One of which was this delectable box - how gorg is that? Now I'm just figuring out how many Thomas trains it will take to switch it out and make it mine. Mwhahahaha.

Super Doctor

No waiting time. No ouchy needles. Only bulk bills. Watch out. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Nope, it's Super Doctor. Cape complete-o.

Finished it last night, along with almost finishing my top (woohoo - let's hold a party, meet me back here at 9pm and we'll pop the cork - awright?), and finishing cutting out a new top. It helps when half the class isn't there.

So the Doctor woke this morning to his superhero cape. However, it appears to be faulty - it won't make him fly. Ahem. Where's the imagination senor?

Anyway, took the Doctor to pre-school wearing said cape. He was happy as a lark. Then I went to leave and asked if he wanted to give me the cape to take home. Nope, not parting with it. So I went to check with a teacher that it was ok - and she misread what I meant and went straight over to the Doctor to tell him to give me the cape.

Such a bad, bad miscommunication. The Doctor was in tears. I was on the verge, I don't give a brass razoo if that cape gets trashed, it's meant for having fun, and rough and tumbles and zoom-zooming into the air, looping the loop and defying the ground. I was happy for him to keep it there, I just wanted to make sure it was ok. But nope - and then I got sent home. Detention for the mama.

I'm making vanilla sugar cookies for our afternoon play date. Hopefully that will help soothe a hurting super hero's heart.

Take that! Shazaaaam!

Magical March: Day 17

Happy St. Patrick's. Or if you're the Doctor - happy Patrick's day. Dressed head to toe (including green undies) in green, off he went to pre-school. So. Darn. Excited.

Happy St. Patrick's day to all my Irish readers. All one of you. Top of the morning to you Sheilsy.

Back To Magical March: Day 12

I've missed a few days. Punish me if you will, but I needed to take some time out of trying to see things magically for a moment to push through the week.

Today is Magical Thursday.

After forgetting to attend a meeting with my accountant on Monday, I turned up to see him today, albeit it 1/2 hour late. He's a rad guy. He didn't mind. He didn't even blink an eye when he saw the state of disarray my tax/accounting is in. Man, oh man, did I mention I hate paper work?

I stayed up late last night continuing Magical Methodical March. Silverfish be damned because you're not going to be eating here tonight. Awright? I even just found an invoice I've been hunting for for the past 36 hours. Magical and then some. Turn it up!

Since the last time you saw me, I've become magically hooked on Twitter. My favourite for the moment is Diddy. My goodness, his updates have made me laugh. But then I decided that things were going Twitter-ific when Matt exclaimed, "PottyMouthMama, now you're twittering to me about Tweeters." It's true. I hang my head in shame. IN SHAME MY FRIENDS. My whole life has become one online par-tay that I must attend at all hours. Breakfast, count me in. Lunch, snore - already here. Dinner, what's Diddy eating? Shame on me.

This afternoon we're busting out of the house once Tiny decides to rouse from her beauty sleep. We're heading to the park. There's no dinner to be had (let's just get it over with and delete it, no one's interested, alright?!). We're busting up some bark chip and we're gonna get vertical on the slide. Awww yeah. Magical March. Ain't nobody like you.

Magical March: Day 6

Day 6 of Magical March. You've caught me mid-hop. But I'm going to post something magical damn fool!

Magical for us today was making 'goop'. Yes that's right. Have you made goop? My goodness, it's so much fun that the Doctor and I sat spellbound for at least an hour, only packing it away when Tiny woke up (because Tiny would have liked to get her tiny little mittsies on it and probably eaten the lot).

Goop is incredibly tactile. Tactile to me is MAGICAL sensory deeeee-lite! Messy. Magical.
So here's the recipe if you feel the need to magic up some goop.

1 packet cornflour

1 cup water
colouring (optional)

Mix cornflour with water a little at a time so there are no lumps and bumps. Put the goop into a flat baking dish.

You can remove goop from carpet by allowing it to dry then brushing or vacuuming it out. Goop can be re-used after it has dried out. Crumble it into powder then restore it to goopy consistency by adding water one tablespoon at a time.

Are you enjoying a Magical March?

BTW - The Doctor is sporting his 'chef' hat courtesy of one of my friend's MILs. So cute.

Detention! The 2 for 1 post.

Pre-school for the Doctor is awesome. He loves it. There's been no tears, just pure unbridled excitement. He digs it in a solid gold kinda way. He doesn't know any names yet, but that's soon to change. Once we're there, he is in the zone and plays, barely even looking up to say goodbye. It's ace. The Doctor is really hitting his stride. And when I pick him up he is thrilled to see me (of course, who wouldn't be?) and talks non-stop about what he has done for the day.

Pre-school for me however... Well I feel as though I am borderline detention. Every time - and I am not fibbing - every single time I have dropped him off, I get a rap over the knuckles for something. Usually - food.

It's not that I send the Doctor with junk food. No siree. He goes with a fruit salad, yoghurt, sometimes homemade biscuits, a sandwich, vegetable sticks, more fruit, you dig? (Remember when you helped me with all those ace ideas??) They asked me last week if I could pack them a banquet lunch. So no, it's not the food that's the problem.

It's apparently the way I pack it.

There are four different places to put food.

Morning tea - fridge.

Morning tea - non-fridge.

Lunch - fridge.

Lunch - non-fridge.

I sort out the food on arrival, every time I am in the midst of doing so one of the Doctor's teachers comes over to tell me: please put them in a bag together; that container's too big; does this really need to be refrigerated?; oh yes that watermelon is leaking; can you not put the Doctor's lunch in that bag - he can't open it.

Ah yes, I love always feeling like such a numbskull. Over a lunchbox. Believe it or not, I do function in society. Hard to believe when I can't even manage to pack my son's lunch correctly, that I actually held down a full time job. Incredible, I know.

So this brings me to sewing last night. I whizzed to Spotlight yesterday and picked up some cottons and sewed up some bags for morning tea and lunch. Et voila! The watermelon still leaks but at least it's in a bag now.

In case you're wondering - in lieu of making lunch bags, I gave up the opportunity to finish up my top (which incidentally is a VERY expensive top given how much time I have spent on it).

Here ends my rant for today.

It's Cake O'Clock!

Yesterday I mentioned I did some baking while the Doctor was at pre-school. Something I enjoyed immensely because it's been a long time between cakes when I could wield the wooden spoon and not have someone small pining for a taste test. Just me and the bowl and the spoon. Ah yes, I remember this freedom of baking.

The Doctor has been asking for eons if we could make a chocolate cake. For some reason even unknown to me, we just didn't do it. Yesterday I baked the little dude his very own 'Hey-You're-At-Preschool-And-I-Know-You're-So-Thrilled-And-Perhaps-Not-So-Thrilled-That-I-Picked-You-Up-Early-But-Hey-I-Missed-You' cake.

Et voila! (see the small hand in the frame - ready to pounce!)

My sister's recipe. You can visit her blog if you like. Though for some reason she and her blog have taken some kind of vow of celibacy and she's not blogged since September 23 (8:51pm to be precise). Not that I'm taking notes. But she's just moved back to Sydney, you'd think she'd have something to say, apparently not. But anyway, her recipe is damn fine and damn easy. Even Marie Antoinette might like more than just one piece of cake, cake, cake.

And while I'm here, some interesting reading to keep you going:

- for anyone that has to endure hours of TTTE

- do you believe that Freecycling can become bigger than hard rubbish throw out? I don't.It would be good if it did, but then what would I do as a hobby (priorities!)? And anyone some people just don't dig the internet. Or as they might like to call them - the internets.

- do you love Maggie Gyllenhaal like I love her?

The Real First Day

It's the Doctor's first full day at pre-school. I'm fluctuating between being teary and trying to get all the boring jobs done before pick-up. Tiny's in a grumpy mood sleeping, so I'm washing, baking, blogging and trying to tidy this never-tidy house. I hope the little dude is ok.

This is a photo of my two punks together this morning. Tiny - as mentioned - in a filthy mood. Needless to say, she has not been introduced to the puppy (from my previous post) as yet. Once she is, I am sure she can turn that frown upside down.

Aye Aye Tailor!*

Tonight I learnt how to tailor tack. Do you know how to tailor tack? Clearly, my life was lacking, I was in wont, and now my life is fulfilled. I know how to tailor tack. Go me!

This is it. My top in progress. Looks like just a bit of fabric? Well - look closer and you can see my mean overlocking! Look even closer and you can see my tailor tacking AND pins for the pleats. Wow - it was a big night for me. I wasn't meant to overlock - but I snuck on anyway, given it's my favourite part!

And look what followed me home. This Fisher Price puppy walker thing. I'm going to give it a bath with some nice disinfectant and Tiny can try it out.

AND - I promised a shot of my colourful flowers. They're still not potted. Tomorrow, once the Doctor returns from pre-school perhaps?

* PottyMouthMama supplies all puns free of charge. She will never charge you for a pun. Not once. Enjoy them. As many as you like. She's bound to load at least one into each post.