All posts filed under: Short Stuff

I heart laundry

Published by

“Wow, I see you did some painting at kindy today!” “Yes Mummy. The teachers asked if I wanted to wear an apron, but I said ‘no thank you. It’s ok, Mummy can just wash my clothes. She really loves doing the washing.’” I need to demonstrate to my daughter that I have hobbies above and beyond laundry.

Give up

Published by

Supportive parenting advice from the toddler as I tried (and failed) to “shhhhh” and pat the baby to sleep in her own bed this afternoon: “Oh mummy, just give up and give her a boob until she falls asleep, or put her in the front-pack!” It’s a sad day when even your two year old sees fit to point out your parental failings.

Not NZ’s Hottest Home Baker

Published by

Sick toddler insisted that the only thing that could possibly make her feel better would be for us to bake chocolate chip cookies. Obstacle 1: No brown sugar. “Never mind!” I trilled, “we’ll substitute honey!” Obstacle 2: The (brand new) flour had little bugs in it. “It’s fiiiiiine!” I enthused, “we’ll mix corn flour and oat bran together, that’ll do the trick!” Eighteen little mounds of cookie mixture were painstakingly laid out on the baking tray by toddler hands. I put the tray in the oven, feeling very smug about my baking improvisation, and having a little daydream about entering some sort of toddler/mother reality TV cooking show where Amy and I would wear matching aprons and make it through all the elimination rounds. Then this came out of the oven. I’m not sure what’s worse…the crestfallen/horrified look on Amy’s face, or the realisation that my dreams of meeting Manu from My Kitchen Rules will never eventuate. Ever.

Exhibitionist

Published by

I jumped to the conclusion that the lad re-installing our bath must surely be high. He wouldn’t look at me when I asked him questions (really exciting questions, such as “are there any cleaning products I should avoid?”), handed the under-the-house key to his colleague while staring at his boots to give back to me even though I was standing right there, and then bid a hasty retreat to his van. As I helped Amy wash her hands just after they left while tutting about high tradies, I glanced in the mirror and saw my shirt was unbuttoned to the naval. I haven’t been this much of an exhibitionist since University!

Banjo & Hank

Published by

So Amy tells me that soon I’ll be going back to hospital to have not one, but two baby girls. Apparently they’ll be called Banjo and Hank. I really hope she’s not displaying some kind of psychic ability…because a girl called ‘Hank’ isn’t going to make it through high school without collecting some serious emotional baggage (‘Banjo’, however, will be totally fine and probably end up fronting a wildly successful indie band).

Love logic

Published by

Amy: “ I love you, Mummy. Do you know why I love you?” Me: *imagining a lovely little response about how I give her cuddles, or read stories, or something* “Why’s that, sweetheart?” Amy: “Because you’re not an idiot.” Oooookaaaaaaay.

Superstition

Published by

I never really put much stock into superstition…until now. Last night the baby slept for many, MANY hours in a row, resulting in me managing to keep my shit together all day today, even while chasing the cat around in the shower trying to hose dog poo off him (you’ve not witnessed an expression that better encompasses rage, shame and fear until you’ve seen a soggy Siamese), as the newly-awoken baby yelled from her cot and the toddler stood with her nose pressed against the outside of the shower door demanding a jellybean for using the potty. I may have even managed a sort of rueful “ah, kids and animals! Whaddaya gonna do?” smile. So you can bet your ass I’m trying to follow the exact same steps as last night to tempt back whatever sleeping sorcery visited our home.