Mummyfried

I know I am a walking contradiction.    Despite uploading my stories and likes online, I have a paranoid (yet I think valid) belief that all our online activities, thoughts, opinions will come back and bite us in the bum, literally - this truthfully scares me. I still can’t program a TV or use a smart phone. I go to the phone store for staff to unlock my phone or top up my credit. My reliance on email and telephone to keep in touch with people has reduced. I have graduated to Skype, Facebook, and the occasional text.    I am a modern woman. As a user, I find myself questioning myself and the mediums I use that now play an important role in connecting me to friends, relatives and colleagues. Skype allows my children to interact with their cousins, grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends located around the world  - in real time. Skype keeps me on my toes as my mother comments on my appearance, weight, whether my children look fed and clean.    I watch her glance into the b

Its 3.17 am. I am wide awake. Little Miss has taken over my side of the bed. Mr. Lucky is in snore heaven. I am not there to kick him or roll him over to his ‘non snore’ side. Once up, I stand with my crazy mop hair in my not so flattering pyjamas in the lounge room.  I don’t have that middle of the night sex goddess look. Ever.  Even when I wake up in the morning I can’t say I have ever resembled anything other than someone freakishly scary. Thankfully my children don’t know the meaning of monsters otherwise they would think they were waking up to big scary looking one. I send another prayer of thanks towards Mr. Lucky. He doesn’t see crazy mop hair monster either. I look around and sigh. I could follow in my mother’s middle of the night insomnia fed footsteps and iron, mop the floor, pick up the toys.  I could get that pristine house look and smell going or I could log on and write. I go for the latter.  My look is better matched to that one of a disheveled writer

I have black eyebrows. They don’t match my natural hair color, though to be honest, I don’t remember what that is. It’s somewhere between mousey brown to dark brown. As a child it was sun streaked blonde. I’d pay a lot of money now to get that look. I used to dye my hair black or very dark colors so that my eyebrows and hair would match. I once had to cut most of my long hair off and go short because I had dyed my hair so many times it just wouldn’t take any more color. It took years to grow back.  Another time my hair turned green. The hairdresser nearly passed out and had to get a color specialist in to put forward some recommendations.  We just dyed my hair a boring brown for about two years until the green or dead hair grew out – or snapped off. Now, I just dye my hair to cover the grey. It’s not a new phenomenon, I started to go grey years ago – it’s just gotten progressively worse.  Every time I get my hair dyed at the salon, I get a flashback to Clairol advertisem

Before kids, I struggled to look neat. When I worked for serious and busy corporates and had to wear stockings and closed shoes even heels in the summer, it was an hourly struggle to keep my shirt tucked into my skirt or trousers, keep my hair tidy and despite working a ten hour day, look fresh. At a global conference I was responsible for, I had been up for more than 24 hours, running around with those ridiculous Madonna earpieces trying to find the missing keynote speaker, manage a delegate that had bought her mother to the conference (I know!) and who demanded  that mummy have her own hotel room at the organisations' cost, all the while tweeting updates to our clients and waiting for a stream of phone calls to come in regarding rumors of a merger. You can only imagine how I looked. At some point, my heels had come off to be replaced with a pair of flats one can only describe as ‘fat feet, future bunion friendly granny pumps’, the suit jacket had run off somewhere with the he

I recently had a night out on the town without Mr. Right and the ankle biters (AB’s).  The 30 September 2013 was a great night it was the first time I went out and stayed out past midnight. Below is how this Cinderella achieved the impossible. An uninterrupted night out on the town. I expect to go out again this year. It’s good to have goals and dreams. The day of the outing, tire the AB’s out. And I mean really tire them out. This has two benefits. 1. In exhausting the ABs, they may stay asleep all night so the likelihood of you getting that middle of the night panic call to come home is substantially reduced. 2. In having an active day, it may take the edge off you. You won’t look like ‘mummy on the town’ you just won’t have the energy to look as though you are having a good time. You either will have a good time, or you won’t.  Prepare your outfit a few nights before the big night.  Prepare every detail and be happy with it. Last minute panic changes on the night risk waking A

On Friday night, we decided to break routine and do as the Greek’s do, go out with our children after 7 pm. This town is the Greek version of Home and Away’s, Summer Bay – only it’s not that sleepy. Greece’s Summer Bay is really Mykonos with children. We walked to our local Paidotopo, a café that is also a children’s play centre. Its opening hours are 10 a.m to 2 p.m, then 5.30 p.m. to 12.00 a.m!  Our local Paidotopo is like walking onto set for an episode of Cheers for Children, where everybody knows your name. It’s warm, friendly and fun. Our local has a thousand activities, an indoor slippery dip, jumping castle, a dedicated supervisor who takes the children gently by the hand and plays with them for as long as you are there. She is not frightened to return naughty children to their parents, and will not tolerate bullying.  Best of all,  Paidotopo has a bar, (of course for the parents). The owner (his name is Archilea, not Sam), was pleased to see that I broke

We were never close enough to talk about the stress of not being able to conceive. She never told anyone about the ache in her heart and arms, wanting to cuddle, love and look after a child of her own. As a couple they never let the pressure show when her life, lifestyle, socio, economic, cultural background was continuously assessed. We never discussed the agony of waiting to find out whether they had been approved, let alone the wait to find a child. The financial pressures were and continue to remain unknown. Not once, did they ever complain. They never shared the story of the international flight to meet them for the first time. They may have told immediate family and friends. But we, the extended family had no idea.  In our world, they were a childless couple, and then all of a sudden they were a family of four. Years ago, my cousin and her husband adopted two children.  This blog is a tribute to this couple’s strength, endurance, commitment to each other and to cr

While I was on maternity leave, pretending I knew what I was doing with Little Miss, my role became redundant.  I loved that job even though I had worked ridiculous hours in a very unhealthy environment.  I had been looking forward to going back to work and its challenges but dreaded being away from Little Miss.    I went into mourning and started to wear more black. I looked for other work but couldn't secure a role that offered flexible work hours and seniority, something I would have had, had I returned to the role I left, or lost. Recruiters advised that I should take a full time job and work my way to flexibility after a year, more likely two years. Some even advised I just take a role less challenging / demanding. My black dress code soon became mixed with angry. I secured a part time role that was challenging.  I was made to think and juggle an enormous workload. The role lacked seniority and bells and whistles associated with that.  The travel (cheapest

There will be days that you just want to cry and that is ok Baby poo can travel all the way up the back A baby on the 7 pm to 7 am sleep routine will never be yours Toddlers hate washing their hair their screams can be heard all the way down the street Toddlers like to be held even though they weigh 22 kgs Sleeping in, means getting out of bed at 7 am Sleeping through the night means more than four hours sleep  Walking barefoot during toilet training or baby weaning is not a good idea There are no more private moments in the bathroom If you have nowhere to go, getting dressed in the morning is an achievement If you’re an older parent, it’s unlikely you will ever get your pre baby body back without the help of a personal trainer and dietitian. Just let it go. Really, let it go Cutting baby or toddler nails is bloody hard  Toddlers don’t care if they can’t color in between the lines, why should you? A toddler can't differentiate between a toaster and a dvd player

I have always been a relatively compliant individual.  I follow the rules. I am generally a law abiding citizen.  OK I occasionally jaywalk; if I drive I might exceed the speed limit. One could never describe me as somebody living on the edge.  I always listened to a doctor’s advice, if unwell and prescribed anti biotics I take the entire course of tablets, even if I don’t think I need to. When I met Mr. Right, he empowered me to ask questions, think and seek second opinion. This rule abiding girl started to wake up and see that she could break some rules and become an active participant in the decision making process. This was all fine and dandy until we had children and discussed immunisation.  Did I want to inject my girls with a range of medical cocktails?  Was I prepared to watch my babies howl in pain? Was I prepared to risk the side effects? If I didn’t immunise was I prepared to see the girls get sick and fight an illness I could have prevented? Would they get sick at

It was my turn to pick up Little Miss from nursery. Given it was a ten minute round trip ride, I decided to take a risk. I didn't pack Little Miss’ trip home snack (the only way to coax her home after an exciting day at nursery). I took the risk with the Baby.  I didn't dress her as warmly as I should have,thinking she will be exposed to the elements for a total of one minute. I didn't take the nappy / spare change of clothes bag - thinking even a serious accident could wait ten minutes. I took a risk with myself. No jacket, no grandma singlet (or in the UK they call them vests) to tuck into my jeans under my very thin top. No makeup, no money. Just the phone and keys. We got home without incident.  Little Miss agreed to wait until we got indoors for her snack and the Baby was showing signs of falling asleep on routine without a tear. We got to our front door; I put the key in – nothing. The door wouldn't swing open; the key stubbornly refused to tu

We had grand plans of making her as mobile as possible. Angel on a plane? Absolutely. Ferry? No worries. Bus? Easy. Car? Not even a second thought. Well. Some new parents assume they will have well behaved children 24 x7. I was never that naïve.  When we had Little Miss, I was determined that our travels and adventures would continue. She was going to be the well-travelled, adventure filled child known. Sure the type of adventure would change. I knew we wouldn’t be able to take Little Miss to Paris to an all-night cabaret, or clubbing in Ibitha for two solid days – but I was looking forward to releasing the inner child. I couldn’t wait to go to Ireland in search of a leprechaun, go to the Scottish Highlands in search of the Loch Ness Monster, or North America to see Big Foot. The highlight for me would be a sleep over in the Natural History Museum in Washington. The introduction text on their website still makes shiver with excitement… ‘A night of adventure awaits

In a previous blog I mentioned my pregnancy weight.  For both girls I was huge. Enormous. I looked as though I was about to explode. And that was at 6 months. With Little Miss – I went three weeks over the due date. I suspect she didn’t want to come out because she knew I had no idea what to do once she arrived. She was safe in all that warm floaty fluid.  Leading up to getting pregnant, I wasn’t feeling well. I had stomach pains, I couldn’t sleep, and my weight went up then down.  I thought it was stress; I had a very stressful job that in retrospect I should have left years before.  My doctor disregarded my self diagnosis and suggested I go on a no preservatives, no alcohol, and caffeine free diet.  When I heard this, I got stressed.   Reluctantly I went on the diet. I already exercised so after a six month combination of healthy eating and exercise, I had to admit, I felt great. But OH MY GOD I was boring.  I hated going to restaurants, as I always went for the safest

I am often asked how Mr. Lucky got his name.  Well, Before marriage and children, he was carefree, funny, loving and relaxed.   While still generally well natured and balanced, good things and often great things (and I don’t mean me) happen to him….. He will go out for a walk and come back with a new job. He will go out for a drink and come back smiling and giggling after having had one too many and tell me he met a great group of people who piled him with drinks. They’re now solid friends. He was born into an enormous family who I call the Brady’s as they are loving, happy, supportive and genuinely nice people – no skeletons there. His mother loves him unconditionally – and I mean unconditionally. His sister’s think he walks on water (this explains why he never did household chores and most likely had his sisters wash his feet and dry them with their hair). Just when he starts to worry about money, he finds a huge stash in an old pair of jeans or wins the lottery. He w

Admit it; we all know one child we don’t think is cute. When we see it, (him / her) we are polite generally because we like the parents. Funnily enough this is the only time I consciously try to be the adult. I realise like the kid or not, as the adult I have to behave.  Adults, when dealing with children have the ability to scar the little critter with a comment, snarl, and curl of lip or glare. I just don’t want that on my conscious. I have a family friend (FF) whose face freezes like an evil witch when my beautiful Little Miss enters the room.  It comes as no surprise that Little Miss becomes Little Miss Shite in FF’s company. To Little Miss’ defense, she can’t help it.  How can she possibly be expected to behave when FF suggests she play in the hallway rather in FF’s formal lounge close to mummy and daddy so she doesn't accidentally knock over the lamp, a table or spill her juice on the expensive lounge. I genuinely liked FF. We hit it off instantly and became

I love reading people’s blogs. I have a few favorites. After this 30 day challenge, I expect I will have a few more to add to the list. Woogs World is probably my all-time favorite. I go to her blog site and generally expect that I will leave thinking or smiling about what she has written all day. Of course I wouldn't have stumbled across this 30 day challenge if I didn’t have a love of Lisa Lintern’s Melodramatic me . Her blog today made me hiccup in an attempt to suppress a sob. I could relate. With family in Adelaide, Sydney, Brisbane, Greece and the USA  I have a love / hate relationship with airports. When family arrive - I love going to the airport. When they leave, I am a mess walking away from the departures gate mascara and probably foundation streaks on my cheeks. Security are probably not far behind, making sure that the unstable crying freak leaves the building. Like my family, my favorite bloggers are all over the world. Granted they’re mostly limited

Each morning I stand in front of my wardrobe and sigh. What to wear? While my choices are extremely limited, I can easily stand there frozen in time for hours. I simply can't decide. Black or black? Nine months after baby number two, I don't have my pre baby body back (to be honest I never got it back after baby number one). My enormous size for both pregnancies is a blog for another day. But - to give you an idea - I was weighed the day I was to have baby number two, and the day after having number two and there was a 20 kilo difference. I am still in my pyjamas as I type. My dilemma is worsened by the following: 1. Post baby body (already addressed) 2. Limited wardrobe. We came to Greece for a four month summer holiday. We decided to extend our stay. My winter clothes are in storage in London. The other half of my black wardrobe is in Australia at my parent's. I have largely forgotten about that wardrobe. We moved to London for a year. We stayed in London close t

SO, I thought when I read Lisa’s call for a challenge, why not?  I can do it. I manically set about building a blog site, throwing up my stories and making room for more to come. Easy peasy. I can do it in one night I think. Reminiscent of my university days of pulling an ‘all-nighter’ – the difference, I refused to accept that the children and my insomnia (attention to detail) would cause delay. I have built websites before, I have consulted to Board Members and Partners regarding blogs and social media. I am a pro, I know what it takes.   The all-nighter turned into a four night all-nighter. I have spent the last few nights dealing with the baby’s attempts to turn night into day. She thinks I love it when she howls almost all night. Once she is awake, Little Miss wakes up. Little Miss (also known as Little Miss Relevance Deprivation) starts to howl also wanting cuddles and milk.  Somewhere between the two, I have worked on this blogsite. Sleep deprivation coupled

I do my best to be a great mummy but there are days that in all honesty, there are some days where I am no fool, I am just treading water. It's on these day's I become Bad Arse Mummy (BAM). Confession one – The Set Up: I have a fabulous sense of smell.  It can entertain…. BAM: ‘Did you enjoy that cheeseburger? ‘(really wants to add but doesn’t ‘Any reason why you didn’t bring one home for me?’) Thoughtless Daddy (TD): ‘What? How do you know? Did I leave the wrapper in my pocket?’ BAM : ‘I can smell it’ It can save embarrassment... BAM : ‘I suggest you either pop on a bra under that top or take an umbrella. It is going to rain’ Bra -free Saggy Boob Hippy Friend: ‘How do you know?’ BAM  : 'I can smell it.’ (Honestly I can). Sometimes, I turn the skill off. It’s not often that I do but sometimes, just when I need a break which is every day just after a coffee when the crave still hits, even after many many long years that I have quit smoking,