Tilly lost her shit with me this morning because I wouldn’t “put the sun in the sky!” She rejected my submission that it was dark because she’d woken up an hour early. On the flip side, I’m stoked she thinks I can wield that much power over the universe. #MakeTheSunRiseMama
I’ve run completely out of wine due to poor planning. Everyone is Very Concerned.
You know it has been A Challenging Week when you excitedly chalk up going for a pap smear as “child free time”
Tilly joins the “Wearing Active Wear To School Drop Off” movement.
I just gave my two year old a snack of homemade Greek yogurt, raw nuts, homemade stewed peaches (that we hand picked together as a family. Organic, obviously), chia seeds and cacao nibs. But now I don’t know whether to upload a photo to Instagram, or smack myself in the face really hard. I’m conflicted. It’s a very conflicting moment.
Two little city girls went country for the weekend. Questions from Amy as we took a stroll in the fresh air: “Why is there so much poo everywhere? Why haven’t you brought your handbag, Mum? Is there a cafe at the farm? No? Then how do people get cupcakes? DID I JUST STEP IN POO?” Etc.
Made dinner early so we could all eat together as a family. Nearly burned it because I was busy uploading a photo to Instagram of a peach that looks like a bum.
I love food, I really do. My husband likes to embellish the story of our first date, and say that I finished my dinner, then finished his, and if heās really on a roll, heāll say I licked the plate. Plate licking did not happen. I have some standards (for first dates). In reality I ordered an entrĆ©e, main and dessert, and finished them all with gusto ā which apparently was quite a thing for a blonde in her early 20ās in the early 2000ās. Weāve tried to instil a healthy respect for food with our daughters, but have found eating at restaurants with two troublemakers can be a somewhat confronting experience. Cafes are pretty much fine, because there are tiny cups of frothy milk with marshmallows on the side to rip into, but dinner at restaurants is a whole different story. One family dinner outing ended prematurely when Amy sobbed hard about not wanting her food, and a newly mobile Tilly kicked the table so hard she knocked over my wine ā it was …
Just as I was considering asking for a vasectomy-reversal for Valentine’s Day, I got sucker-punched by an unexpected hangover (due to a miscalculation of food-to-wine ratios) and was instantly reminded how hideous morning sickness was. #NoReversalNecessary #ChocolatesInsteadPlease #TheNiceOnes
(Published in the December ’15/January ’16 edition of Little Treasures Magazine. This is an extended version of the published article) When I was pregnant, a colleague told me in sage tones that having a baby was the most competitive activity sheād ever gotten herself into. The alarming tales she told of coffee group bake-offs and veiled queries about whose baby was first to smile/roll over/talk/play the violin certainly took my mind off my swollen ankles. Fortunately, the two local mother groups I fell into (via antenatal classes and a Plunket PEPE course) were more of the āgrab a packet of biscuits on the way and letās have a laugh about how many times this week weāve opened the front door to visitors with our maternity bras undoneā variety. Nevertheless, via an increased consumption of social media, my eyes were opened to the battleground that is motherhood. Natural birth vs. c-section. Breast feeding vs. formula. Co-sleeping vs. own bed. Vaccinators vs. anti vaxers. Cry it out vs. rock to sleep. The āvs.ā list was seemingly endless, and …
McPikelets 