All posts tagged: #kids

Say hello to my little friend

The magic of Christmas is a special thing when you’re a kid. Twinkly lights, the Snoopy’s Christmas song on high rotate, seeing extended family, decorating trees, waking up to presents and a note from Santa, a special lunch and a free pass to gorge on candy canes. When you’re a kid, it all just…happens. When you’re a parent, however, it all just…happens because you do it all. I’m no grinch, and Christmas is pretty much the highlight of my year (note: Due to printing deadlines, I’m writing this column quite far ahead of Christmas. I will laugh at myself long and hard when I see that sentence in print), but from somewhere around mid-September my right eye starts to twitch as I think about logistics. Where will we be? Who will be coming? Does everyone fit? Are there any more vegetarians than there were last year? Oh, and a vegan now, too? Where are the Santa Sacks? Are we allocating enough time to all sides of the family? Can someone please turn off Snoopy’s Christmas …

Friendship survivals & casualties

I consider myself extremely lucky to have a core group of girlfriends I’ve known for a while now, we share a lot of our thoughts and lives with each other, and have supported each other through life’s ups and downs – which has preserved our sanity many times over. They’re the kinds of friends you could rely on to help you hide a body. I met those friends through other mutual friends, through work, and through old relationships. We’ve done life things at different times…moving countries, getting married, separating, having kids…and while we sometimes don’t see each other as often as we’d like to, we know we’re all there. Last night, I went out with a different group of relatively new friends discovered in the last year or so, and the conversation ranged from hilarious to intense and back again, with much cheers-ing and clinking of glasses. Were it not for the fact that our kids are in the same year at the same school, we probably wouldn’t have met, and that table of belly …

Talking ‘Bad Parenting’ on Breakfast TV

Loved talking ‘Bad Parenting’ with Hayley and Jack on Breakfast. You can see the interview by clicking right here   And this is the post that sparked the conversation: Confessions from the ‘bad parent’ corner… It’s not raining so technically we could all be outside having adventures, but instead this morning my kids have watched way too much Netflix. They’re not even watching something educational that I can then trill “ok children, let’s all make our own volcano from baking soda and food colouring now like they did on that highly stimulating science show you just watched!” and feel all pious about it… they’re watching one of those series about animated moody teenagers in lots of makeup bitching at each other. But this morning the allure of a Sunday cup of tea in bed in bed was just too strong. I was thinking about a busy week ahead, had some stuff to sort out in my head, and I knew that if I tried to think about that while up with the kids I would have …

Firsts and Lasts

(Originally published in the Autumn 2018 edition of Little Treasures Magazine) “I re-homed the Mountain Buggy while you were out, it’s gone to a lovely family expecting a surprise third baby” my husband beamed at me, a look of expectant pride on his face as if I’d soon be whipping out a certificate for ‘The Most Helpful And Organised Partner’. “You WHAT?” I shrieked. “G-gave away the M-mountain Buggy?” He stammered, “The thing you said we should probably give away because Tilly is too big for it now? To a nice family? Was that not right?” Doubt flickered across his face as he edged towards the fridge to pour me a large wine. It was absolutely the right thing to do, better than my default plan based on leaving it under the house to gather that under-the-house-smell saying, “we really must re-home that buggy,” every time I trip over it while trying to hunt down the cat. It’s not that I didn’t want another family to benefit from the pram that had given me a …

I’m doing it wrong (says the internet).

Many things change when you have a baby. Your body, your hair, the shadows under your eyes, your bank balance, your relationships, and the information dished out to you through your social media feeds. Based on the types of conversations I have online, the photos or articles I look at and the demographic box I fit into (city dwelling 30-something mother of two), I get quite the cocktail of ads and ‘suggested posts’ served up to me on Facebook and Instagram. Sometimes I imagine there’s a plucky young Facebook executive casting their eye over the data report for the day and thinking to themselves, “based on her criteria, today this lady saw ads for leggings that make you two sizes slimmer, washing powder, toddler shoes, gin, adult slippers that look like shoes, a wine sale, crumpets, sleep consultants, frozen chicken nuggets, anti-wrinkle cream, multi-compartmented lunchboxes, a device you stick in your lady parts that connects to your phone to say how much work your pelvic floor needs, and more wine. WHAT IS THIS LIFE?!” Sometimes …

Now it matters

At the risk of coming across as a bit neurotic and high maintenance, I think having babies has made me a bit neurotic and high maintenance. Previously mundane or everyday situations have taken on a whole new meaning now that there are two tiny humans in our life. The little things have become big things, and motherhood can feel a bit like one of those reality TV shows where people have to make it through obstacle courses covered in soap while big padded gloves throw unexpected blows. Except there’s no cash prize, and instead of an exciting purpose-built course, the obstacles are things like long queues at the supermarket. For example: Holiday traffic with the husband before kids: “Oh rats, traffic is at a standstill. Never mind, let’s listen to some music, have a chat, and share the chocolate bar that’s in my small and tidy handbag”. After kids: “Noooo! I’m down to the last three crackers for the bored toddler, and then there’s nothing but a half-empty packet of crystallized raisins somewhere in the …

Leave it on the playground

  With the weather sending out flirty sunny signals by way of apologising for the recent flooding in our city, we decided to get together with some friends and their kids for a combined family lunch and play. Given that there were nine of us in total (four adults, five kids), there was a bit of a wait for a table, but with a fantastic playground adjacent to the restaurant you could buy wrist bands to play on, the wait was no bother at all. The kids got stuck in to the busy playground, and the adults chatted while keeping an eye out for any potential flight risks, and an ear out for any “I’ve fallen off this thing here and something is probably broken!” shrieks.  A good waiting time was had by all. Or so I thought. Just after we’d sat down and all disputes over coloured cups had been settled, my five year old daughter whispered “oh no, here comes that mean girl”, and shrank back into her seat as a little girl …

Step aside, Sanctimommy

Not only does the Internet offer up things that make me laugh and give me the opportunity to see what complete strangers are doing with their lives and décor, it helps me feel connected to the world on days when I don’t see any other adults. The Internet has also introduced me to the concept of the ‘Sanctimommy’. A sensational mash-up of the words ‘Sanctimonious’ and ‘Mommy’, a Sanctimommy exists to tell the rest of us exactly when and how we’re screwing up parenting, without sparing our mediocre mothering feelings. Let’s say you entered a picture of your family enjoying a picnic at the beach for an online competition. “Oh cute”, chimes in the Sanctimommy, “but I can see a bottle of bought sunscreen on the blanket there – it blows my mind that people rub toxic chemicals on their precious baby’s skin. I make my own from organic oils. It’s time consuming, but I actually love my children so it’s worth the effort. Those sandwiches are clearly made from refined flour – are they …

Statement

I explained the difference between a statement and a question to Tilly, because she was saying “I have to tell you a question!” before every single thing she said. But now she struts around the house shouting, “I need to make a statement!” And it feels like we’re living a preschool version of Law & Order