Tag Archives: Dave

I just want to know that I am not alone. Bendy Hair Follicles?

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Fess up.  Who has them?  Who even knows what I’m talking about?

 

Bendy Hair Follicles or BHF as I call them around here.  When your stupid hair grows out one way, and then gets forced into another direction and then it hurts like a mofo.  Yeah, you know what I’m talking about!  Don’t you?

I want to know that BHF is a real thing, and it is not just me.  My husband gives me a look like he thinks I am bat shit crazy whenever I mention it.  But he just doesn’t KNOW.  He has no hair.

I’ll tell you a little secret about hair. Hair is stubborn and hair doesn’t like being told what to do or where to go.

 

These are the people that are likely to be inflicted by this nasty reality:

  1. Curly haired bitches.  I think these girls have it the worst.  Their crap curly hair grows out of their head in all different directions and they generally have very strong evil follicles that resist hairbrushes best efforts to put them back into place.  What happens is this – unless the bitch in question lets her wild tresses go nuts, she has to put it up in some fashion.  There is a 100% chance that whatever hairstyle is chosen, there will be follicles bent the wrong way.  If the poor bitch has kids, especially babies who like to grab hair, wild and woolly hair is just not an option, therefore, she MUST tie it back and subsequently subject herself to the pain of the bendy follicle.
  2. Ballerinas.  These girls wear their hair in buns – right up on top of their heads.  Really tight buns – smothered in hairspray so the hair has no chance of escaping the anti-gravity hold.  This is all well and good while dancing on stage.  The girl looks as cute as a button, but she has no idea what is about to happen.  After her performance and the audience has all gone home, she has to take her hair out.  There is no avoiding it.  Once the 1000 bobby pins come out, her follicles are going to scream as they are allowed to fall back to their natural position.  Agony.
  3. Hippies.  Sometimes, you can get BHF is other places too.  Like your legs if your all hippie like or just don’t shave much.  This usually happens when you wear leggings or stockings.  Pregnant women wear leggings a lot and they also don’t get to shave much because they just can’t.  When you pull your leggings on, your spindly leg hairs are pulled upwards and trapped there.  That is of course until you take your leggings off later.  And then BAM – Bendy Leg Hair Follicles.
  4. Ferals.  Bendy Hair Follicles get worse as your hair gets dirtier.  If for some reason you don’t get to wash your hair very much, like you are homeless or have babies, there is a good chance that your follicles are getting bendier and bendier.  Especially as you keep on pulling your hair back everyday to avoid little hands getting up into your knots and pulling on them.  Also, as your hair gets more gross, you tend to resort to the old bun or shove it under a hat to hide the fact that you haven’t brushed your hair or showered in a month.  Not good options for the BHF sufferer. It’s just a vicious circle.  Sadly, the only way to cure BHF is to wash your hair.  Easier said than done.

 

I am horrified to say that I fall under all of these categories (well, except ballerina.  I haven’t done ballet for a long time, but I REMEMBER!).  And my hair gets curlier and bendier after each baby!  Forgot to mention – going to bed with wet hair is also a big no-no for the person with BHF as your head on a pillow is bound to push your wet follicles into unnatural positions and dry there.  Problem is, I generally shower at night after babies are asleep, but I don’t want to wash my hair then or it would be worse in the morning!  (not to mention that curly haired bitches SHOULD NEVER go to bed with wet hair or they wake with the afro from hell)  Sometimes my head hurts so bad that I pounce on D as soon as he gets out of bed in the morning and beg him to take the babies so I can wash my goddammotherfuckingbendyhairfollicles before I chop my head off, stomp on it and throw it in a fire.

I looked and looked for a curly haired bitch photo of myself but there just aren't any because I ALAWYS pull it back - thus making my BHF worse!

I looked and looked for a curly haired bitch photo of myself but there just aren’t any because I ALWAYS pull it back – thus making my BHF worse!

Is this normal?

Do YOU have BHF?

Put your face on and do your hair. We’ve been shot and Tameka can shoot you too!

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This is a really triumphant moment for me.  I have been successful in convincing D to participate in a family photo shoot.  You know he is not a big lover of the camera and will always do his best to sabotage photos with a goofy face.  Every.  Single.  Time.

 

The gorgeous and talented Tameka from Tree Pretty Photography has taken our photos before.  Last year she did a photo shoot with what I thought were going to be all my children.  D got out of that one.  You can see last years shoot here.  Little did I know that I was soon to discover we were expecting one more!  Now we really do have all of our children, our family is as big as it is going to get, so it is of ever increasing importance to me to secure that illusive family photo.  A photo with us all in it.  A photo where we all look normal and like we love each other.  A photo that we could even put on our wall and not cringe every time we walk past it.

Tameka is running a freakingly good value promotion on the 16th November, which is in 2 weeks!  She is offering mini photo shoots on the beach.  You get a half hour time slot with 5 different ‘poses’ and the high resolution, edited photos in both black and white and colour will be emailed to you to do with as you please!

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Now, there are a few great things about this opportunity.

  1. If you have a crabby photophobic husband like mine, he will be far more likely to participate in something that will be over very quickly.  You can give him a massive guilt trip until he says yes.
    Me:  What, our family is not important enough for you to give up half an hour of your day?
  2. Couldn’t be more easy for the goofy non-model people.  Walk in, walk out.  She has heaps of ideas ready to go.  Tameka has ‘The Eye’ and knows what will look good and work for your family.  She will tell you what to do and you just need to bring the smiles and have fun.  Practice your photo face in the car on the way to the beach.
  3. Sunny or overcast, the setting could not be more beautiful.
  4. Do I really have to point out how unbelievably cheap the deal is?  $50!  That is super good.  I was pulled in to take those portrait photos in the shopping centre recently.  They were asking $80 for ONE PHOTO!  And that is it, no digital file, nothing else.  Crazy.  (I remained strong though – ‘I’ll just take my free one please’) $50 and you can print, share and reprint as many times as you like.

 

I went into the shoot with a mental note of what shoots I wanted to get – the family, the kids, the boys, the babies, me and D, and little Crazy Hazey. That is 6 shots instead of 5, but I am super dooper lucky because I am good friends with Tameka’s sister, so I think she was extra generous with me.

We started off at the beach.  Unfortunately, the weather was very unkind to us.  It was as hot as Hades and blowing and absolute gale.  Hair blowing everywhere, sand all up in our eyes, babies crying.  We got a few shots in but decided to do a re-shoot in the park on a less windy day.  But don’t worry, weather looks good for 2 weeks time.  I checked.

Here are some photos from both locations.  I think you will agree that they both make a spectacular backdrop.  I personally love the green woodland type background more than the beach!  But don’t worry, if you like the trees better too, I am pretty sure Tameka is planning another event like this in a park soon.  How lucky am I?  I kind of got a 2 for 1 deal!  Now let’s see if I got the 6 shots I wanted…

 

The Family.

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The Kids.

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The Boys.

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The babies.

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Me and D.

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Crazy Hazey.

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Some extras.

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So there you have it.  Beautiful photos once again.  Thank you very much Tameka!  Please, if you are on the Gold Coast or planning to visit on the 16th and have half an hour up your sleeve to create some lasting memories, or just looking for a great photographer, do yourself a favour and call Tameka from Tree Pretty Photography.  You won’t be sorry!

Which ones do you like?

Operation Find My Hot Bod – A Food Update.

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I wanted to write this post last night, but my husband insisted that I go to bed early.  He wouldn’t even let me take my phone with me, in case I sneaky stayed up on Facebook and Pinterest.  He says I get super moody when I’m tired and don’t get enough sleep and he is right.  I’m like a super grump, and probably a total bitch to live with.  D is a rock star though, because I got plenty of shut eye and feel a million times better today.  Thanks D, I love you.

I want to update on how much weight I HAVEN’T lost and how ‘Operation Find My Hot Bod’ is going.  I was hoping it would be going better, but I guess at my age I need to be happy to loose it real slow.

 

So, two things I was looking at changing.  One – eating less crap, more good stuff.  Two – Exercise.  30 day Shred and the Couch 2 5k.

 

Let’s look at food today.  I began doing really well and was entering everything I ate into My Fitness Plan and counting all my calories.  I was trying to eat good stuff and avoid the naughty stuff.  Then we ran out of food in the house and I had some cinnamon toast (with a heap of sugar).

That’s it.  That’s the end of the story.  I now have a problem with cinnamon toast.  The problem is, it is too damn good!  And the problem is, I can’t stop eating it.  And the problem is, it’s a slippery slope.  It starts with just a slice, then two, then some chocolate and soda and before you know it you have spiralled out of control and are chasing a full habit of peanut butter and nutella.  Straight from the jar!

So I have fallen off the healthy eating wagon a bit.  Already.  But this post will hopefully serve a purpose, and that is to publicly shame myself into a cinnamon toast detox.  I really struggle with food.  I like it too much and have trouble maintaining healthy eating long term, especially when there is so much baaaaad stuff in the house.  And especially since it is so much easier and faster to grab a mint slice, than to make a salad sandwich.  I’m time poor.  My minutes where a toddler isn’t clinging to my leg are few.  I used the last of the vegetables in dinner the other night and still haven’t gone shopping to replenish the fridge.  We do have KitKats though.

It is also self destructive when I have lunch at my bff’s house and she sends my home with this:

Nigella Lawson chocolate cake with icing on the top AND in the middle!

Nigella Lawson chocolate cake with icing on the top AND in the middle!

And instead of saying, ‘no thanks, I am trying to make healthier choices.’  I say, ‘yes please!’  And then think how I can eat it all before D and the boys get home.

I didn’t, by the way.  Well, not ALL of it.

 

That is pretty much where I am at with food.  I need a proper kick up the backside!  Some days I eat moderately well and others, I would rather not say.  What I can say is this – I can, and I WILL do better.

Magical Milestones – First tooth, first food.

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I am not sure how this happened but H is now 6 months old.  How did that happen?  Did I blink?

 

Here I was blissfully unaware that my little baby was getting older while nursing her, and flipping through the pages of a mothering magazine (bought for me by my super thoughtful husband) (actually, is he trying to send me a message that my mothering is no good?) (do I really need to know the ’10 top tips from a second time mums’?) when I am confronted my a Heinz Baby Food ad, and then BAM it hit me – I need to think about feeding H food!

This was a couple of weeks ago and the main reason for a mercy dash to IKEA.  Any excuse to go to IKEA is valid.  I purchased myself a new high chair and a few months supply of dish scrubbing brushes.  Enough to get me through until my next IKEA run anyway.  I ate the meatballs with lingonberry sauce.  As always.

 

When I announced to the family that H would be starting solids soon, J responded with, ‘but she hasn’t got any teeth.’  Well spotted J, but babies don’t need teeth to eat.  I think he thought I was going to give her crisp carrot sticks or something.  Anyway, his point is moot, as she cut her first tooth on Saturday, 1 day before her first taste of food.  1 day after her half birthday.

It is not easy to photograph the teensiest of teensy little  teeth but I believe you can juuuuust see it poking through here.

It is not easy to photograph the teensiest of teensy little teeth but I believe you can juuuuust see it poking through here.

 

There are actually two things you need to introduce your baby to once they start solids.  One is of course food, the other is water.  Exclusively breastfeed babies don’t need water because they get whatever they need from your magical boobs, but once they start eating food they need water to stop their poos from turning into cement.  No-one likes to poo out cement.  Think about it, if you had a liquid diet, say you drank vodka for breakfast, lunch and dinner and then someone fed you a pub roast dinner, your butt would get all bunged up too.

 

Now comes the food time.  What do I feed her and how do I do it?  Do I go down the Traditional Weaning route with purees, or try the Baby Led Weaning where she eats finger food and feeds herself?  I have decided to do a mix of the two, as I did with T.  I am going to do Hazel Led Weaning.

Hazel (or insert the name of YOUR baby here ____) Led Weaning goes like this – you spoon feed your baby some stuff, while they play with and attempt to feed themselves some other stuff.  I figure this is the best of both worlds.  You can make sure they are getting some food into their belly with the spoon, while allowing them the opportunity to try and coordinate their hands and mouth, and maybe, just maybe munch on something in the process.

For these first few days, all I am doing is really just trying to let her know that other things can go into her mouth and they taste funny.  I am letting her play with a spoon, and she likes that a lot.  I am not really all that fussed yet if she is eating, it is just discovery at the moment.

Here she is discovering her first taste of something other than boob:

Whoa Mumma!  What is that?  That don't taste like boob, or my thumb!

Whoa Mumma! What is that? That don’t taste like boob, or my thumb!

OK, it's not that bad.  I'll take 2 spoons please.

OK, it’s not that bad. I’ll take 2 spoons please.

Theo watches, like a dude.

Theo watches, like a dude.

 

The next part of the food introduction phase is the ‘watch out for the horrid change in poo consistency and smell’ part.  This part I am not looking forward to.  So far, after 1 day of the tiniest bit of food that got in her mouth, poo remains the same.  I know this because last night H pooed in the bath.

Does anyone remember that T liked to poo in the bath?  Well, H is following in the brothers footsteps.  Except she does it 18464 times more often then he did!

 

It usually goes like this:

Fun, fun, fun!  Two babies in the bath!  Splish, splash, splosh!  Bubbles come from H’s butt.  Uhoh.  Is it just a fart?  Wait….  Nope, just a fart!  Splish, splash, splosh, fun resumes.  And then shhhhplurggge…  H giggles.  Wth?  Oh crap, H crapped in the bath.  ‘D!!!! quick H shat in the bath again!!!’  ‘T, time to get out!’  (rinse off T with water from upstream)  Throw baby #1 at husband.  Grab baby #2, rinse her off.  Rush off and get babies dressed for bed.  Come back to clean bath, by which time it has become a swamp of orange poo floaters.

Joy of joys.

 

One day in the (hopefully) not too distant future, my babies will learn that poos are best done on the toilet so their mummy needn’t wash poo out of baths no more.

The Shared Room – Part 2.

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We left off here.  It was the first night of the babies sharing a room.  I published that post and woke up to a dead computer.  My old mate has now been revived and I need to update you on the shared room shenanigans.

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That first night was pretty good.  I hardly slept a wink, as I was sure every little noise from either baby was going to wake the other one, so I was on a continual state of stand-by mode.  I was ready to run in there and pounce on the noisy baby, and to whip them away faster than you can say ‘omgdontwakeyoursleepingbrother/sister!’  D of course slept through.

H started stirring around 4am.  She probably would have settled herself back to sleep but I wasn’t willing to risk it.  I scooped her out of bed and boobed her.  T snored through the ordeal.  Once I got her back to bed I was able to snag myself an extra hour sleep before T woke up and started to call out, ‘Mum, Mum, Mum!’  This was at 5:30am, and I consider that to be a pretty good first night (for them anyway).

I always find it a little insulting that T wakes up and calls out to me, but the first thing he says when I drag my sleepy butt out of bed and into his room is, ‘Dad?’

 

The following day we had family visiting.  T’s aunty asked him to show her his room.  Off he ran and turned left down the hallway to his new room, where he ran up to his cot, banged it and said, ‘Bed!’  That said to me, he understood the room change and had accepted his new room.  This whole shared room thingy had to work because it would just be too hard on him to change back now.

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I need not have worried.  Even the day time nap has been mostly smooth sailing.  H just does her own thing and T tries to talk to her until he gets bored of the one way conversation and chats to his bears for a bit, before falling asleep too.  We listen out for sibling rivalry on the baby monitor but there has been none.  What we do hear is this – ‘Haaadel, Haaadel, Haaadel, Haaaaaaaaadel.  Mum.  Mum.  Dad.  Haaadel.  (gurgle from H)  Kai?  Kai?  Haaadel.  Jai.  Cat.  Mum?  Haaadel.  Dad, Dad, Dad…….’  Silence.  Snores commence.

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It is not perfect, they do wake each other up, but usually around general wake up time anyway.  But seriously, who has two babies and has perfect sleepers all the time anyway?  I have it good.  I know I have it good.  My babies are rock stars.

 

I have not done a lot with the room design yet.  I will get there eventually, but what I can say is that J has already turned his new room into a bomb site.  Seriously!  And he has only lived in there for 1 week!!!  Meh, dirty teenage boys!  At least he can now stop terrorising K with his ‘personal grooming’ habits.

Today I narrowly avoided divorce. Husband takes down and reassembles cot.

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K and J are, as you know, 12 and 13.  Teenagers.  I have one word to say about that – Puberty.  And raging hormones.  And hair in weird places.  All that surging testosterone zinging all over the place can make current living arrangements unpleasant at time.  12 and 13 year olds sharing a room is tough.

It was always our intention to give the medium doodles their own room.  Teenage boys need privacy.  They need their own special happy zone to fantasise about Taylor Swift or whoever teenage boys are  masturbating over these days.  We just needed them to continue sharing until the babies were on a solid sleep all night schedule, and then we could move them in together and separate the boys.  I was thinking probably in the Christmas holidays.

Things unexpectedly came to a head recently.  Doodles had gone to bed.  I sat down at my computer for the first time all day to troll through Facebook and Pinterest – Mummy Porn, when K resurfaced saying he couldn’t sleep because J was masturbating.  Very disturbing.  In all honestly, he was ‘just pretending’ to annoy K (it worked), but he probably had a little happy time enjoyment (can’t believe I am saying this and it gives me the heebeejeebees just thinking about it) at the same time.

 

Crisis talks.

Me:  OMG K said J is pulling the pud!  WTF am I supposed to do with that information?

D: (Laughs at me) (jerk)

Me:  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

D:  Time to give them their own rooms I think.

Me:  (Panicking)  Boys need Privacy yes, I get it, but I’m not ready!  How will this impact MY SLEEP?  I fear change! (hyperventilate)

 

This all happened a few weeks ago and I have done nothing but think about the whole room switch around ever since.  T will move into H’s room and J will move into T’s.  Sounds simple enough right?  Wrong.

What happens to SLEEP?  Will the babies start to wake each other up at night?  Will this kick start the mother of all sleep regressions?  Will they stay up gossiping about boobs and Elmo into the wee hours of the morning?  And more importantly what am I going to do about redecorating the room?

You want me to share my room?  As long as you don't want me to share my blankie.

You want me to share my room? As long as you don’t want me to share my blankie.

 

So it is now the September holidays.  It is time for ‘Operation move Theo into Hazel’s Room’.  We thought we would move T first and give it a week to see how it goes.  If all goes well we’ll separate the boys then.  If it is a complete disaster and T and H party all night and I become the walking dead, then T goes back and we re-evaluate in a few months.

I’ve been talking to T about the big move for a few days.  I always ask him if he understands and he say ‘eees’.  Today I thought, no more talking.  Let’s just do this thing.  Now here comes the divorce part.

 

D is on holidays right, so I find him laying on the couch watching Ready Steady Cook.

Me:  Hun, can you please come and help me move the T’s cot into H’s room quickly before Judge Judy?

D:  What, you mean now?

Me:  Well, yes.  H needs a nap soon so now would be the time.

 

We start to carry cot out of the room.  I get my end through the door.  Other end gets stuck.  We try again.  Stuck.  Damn.

 

D:  It’s going to have to be pulled apart. (audible sigh)

Me:  Ahhh crap.  (sensing D’s frustration levels rising)  You go watch Judge Judy (best wife award) and I’ll do it.

D:  No I’LL do it.  (best husband award)

 

A very clumsy disassemble of the cot happens.  T is getting very excited.  He wants to help which is adorable but more of a hindrance.  We get all the pieces down into H’s room.  T comes too, as does H.  I have put this cot up and taken it down several times on my own so I know how it goes and I know it is easier with 2 people.  I offer to help.  D is grumpy (missing Judge Judy) and tells me the best way I can help is to take the babies away and he will do it on his own.  I comply.  Cue much banging and swearing from bedroom.  He is gone for a while, but I can hear him muttering under his breath and slamming stuff around on the baby monitor and I can feel his exasperation as he can’t get the stupidfuckinggoddamn screws in.  I take the babies outside and try to make them as quiet and angelic as possible.  Finally he is done and he comes back and gives me that look.  You know the one.  The ‘I’m going to kill you dead’ look.  He resumes couch position.  I tell him how wonderful and awesome he is and love on him.  T giggles and hugs him and H rolls over.  Marriage is saved.  Judge Judy is over.

 

Now that is all done, I get T to help me bring some of his favourite things into the new room and tell him he is going to sleep in H’s room now.  He is super excited and wants to get in and out of his cot.  In and out.  In and out.  Things are looking good.

Heading towards bedtime I begin to panic, but I needn’t have.  T went to bed quite happily.  He talked to himself and his bears for about 10 mins and then went to sleep.  I finished nursing H and then took her in.  T stayed asleep.  H was sleepy and murmured to herself for a few minutes and then she went to sleep too.  T didn’t wake up! No one cried, no one screamed, no one danced around in their cot like a crazy baby.

So far so good.  It’s been 3 hours and they haven’t woken each other up yet.  Fingers crossed for me please!  Tomorrow may be fun.  Not sure how we will go with the middle of the day nap.  That could be tricky.  Please if you have any advice or words of wisdom about babies sharing rooms please impart!

I will start taking nursery redecorating pictures soon and post when it is done.

Wait.

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Finally the ‘sick’ has left our house, after infecting each one of us in turn.  At the moment we are all relatively healthy and I cling onto every strand of hope that we stay that way.  Having one sick baby is hard enough.  Two sick babies is no joke.  Throw in the mix two sick medium doodles and a husband with a serious case of man flu, while feeling like death yourself, and you’ve got a whole crap sandwich with a side order of barf.

I’d been waiting for the sick to pass so I could catch up on my lost sleep before getting reacquainted with my blog.  An now Blog, and my friends, I am feeling refreshed and you will have to wait no more.

 

The word wait is a fairly common word.  It is used in many contexts.  Wait for me.  Wait for the bus.  Wait at the traffic lights.  Wait for the kettle to boil.  But I have found that lately, especially in recent months, I have used it in excess.

 

Wait! Come back here with that toilet paper!

No T, wait until Mummy is finished on the toilet before flushing it for me.

Yeah and ideally, it’s best to wait until I have stood up before trying to close the lid.  Yep, if it didn’t close the first 10 times you tried, what makes you think it is going to close the next 384 times?  Mum’s body is still in the way, but good on you for being persistent.

T wait!  Don’t unlock the toilet door yet, Mummy isn’t finished!

Wait!  I haven’t put your nappy on yet!  OK, fine be naked for all I care.  (sigh of exasperation)

H, why do you wait until I take you nappy off to wee on your change table?  Go on have a giggle.  Lucky you are so cute.

And now, H, why do you wait until I put a fresh nappy on to poo in it?

Yes H, I can hear you but you have to wait until I finish with T.

Yes T, I can hear you but you have to wait until I finish with H.

Oh my gawd, can you wait until I’m ready to catch you before you launch yourself off the couch onto me?

Sweetheart, I know you are hungry but I can’t feed you and drive at the same time you just have to wait.

Can you wait 5  minutes before your next tantrum?  I need to recuperate.

Minecraft can just wait until you have cleaned that pigsty you call your room (yes, I have become my mother).  And while you’re at it, do your homework!

Look K, you can be a big boy and make your own sandwich, or you can just wait until I am finished nursing H.  Yes I know that I make the best sandwiches, but come on Dude, seriously it’s just two bits of bread with stuff inside.  How are you ever going to be a good a sandwich maker if you never practice.  To quote Adventure Time, ‘sucking at something is the first step toward being sort of good at something.’

Dishes can wait.

Vacuuming can wait.

Sometimes showering has to wait.  Cleanliness isn’t all that important is it?

Sorry D, you have to wait until I hang the nappies out for snoo snoo.

 

Just wait, wait, wait, wait wait.

I am only ONE PERSON!

 

I am trying my darndest to be a patient person and for the most part I think I do pretty well.  I do loose my cool from time to time and then beat myself up for it but I have come to realise that I am doing the best I can and that is good enough.  I love my all my doodles and my corn chip to the moon and back and wouldn’t have life any other way.

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Escapades at the baby expo.

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On Sunday, I packed up my 2 babies and drove to Brisbane with my mum to go to the Baby Expo.  D doesn’t come with me to these types of things because he would rather drive a sharp pencil through his ear into his brain.  I left him at home with the medium doodles to have a day of rest and relaxation without babies, hoping that he will return the favour soon.  Well at least take all the doodles out and just leave me with the baby that sleeps.

Doing the expo with 2 babies is no joke.  Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster I had my mum with me because I would have lost my shit had I been on my own.  Seriously impossible.  For one thing, T is not a big fan of being contained in any one spot for too long.  Like the pram.  Or the teeny tiny playpen with 1 toy xylophone, missing its wooden mallet in the baby change area.  Or a chair.

The thing about expos is there are thousands of people, so it necessary keep your toddlers contained or they will run off into oblivion, never to be seen again.  So, how does one keep a flighty T happy in his pram?  Food.  A crap load of food.  All the good stuff he likes – cake, cookies, treats, whisky, cigars (and sneak in some healthy food too).  And balloons.  ‘What’s that T?  You want to get out and run around?  Here, have a block of chocolate.  And a balloon.’

 

I typically don’t do all that well in situations where there are a lot of people and lots of noise, and even though I love to go to an expo to see all the things and get some bargains, doing so can be a very traumatic experience.  Throw in half a million prams all going in opposite directions and it is my idea of hell.  Expos should be a one way only traffic zone, like IKEA.  I said to Mum on the way up to Brisbane, ‘I am going to do my very best to remain calm today.  Cranky Mummy has been left at home.  Chilled Mummy is here to stay and she will not swear.’  My mum is well versed in my crowd anxiety issues.

I am pleased to say that Cranky Mummy didn’t show her face, she almost did, but I took a few deep breaths and told her to F off.  That was fudge off by the way, because I didn’t swear.  Honest.  Like when we got a coffee to relax with while watching the Elmo and Cookie Monster Show.  Did I say relax?  Yeah right.  This is what I think goes on in T’s head:

 

A chair, let me sit on it!  The floor, let me sit on it!  Run run, spin around!  Funny Mummy, look it’s Elmo!  Mum’s coffee, I want!  What, can’t have?  How about Yaya’s coffee?  Oooo another baby, hello stranger, can I poke your baby in the eye?  Mum is nursing Hazel, I’m going to climb on her lap.  Cookie Monster ate a cookie.  Can I have a cookie?  Oh look, a gap between Mum and the pram, I’m going to squeeeeeze through and then RUN as far as I can!  I’m going to scream now.  Hey, give me some of your prawn wrap!  Yuck, that’s not a cookie!  Haha, you put down your coffee, whoops, too slow…

 

And it goes on and on and on…  Until that is, I can breathe a sigh of sweet relief and strap him back in the pram for the next stint.  ‘Here T, have a cupcake.’

 

The expo was actually well thought out and there were lots of places we could stop and let T blow off steam.  He owned the changing/nursing area like a boss with his little lackey (aka my mum) running around after him while I fed H.  We were able to pull up a pew while he played in the play zone and watched the Sesame Street Show.  Apparently there were ‘rest zones’ situated around the expo but we couldn’t find them.  Most importantly there was coffee.  And wide isles.  And lots of friendly faces.  And coffee, did I mention coffee?

 

Something very cool happened to me at the expo, something I never thought would happen, but secretly wished would.  I met someone who reads my blog.  Dare I say, I met a fan?  And not just one of my friends in real life that I force to read my blog, but someone I have never met before!  Someone who reads my blog because they LIKE it and think I am a little bit funny, not because they feel obligated.

So I want to give a very personal shout out to my biggest fan Carmen, who was working on the Cushie Tushie stand on Sunday.  I knew she was going to be there as she had asked me via my FB page if I was going to the expo and that I should stop by to say hello.  I must say I felt a tad silly introducing myself.  Who do I say I am?  Sophia or The Taco?  What a dick – Hey there, you must be Carmen, I’m the Taco!  Anyway, I was very humbled by the experience.  I almost feel like a real writer.  Maybe I should have singed something for her, like a nappy?

Carmen showed me how to get a good fit on H with a Cushie Tushie.  I did try yesterday on her, honestly I did, but I still personally think they are a bit bulky on the little babies.  However, the CT certainly did its job and contained a super H poo and there were no leaks, so it is still a win.  If I run short on H nappies, I can always whack a Cushie Tushie on her and know she will be dry.  She also showed me how to use my night booster for T.  I still have my babies in disposables at night as night nappies have always scared me.  I love that my babies sleep all night and don’t want to mess with that.  Last thing I need is babies waking up cold and wet, but I think I am ready to attempt using cloth at night and now that Carmen has given me a night nappy lesson I will be doing so soon – probably tomorrow night!

 

All in all, I had a good day.  It was great to be able to simply bypass all things pregnancy and conception related and anything I already knew I wasn’t interested in or already had, like prams and nursery furniture and breast pumps.   I kept crowd frustrations at bay and didn’t run into too many crazies (and when I say ‘run into’ I mean literally run em’ over in my massive red double pram).  We came home with a sweet little haul of goodies and bargains, all of which I will tell you about in my next post.

expo

I am the Triantiwontigongolope.

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One of the most vivid memories I have from my early school days is learning a poem by C.J. Dennis, called The Triantiwontigongolope.  I remember learning and singing this poem verse by verse and then writing it in my very bestest of best handwriting in my anthology book and then illustrating it with care.  I loved this poem so much and still to this day, whenever I am feeling like I have failed at something, I recite the Triantiwontigongolope in my head, tell myself to toughen up, take my concrete pill and have another go.  In fact, I say to my kids, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, then Tri, Triantiwonti, Triantiwontigongolope.’  They look at my like I have lost my freaking mind, but there you have it – a life lesson for all.

It’s funny actually because as a kid that is the message that I took away from the poem – don’t give up, but when I re-read it nowadays, it is really just about a made up insect.  I like my take on the poem better.  Break down your goals into smaller achievable goals and soon you will have your success!  Like learning to spell triantiwonigongolope…

 

Here is C.J. Dennis’ masterpiece in its entirety:

The Triantiwontigongolope

There’s a very funny insect that you do not often spy,
And it isn’t quite a spider, and it isn’t quite a fly;
It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee,
But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree.
Its name is quite a hard one, but you’ll learn it soon, I hope.
So try:
  Tri-
      Tri-anti-wonti-
        Triantiwontigongolope.

It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face;
Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace.
When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare,
But when you look for it again, you find it isn’t there.
And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope.
So try:
  Tri-
      Tri-anti-wonti-
        Triantiwontigongolope.

It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes;
It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose.
If you snear at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame,
But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name,
And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap.
So try:
  Tri-
      Tri-anti-wonti-
        Triantiwontigongolope .

But of course you haven’t seen it; and I truthfully confess
That I haven’t seen it either, and I don’t know its address.
For there isn’t such an insect, though there really might have been
If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
It’s just a little joke of mine, which you’ll forgive, I hope.
Oh, try!
  Tri-
      Tri-anti-wonti-
Triantiwontigongolope.

So what does The Triantiwontigongolope have to do with anything you ask.  What pearl of wisdom am I about to impart?  None really, I have no wisdom for you just a little story about how I failed, but tried again, and now I am Awesome Mummy.

I failed at cloth nappies.  I was a failure.  You could call me the Failure From Australia.  Past tense peeps, now I am rocking the cloth once more, and loving it.  And when I say rocking, I mean elbow deep in baby shit, because damn that sweet little girl can squirt some poo.

You may or may not have noticed that in any of the photos I have posted in the last few months, T has been wearing disposables.  Yeaaaaah, about that, I started off with the best of intentions, but then I hit 12 weeks pregnant and had to pack up house and move and decided to just have a bit of a cloth break until we got all settled again.

I wasn’t all that thrilled with the nappies I bought.  The fit wasn’t great and clothes were not going over his bulky big butt. Dave wasn’t getting on with the cloth and Mother-In-Law wouldn’t use them.  As I was working a few days a week at that time, it got a tad frustrating that I was the only one using them.  Come the end of the day, or two days there wasn’t really enough to warrant putting on a load in the washing machine, but I had to or they would stink to hell and back.  And that is a really far way.

So I kind of put them on the shelf with the thought that I would get back into it eventually.  I did have another go for about a week or so, but again, pregnancy laziness got the better of me and I shelved them.  I did however tell myself that when H came along I would absolutely start again, because 2 babies in disposables is basically like shitting on money.

There you have it – failure.  Miserable stinking failure.  If at first you don’t succeed, what do you need to do? TRI-TRIANTIWONTI-TRIANTIWONTIGONGOLOPE!

I had in my stash 12 Cushie Tushies, certainly not enough for 2 babies.  I had mentioned that I wasn’t over the moon about these nappies.  They were not a great fit for T and gaped around his waist.  They are a one size nappy that is supposed to fit from newborn until toilet trained, but I found them quite bulky for a newborn.  I decided that I was going to sell them on and buy a crap load of cheapies off eBay.  I am really really glad I didn’t!  I thought, hey, may as well give them another try seeing as though I have them.  They now fit T like a glove and never leak.  Today I changed him at 1:00 and was going to change him again at 4:00 but the kids came home from school and there was homework and snacks and babies and stuff and I just forgot.  I didn’t get to take that nappy off until before his bath at 5:45 and it was still going strong!  There was even a big ol’ poo in there hiding.  Full points to Cushie Tushie.

Look Mummy, I can put on my 'gocks'.

Look Mummy, I can put on my ‘gocks’.

But what about H?

I couldn’t afford to buy a bunch of nappies new, so I hit a buy/sell/swap page and collected a few in different styles to try at a fraction of the cost.  I wanted to see what worked best before I spent a heap of money on something that was a bad fit.

T examines the merchandise.

T examines the merchandise.

I got a few itti bitti, some BabyBeeHinds, couple of BumGenius and Bambooty.

I must say that I haven’t fallen in love with the ittis.  These seem to be a really popular nappy because they are super cute and a trim fit.  They really are gorgeous and you can put normal baby clothes over them but these leak on H.  I can’t do them up tight enough around her legs without chopping her in half with the back elastic.  I would really like to keep my baby in one piece, thank you.

Itti D'lish Snap in Ones (Mediums).  Gorgeous, but no the right fit yet.  maybe when she puts on some chubb on her skinny legs.

Itti D’lish Snap in Ones (Mediums). Gorgeous, but no the right fit yet. maybe when she puts on some chubb on her skinny legs.  Also snap in inserts are fiddly and a pain, but make drying faster.

Itti D'lish All In Ones (small).  Same as the mediums - too loose around legs and too tight around belly.  Not a lot of size difference between the two.  Even though these are AIO, there is still a flap which makes them not as easy as disposables (not Dad-proof).

Itti D’lish All In Ones (small). Same as the mediums – too loose around legs and too tight around belly. Not a lot of size difference between the two. Even though these are AIO, there is still a flap which makes them not as easy as disposables (not Dad-proof).

The BabyBeeHinds are pretty good.  They seem to be much more comfortable but are a bigger nappy.  I still have had a few leaks with this one but not as much as the ittis and they take forever to dry.  Generally though, I am happy with these.

I haven’t tried the Bambooty yet, but I LOVE LOVE LOVE the BumGenius 4.0.  These are a one size nappy and they are really light and squishy.  They take up more butt space that the trim ittis, but because they are lovely and soft seem to be less bulky.  But the best part is they are virtuously leak proof, poonami proof even and are super fast to dry.  Seriously, these have no problem lasting 3/4 hours – and that is only with the smaller newborn insert!  They rock.  Only bad thing is I only have 2.  Sad face.

If I can’t get on with the ittis, I might have to sell them to finance some more BumGenius.  They, in my opinion are the ants pants of nappies.  The ducks nuts.  The cats meow.  I want moooore!

BumGenius 4.0 - pockets.  So far these are perfect.  They also come in some gorgeous prints but I don't have any of these.  Cry.  I want to try them with snaps.

BumGenius 4.0 – pockets. So far these are perfect. They also come in some gorgeous prints but I don’t have any of these. Cry. I want to try them with snaps.

I am so glad that I gave cloth another go.  I am really loving having my babies in gorgeous, money saving, tree hugging nappies.  Now that I am not loading up our wheelie bin with mountains of disposables, we can actually fit our kitchen waste in there.  I figure we have at the very least another 2 years of babies in nappies, if I can keep this up I will save this family a squillion dollars.  Then maybe I can wax my legs and dye my grey hair.

Things I have learnt:

  • Cushie Tushies ‘Poo Catcher’ does exactly what is says it does.
  • Fiddly bits and fold in flaps are a pain with an acrobatic toddler.
  • All in one styles that go on like a disposable are the only ones husbands will attempt to use.
  • Drying times can be a bitch in crap weather.
  • Cloth are deceptively good at masking the stink of poo.  Surprise!
  • Pocket style are my all round favourite because they are simple and pull apart for fast drying.
  • I love pretty things but not as much as I love things that do not leak.
  • Baby comfort is more important than looking good.
  • Velcro will ruin everything in your wash if you forget to put down the laundry tabs.
  • Snaps are the best but suck when your baby is an in between size.
  • People will pay top dollar for a pretty nappy or limited edition print, even if they are just going to be shit in.
  • Cloth nappies are addictive.
  • My favourites thus far?  Cushie Tushie and BumGenius.

See?  I failed, but I tried again and now I am a rock star.  And my babies can shit in style.

Thank you C.J. Dennis.

Yes T, that is her eye.

Yes T, that is her eye.

P.S. You can read my other posts about cloth here, here and here.

Mother’s Day and Minecraft.

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Yesterday was Mother’s Day and once I had gotten both babies to sleep I opted to try and catch a few extra zzzzs rather than write this post (it didn’t work by the way, I am eternally short on zzzzs).  So here is my big shout out to all the mummies, albeit a day late.  Mums rock.

 

mothers day

Pleasantries aside, let me tell you about my Mother’s Day.

It all started with a crying baby.  Nothing unusual there.  I dragged myself out of bed to nurse H.  She went back to sleep so I fell back into bed.  Cue T waking up.  Wonderful husband hops up to get T out of bed and leaves me to try and get some more of those elusive zzzzs.  So far so good, I like the way this Mother’s Day is starting.

H doesn’t sleep for too long before she is up and ready to start the day, but that is ok.  Both the big boys are on the computer playing Minecraft.  They say happy Mother’s Day to me without taking their eyes from the computer screen.  Again, nothing unusual there.  We have a couple of Minecraft addicts.  K especially.

Anywhoo, D is giving T his breakfast so I make a coffee and go to join them.  I get plenty of MD love and cuddles from D, and from T I get a vegemite smear on my pyjamas.  D disappears for a moment to I assume round up the boys to come and give me my gazillion presents but comes back alone and annoyed.

It seems that when tapped on the shoulder (he was wearing headphones), K slammed down the headphones, swung around all angry like with eyes glaring and says, ‘WHAT?!’  Then realising that he was going to get into some serious trouble followed it up with a hundred I’m sorrys and ran off to his room upset with himself for ruining Mother’s Day.

You see, In days gone by we have had many an issue with the boys regarding computer games.  They get all consumed by them and can’t think about anything but.  There have been plenty of games that we have banned and deleted when they got too wrapped up in them and were unable to function as normal human beings.  They cannot handle the frustrations when they die/can’t get to the next level/lose and get angry and flip out.

We originally liked Minecraft because you it wasn’t competitive, you couldn’t die, there is no nudity or swearing and no blood and guts.  You just walked around and built shit and planted trees and played with pigs.  But over time they have founds ways to make it a drama for our household.  Now they play Minecraft survival games on servers and watch Minecraft videos on YouTube and read forums.  We have again found ourselves dealing with banging mouses and kicking the back of the computer desks and little eyes that well up with tears of pre-pubescent angst.

Yesterday morning was like that, except K knows that we are on the verge of pulling the Minecraft pin and seriously his world would IMPLODE so he is trying to be super happy and calm to trick us into thinking that he is coping well.  However sometimes (like yesterday) he blows that cool facade which in turn makes Mumma Bear mad.

I found him upset in his room beating himself up for ruining my day, which of course he didn’t.  We had a  little heart to heart and have put a halt on playing on the servers and gave him a massive warning that he’s on his last Minecraft chance.  I left him to contemplate his actions and a little while later he emerges from his room with a letter…

P1100283

Fucking priceless.  I love that kid!

D and the boys then presented me with my present.  I am now the proud owner of an ALDI coffee machine and it, even though it is not a big ticket machine it makes a damn good cuppa.  Everyone I know that has one loves it and I was jealous of them.  I feel all posh and shit when I make my morning coffee now.

Aside from a coffee machine I told D what I really wanted for Mother’s Day was to have a family photo take with us ALL in it.  Grudgingly he agreed, so in the afternoon when all the mums in my family came over for an afternoon tea, I had my brother take a few photos of us in the back yard.  It wasn’t easy, but after a whole heap of photos with at least one of the boys pulling a stupid face we finally got a half decent photo of our family.

The best one.

The best one.

The worst one.

The worst one.

A nice one of me with my first born and my last born.

A nice one of me with my first born and my last born.

We had a lovely afternoon tea with my Mum, my mother-in-law, my brother and sister-in-law and their baby.  Of course it was loud and crazy and messy, but the best times often are and we wouldn’t have it any other way.  Well maybe it would be super unicorn awesome if cleaning fairies came but we all know that they do not exist.  The only cleaning fairies I know are mums.  Happy (late) Mother’s Day!