Archive | October, 2010

Halloween Feet

31 Oct

LD’s little pumpkin feet circa Halloween, October 2007.

B and I picked these little cuties up somewhere along the way – before babies and before pregnancy even, I think. Sadly, Zee is too big for them this time around.

Traditionally, Australians don’t really do Halloween. So you can imagine my surprise when, last year, two costumed girls landed on our doorstep singing “Trick or treat!” I was so flustered (and heavily pregnant with Zee) that I made up a story about how I wasn’t allowed to keep sweet things in the house due to a pregnancy condition and sent them, with extravagant apologies, on their way. If they’d arrived on my doorstep when I was pregnant with LD, the story would have been true – I did have Gestational Diabetes then – but this time around, I was subsisting on a diet of sugar and lard. True story. But it was also true that I had nothing sweet to put in their little trick or treating bags. Because I’d already eaten it. In keeping with my sugar and lard pregnancy diet…..

This year, I was determined to be prepared. I bought fun-size bags of Picnics, Crunchies and Caramello Koalas and left them, in readiness for costumed callers, at the front door.

But then, I thought Halloween was last night and when no-one turned up, B and I set about making a dent in the chocolate supply.

The doorbell rang a few hours back. A skeleton and a vampire stood at my front door, bags held forth, all Oliver “Please sir, some more” -style. I sent them both on their way.

With Crunchies!

What? You think B and I are animals? You think we ate 36 chocolate bars in less than 24 hours? Okay, I’m not saying we’re not capable of that kind of recklessness. But on this occasion, we were the very model of restraint.

Happy Halloween.


The Little Mumma and her tiny love, Zee

29 Oct

Friday night. I sent my mister off to a movie. He deserves the break – and we have tickets that need to be used by the end of the month. Tomorrow – my turn.

But tonight, the kids are all tucked up in bed and sleeping away. And I am free to do whatever I choose.

If I was smart, I’d be watching The Hills when no-one was around to judge my poor taste in entertainment.

Instead, I’ve been writing the journal of my little one. I know too well that if I don’t note it down, I will forget. And it’s important not to forget. I mustn’t forget that my little one loves baths but hates getting dressed. That he laughs not only when you tickle him but when you do the voice that goes with the tickling. Apparently, the tickle voice is stand-alone hilarious – even before there’s been any tickling at all.

And I always include a photo to go with each entry. This is the one I chose for the latest. Me and my littlest guy – and current biggest fan.

Less than a month until we celebrate a full year on earth for our newest son. What a gorgeous blur this year has been. Next year, I hope there’s more gorgeous and less blur.


28 Oct

Tonight, my mind is in overdrive. There is so much going on for The Little Mumma right now and on Monday, I will have something fun to share with you. I’m excited about how much this little blog of mine has grown in just two short months since I relaunched it. And I’m grateful for everyone who has stopped by to read it.

But for now, as always on a Thursday evening, some Random Mumma Thoughts.

I looked around my living room today – an open plan affair with kitchen – and it looked like a toy store had thrown up everywhere. Violently. There was shit EVERYWHERE. And food. Little bits of it. When I became a mother, I started off as the crumb-Nazi – meals were to be eaten at the table, no ifs, no buts. BUT, then LD became a lippy 3-year-old and Zee became a finger food enthusiast, and in the end, you know what? I just let it go. It wasn’t worth the arguments and the angst.

Surveying the disaster area I once called home sweet home, it occurred to me that my sons have a LOT of toys. And it also occurred to me that they have an annoying need to play with every toy, all at once. While LD was busy playing with cars, I dared to begin packing away the play dough. The ensuing performance was worthy of an Oscar. But there was no little golden man for the child. Rather, he was firmly advised to suck it up. Maybe I put it less harshly, maybe I didn’t. 

The photo above is clearly NOT of the toy store vomit. I didn’t rush to get a photo of that. Funnily enough. But I should have. Because maybe you would have felt better about the state of your living room. Hey, there’s always next time. So, in about twelve (very) short hours.

The photo above is what I find even when I’ve spent the last hour and a half cleaning. There’s just always something, somewhere. And, being that it’s boys I breed, the tiny dinosaur is a common find. And they can be anywhere. Jammed inside heating ducts and CD players, in the car, the bath, my handbag, and one day soon, I’m sure, one of the children’s noses. They’re everywhere. Breeding, I think. And these little ones freak me out because, of course, I am terrified Zee will choke on one of them. Bucket ‘o Dinosaurs? Yeah, that was a great idea, Mumma. 

But yesterday, I found something out of the ordinary. And it scared the crap out of me.


Do you know what that is? I’ll tell you what I thought it was. I thought it was a dirty, big (okay, big-ish) spider. And it made me jump about ten feet in the air. Twice.


Take a closer look. It’s a dried up, upside down daisy, picked by LD on a lovely sunshiny walk the day prior. Now, I don’t know how it ended up on my en suite basin but I can say it wasn’t there earlier in the morning.

 I can also say that after I took a photo of it, I put the camera back on my desk and then returning to the bathroom, the fucking thing scared me AGAIN. And that’s when I threw that stupid, dried up daisy in the bin.

And now for something a little different….

26 Oct

Yesterday was a bit heavy, wasn’t it? I got some great feedback so it was obviously an important post but yeah, heavy. So just because I can, something a little lighter.

I want to share some current favourites of mine. Enjoy!

 1. Favourite silliness

Now, I haven’t seen Jersey Shore yet but it is most definitely on my To-Do list (along with Jason Stackhouse – BOOM!). I don’t know anything about the characters except what I’ve read about them in the trashy magazines I not-so-secretly love but this little number makes me laugh.

Below is a gif. I thank Jezebel for this description –
 Gifs—”graphics interchange formats”—are unique to the internet, in that they utilize a short loop of soundless video-like motion to convey thoughts, feelings, memes, or retorts. While a picture says a thousand words, a gif gets the point across much more succinctly.
 It took me a while to actually notice the ‘Snooki Bomb’ (duh!) but when I did, I had to watch it over and over again. Ha!

Snooki Bomb

This girl is an idiot. I think I’m going to LOVE her.

2. Favourite blog

Dear Baby, the story of Melissa and Brent with their precious new girl, Everly, is the ultimate testimonial to how beautiful family life can be. Melissa’s lovely words are accompanied by some equally lovely photography.

I’m absolutely smitten with these three.

And check out the super-cute Miss Everly in live motion…


3. Favourite bag

Ha! I need one. Hilarious AND organic! And only $11.  I found them online at Bag Ladies. Check it out here.


4. Favourite chocolate

I get my groceries delivered (soooo much easier than trying to shop with the kidlets) and often, there are a couple of free samples thrown in. Once upon a time, the sample was from Chocolatier. OH MY! So good (and so much better than a sample of cat food!) But back to the chocolate. I can’t decide if my favourite is the Mud Cake or the Strawberry Delice. So I guess I’ll just keep eating them both.


5. Favourite thing I will not spend crazy $$$ on for my boy (even though I really, reeeally want to)

Photo courtesy of

 LD has the skinniest legs known to man. They are so chickeny-gorgeous! Which makes them perfect for skinny jeans. Apart from the fact that I spend about the same on my own jeans, B is against the skinny denim trend and thus, I will most likely never see my little skinny-legged boy in this pair of skinny-legged joy. Oh, but they’re gorgeous. I found them at Cradle Rock which is a very cool little online store run by Julie Lemmon. The range is fantastic and the service impeccable. Add lightening fast postage to the mix and you have yourself a VERY addicitive little online shopping haunt.


6. Favourite dress for the little daughter I don’t (currently) have    



Dress: Coco & Ginger ~ Photo courtesy of

 This is the Alba Dress in aqua. Isn’t it dreamy? Hell, I want one in my size.  Oh, but we would be paupers if I had a daughter. Perhaps that’s why my children keep being born with penises. Again, I found this at If you do happen to decide you can’t live without it, let Julie know I sent you. 🙂 


7. Favourite series    




Photograph by Matthew Rolston for Rolling Stone

So, B and I just finished watching True Blood Season 3 and I’m told we have until midway through next year before there is any more bloody goodness to be had. So I’m definitely up for Jersey Shore but I’m relatively certain that B will want no part in any show that features a character named ‘The Situation’. And he sure as hell isn’t getting on board with The Hills.

B and I do some serious bonding watching a series together on the couch. We need fresh blood – seeing as there’s no more True Blood. Hit me up with suggestions.




8. Favourite people


 These guys. It’s always these guys…..


Mumma F(l)ail

25 Oct

I am not always the mum I want to be. All too often, I am NOTHING like her. And the person I become, I don’t even recognise. She is a BAD mum. And before you all rush to tell me I’m a great mum and not to be hard on myself – and thank you for that! – I know that we all go through this. I know that I’m human, real and raw and incapable of perfection. But if you were to say to me, “Hey, you’re doing the best you can”, in my heart of hearts, I know that this is not always true. Sometimes I choose not to be better.

It’s not exactly apathy and it’s definitely not deliberate but there are times when I know I should lift and I just don’t. I’m too tired, I’m stressed, I’m hungry, I’m over it. All of these things can be true at any given moment. But this is the gig. And my kids need to know that no matter how hard it is, I will always do my best.

As a domestic goddess, I fall down a lot. I boil pots dry (two in as many days once), I forget wet clothes in the washing machine (is there a worse smell?), I feed my kid number-ghetti (again) because I haven’t got my shit together in time for dinner and yet I find time to cook chocolate fondant for myself (three times in one month!) because I am a sugar whore and there is no stopping me.

But all these things I can forgive myself for.

It’s when I let the tiredness, the monotony, the feeling of being caged get right under my skin that I morph into someone who one; I never thought I’d become, and two; I really don’t like.

My three-year-old feels like karmic retribution for the hell I visited on my mum as a child. He tests me daily. As all good three-year-olds should. THAT’S HIS JOB. And mine is to guide him through this stage. I’m pretty sure the job description doesn’t include screaming, “You don’t get to make the rules!” in your toddler’s face. Yep. Did that. Made him cry, made me cry and then, when the ugliness dissipated, it made not a lick of difference to his behaviour. And why would it? There was absolutely nothing useful about it. Nothing instructive or helpful. Just a woman losing control and taking it out on her tiny son.

Look, I can even forgive myself for that. But when those kinds of moments seem to be repeated, frequently repeated, I start to think I’m not learning from my mistakes. And I am so completely out of ideas about how to deal with a defiant three-year-old that I have resorted to a campaign of fear to make him realise who’s boss. And I know that parent. I’ve seen them in action. As a child, I never wanted to stay at their kid’s house because it was unpleasant and it was scary. And their children were clearly damaged by this style of parenting.

I wasn’t raised that way, to fear my parents and for the love of God, that’s not how I want to raise my own family.

It’s frightening how easily we slip into behaviours that we abhor in others when we have been pushed to the brink.

The best I can do is aim to learn from my mistakes, to try to be more creative when dealing with my child, to read and ask questions and be always striving to do better. My kids deserve no less than that.

And when I trip up – AGAIN! – I’ll hit the restart button, take a few deep, DEEP breaths, power up again and remember that these little people are the fucking loves of my life and I don’t ever want them to think otherwise.

To that end, I found this article helpful. You might, too.

two excellent reasons to do better