My ideal Sunday, from sunrise to sunset

Just another Sunday brekkie
Just another Sunday brekkie

I love the Sunday newspaper magazines. They are full of froth and bubble and are so easy to read while I enjoy my muesli and coffee.

One of my favourite sections is the My ideal Sunday, from sunrise to sunset section where beautiful celebrities remind us that they live in a different universe than the rest of us.

Today was Rebecca Judd’s turn.

And it got me thinking what my typical Sunday involves and how different it would be to hers.

Rebecca Judd’s ideal Sunday involves:

8am: Head to Balmain’s in Brighton (Melbourne) with my husband Chris, son Oscar (2) and newborn daughter Billie, before coming home for a play.

10am: I lock myself away to work on the week’s ideas, materials and curated design for Melbourne property developer R. Corp.

12pm: Time to stock up on fresh produce at Prahran Market (if it’s footy season, you’ll find us at the ‘G watching my husband play!).

3pm: My kids wake from their nap, then we head to the St Kilda Sea Baths for a splash. The hot spa is the best!

6pm: We go to the early session at Fazio’s or La Svolta in Hampton Street for yummy pizza done the Italian way.

My typical Sunday (today) in comparison:

7am: Get out of bed to give my son his morning carrot (don’t ask) and my daughter her oats.

7.15am: Go back to bed

8am: Head to the fridge in Warranwood, with my husband, six-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter. Go to 9am Body Combat class while husband looks after the kids.

9am to 10am: Try to avoid looking in the wall to wall mirror during my Body Combat class so I am not a witness to how unfit I have let myself become.

10.15am: Time to stock up on fresh produce at Coles. Look like I’ve been dragged through a bush backwards and then drenched with a hose (if it’s footy season, you’ll find me at the exact same place).

10.35am: Arrive home. Husband heads off for a swim. I think we say hello and goodbye to each other.

11.15am: After shower, take kids for a quick walk in the sunshine.

12:30pm: Head into the kitchen for some yummy leftover pizza lunch done the Dominos’ way

3pm: My kids come in to the house after eating an ice cream outside, then we head to the bathroom for a splash, but not before they wipe their faces on their clothes. The hot water on the facewasher is the best!

4pm: I make cookies for the kids’ play lunches. Then I make some minestrone soup for later in the week.

6pm: We go the early session at the dining table for a meal the kids won’t eat. So they get some of the minestrone soup.

6.30pm to 7.45pm: We all watch The Block.

7.45pm: Struggle to get the kids to bed.

See? Rebecca Judd and me: like two peas in a pod!



Better than McDonald’s!

I am a shadow of my former self. I am exhausted and have had to have a nana nap today to try to take the edge off.

partyNo, I haven’t done just returned from an overseas trip; nor am I recovering from a night out on the town.

I am actually recovering from my six-year-old son’s mini birthday party!

I wasn’t brave enough to have a full Prep class party, so we kept the invite list to two friends. Three little boys seemed like a manageable number. And it was – until the sugar high hit.

My goodness. I knew sugar affected children, but this little group began buzzing about like three little flies that had just been sprayed with Mortein.

Luckily, we were at a local park, so they could run, run, run; and run some more in the large open spaces.

We tried to have a soccer match, but the pitch became wider and longer with each kick. There were tears when someone stopped the ball, and tears when someone kicked the ball. And tears when two of the little boys were so intent on getting the ball that they crunched heads with a sickening thud.

We tried to have a sack race, but for some reason the concept of jumping in a straight line from the start to finish was a bit hard to comprehend, so it degenerated into utter chaos.

We had a treasure hunt that almost turned into the Hunger Games; so intent were they being the last one standing with ALL the treasure.

After two hours, I was spent and had run out of ideas. Luckily that was the precise moment when the party ended.

I wasn’t sure if it had been a success until I heard one partygoer exclaim to their parents “This party was better than McDonald’s!”

Phew. My work here is done.

Not funny

I don’t like my body’s sense of humour.

It’s doing stuff that, quite frankly, I don’t find funny.

For example, it thinks it’s hilarious that as I get older, it is hiding fat in different parts of my body. Like a sick game of hide and seek.

I always had a slight muffin top when overweight, but now it’s more of a inflatable ring around my waist – not just confined to a bit of overflow at the sides; but an overflow all around.

And my body is absolutely laughing itself silly every time I put on a slightly fitted top and turn around to see not just bra fat, but a roll of fat between the bra fat and the muffin top!

ImageAnd I can hear it smirking when I notice some bumpy cellulite on my upper arms, despite doing lot and lots of push up and dips and bicep curls.

“Ha, Ha, Ha,” it says ” You can try to lose weight and exercise, but I have other plans. Mou-hah-hah (evil laugh).”

And it thinks the way it wobbles around like jelly on a plate when I am doing exercises is a real rib tickler!

How am I dealing with all this?

I am stamping my little feet (feeling everything wobble) and yelling out:




International Women’s Day and how some people don’t care

Angie Pantazi:

Let’s all look after one another and stop the horrific cycle of domestic violence. A wonderful blog by Kate Forster.

Originally posted on What Party?:


I live in a nice area of Melbourne. Nice in the way I mean that ugly things don’t happen here in out in public. It’s a million dollar suburb, and a million dollars buys your privacy and silence. That was until last Thursday night.

The shouting started before I went to bed. I was tired. I ignored it. The shouting between a man and a woman. They sounded young. Just a couple fighting, I thought. Then the shouting became louder, and more intense. It was hard to make out the words as they passed our fence. We have a big fence. Most of the houses here have the same fences. It’s that old privacy thing again. The yelling continued down the road until it was out of earshot, so I rolled over in bed and slept.

I was awoken an hour later by the same yelling. The venom in his…

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Blog envy

I haven’t posted for weeks.

I wish I had a great excuse like:

“I’ve been working on my latest novel.”

“I’ve been building homes for the homeless.”

“I’ve been cleaning the house from top to bottom.”

“I’ve been crocheting and knitting a new winter wardrobe for my children.”

But the truth is, I have been reading so many great blog posts lately that I’ve been struck down by blog envy.

I’ve caught myself thinking, “Why are you even bothering? You could never write as well as [insert name].”

So if you could all please stop being so prolific and writing so eloquently, I would really appreciate it.


Thank goodness that’s over!

anti-valentinesAfter a not-so-great Valentine’s Day, I’ve got some suggestions for a new range of realistic Valentine’s Day cards:

  • Happy Valentine’s Day. Let’s try not to annoy each other.
  • You’ll do for now. Happy Valentine’s Day!
  • Here’s a rose, bah, blah, blah. Happy Valentine’s Day!
  • I’m right. You’re wrong. We both know it. Happy Valentine’s Day!

As you can tell, I’m not the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. All that forced niceness and romance makes me queasy.

I remember how wrapped up I was in Valentine’s Day when I was in high school.

All that anxious anticipation of whether you had a secret admirer; or better yet, sharing the day with an actual boyfriend! Love poems (awful ones), white teddy bears holding hearts that say ‘I Wuv You’, and declarations of undying devotion. Ah, young love.

Fast forward to 2014.

My husband and I argued on 13 February which made writing the Valentine’s Day card a bit tricky.

You can imagine how hard it is to write something mushy and lovey dovey when you are still seething (about something very trivial in hindsight).

And on the day itself – 14 February – we only had time for a quick “Happy Valentines Day” before we raced off to work and took the kids to school.

Then that night we celebrated the day of love by going out to a noisy, crowded family restaurant with our kids for pizza.

Our kids were tired after a long week of school; our 5-year-old son was grizzly and restless; and the service was not great. Our son then decided to end the night was a loud, screaming tantrum as we dragged him out of the restaurant to the car.

Happy Valentine’s Day to us! Ugh.

Hope you all had a Hallmark-worthy Valentine’s Day!

Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Toddlers

What My Kids Do During the 30 Seconds It Takes Me to Leave the Room and Pee: A Non-Exhaustive List

Angie Pantazi:

I think we can all relate to this! I remember having to time going to the toilet to coincide with the time it took my baby to crawl to the bathroom to find me! And leaving the room for one second, only to return to find my little boy balancing precariously on the top of the couch, almost falling into the glass window behind him. Ah, the joys!

Originally posted on Twinfamy:

Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Toddlers

1. Get into a fistfight over a Lego

2. Get into a fistfight over a sticker

3. Get into a fistfight over a toy we’ve bought two of so they won’t fistfight over it

4. Steal Daddy’s phone

5. Get into a fistfight over Daddy’s phone

6. Reply to emails from Daddy’s dissertation chair with gibberish

7. Break something, causing a fistfight

8. Break something, during a fistfight

9. Climb onto the kitchen table

10. Go streaking

11. Dump out the dog’s water dish and claim to be ice-skating

12. Empty the toybox I just spent a half hour filling while they sat on their asses singing “Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere” and contributed a single toy between the two of them

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A holiday from my life

In about two hours, my holidays will be up. For the past week and a bit, I have been on leave and it has been pure, unadulterated bliss!

I am normally a full time working mother and my normal life is busy, busy, busy. So having Old-Suitcase-with-Travel-Stickers2this time off from work has been amazing!

I have been able to walk the kids to school and back; to prepare healthy snacks for them when they got home; and to spend time with them to chat about their day. It has been extra special because my little boy started school this year.

The highlights:

A quiet house

How nice is it to walk in to an empty, quiet house?

Oh, joy! The air almost tingles with peace and quiet.

Time to myself

On average, I normally have the house to myself for about one hour a month.

And the only time I normally have time to myself is the 15 minutes from work to home each day. So being able to just ‘be’ was amazing.

No plans

Like most working parents with two small children, my life is mapped out with military precision.

But not in the past week and a bit!

After dropping the kids off at school, I would walk home in the sunshine, let myself in to the empty house and do an inner happy dance. What would I do today? Where would I go? And the answer was: anything and anywhere (until 3.30pm).

Breaking Bad

I watched Series 1 and 2. It was ace. ‘Nuff said!

Exercise? Bah!

I have not done one speck of exercise apart from walking the kids to school and back.

In my normal life, I usually get up at about 5.30am every second morning or so, to get to the gym by 6am so I am home by 7am.

But I refused to do anything that would bear any semblance to my normal life – and that included exercise.

Sure, I’ve put on weight. And sure I feel sluggish and stiff.

But in a childish way I also enjoyed blowing a raspberry to what I “should” be doing!

Yeah, I know exercise should be part of your daily routine..blah, blah, blah…snore… but I dinna wanna do it! So ner!

Of course, it all ends tomorrow! Boo hoo.

Dabbling in interior design

While I was enjoying my time in my wonderfully quiet empty house, I would take a style audit of the rooms and decide what I needed to give them a lift.

So I bought new photo frames, cushions, glassware and throws.

I moved items from one room to another where they worked better and even bought a few interior design books and magazines!

My husband can’t wait for me to get back to work so I can stop banging on about aqua v teal cushions, and whether we need to add shelves or a print above the TV. Talk about First World problems!

It’s all over now

Yes, it’s all over and it was a wonderful glimpse into the life of being a stay-at-home Mum with both kids at school.

Although I know that if that was my normal life, it wouldn’t be as much fun. Instead, I can imagine it would be more about taking the children to and from after school activities, and running errands, plus lots more!

But who needs reality at a time like this?

The Facebook Mum from hell

I was the Facebook Mum from hell yesterday!

It was my little boy’s first day at school and I was determined to score the perfect Facebook shot. You know the one. Where your child is beaming in their new uniform and they are giving you an enormous hug, and everyone is full of love and anticipation.

A few of my friends had already posted pictures just like that, and I was determined to outshine them all!

Yeah, first day of school for me. And, yeah, this is my big sister. And yeah, what's the big deal?
Yeah, first day of school for me. And, yeah, this is my big sister. And yeah, what’s the big deal?

But I had forgotten to tell my son.

He didn’t want a bar of it, and in each shot he was grumpy, snarly and fiddly.

So of course I did what any sane, calm mother would do. I yelled at him to SMILE and GIVE ME A GOOD PHOTO!

And when yelling didn’t work, I pleaded and begged for one little smile – just one teeny weeny grin. Anything so he wasn’t looking like he was hating every second.

And I am ashamed to admit that I got so carried away, that I actually told him he had wrecked the day for me and had hurt my feelings.

Oh dear, it was not my finest moment and I am truly ashamed of myself. I was a woman possessed.

The money shot.
The money shot.

Of course,  once we got to school and there was no mention of trying to get the perfect photo, everyone relaxed and we got the pic!

Thankfully, we ended on a high note and my little boy was wonderfully forgiving (and forgetful) and didn’t hold a grudge against his silly Mum who lost her head for a second.

I hope all the Preps out there had a wonderful first day of school (and that you all managed to smile in the photos – or else!).

Dear son: IOU $13.75

My husband and I just had a great giggle at our son’s expense. It was one of those rare moments of one-upmanship when the scores are very much PARENTS: 1 KID:0.

You see, my husband really wanted to get a photo of our son playing with the hose outside on a sunny day. But our son would not do it until we gave him $10 because he is saving up for some Lego! Did I mention he is five-years-old?

I’m rich, I tells ya!

For the last few few days, we have been trying to encourage him to do it for free, but he remained adamant that he wanted $10 or it was no pic. Our daughter kindly offered to be in the photo for $20. These two are going to be great in the finance game one day.

Today was another hot day and again, we asked our son to be in the pic. When he said no again, I had a lightbulb moment (thanks, Oprah).

He doesn’t understand the concept of money. He doesn’t know that 10x 10 cent pieces equals $1. He thinks each coin is worth $1.

I shared this insight with my husband, who promptly reached into the change jar, grabbed a handful of silver and said to our son, “Here you go. Here is your money.”

Our son quickly ran to the table to count the money before he agreed to be in the photo.

And there he was, excitedly counting out every piece of silver – 15 pieces altogether.

“Wow!” he said, “I have $15!”.

The photo looked terrific and we have a very satisfied – albeit greedy and ruthless – little five-year-old.

Of course, the guilt will soon seep in, and I know I will secretly add the reminder of the money into his moneybox.

But for now, I shall wallow in the warm glow of victory.