What's relaxing about a weekend away? You pack like a whirling dervish. You drive like a bat out of hell to get there. You take sleeping tablets and earplugs to combat foreign sleeping conditions. You get stuck in traffic jams driving back. You arrive home late on a Sunday night and NOTHING has been done. No washing, no cleaning,... Continue Reading →

Driving into Sydney at 6pm last night - the cupboards bare at home - Husband and I decided to take the Sprogs out for dinner. Our destination? An Indian buffet. Quick, lots of variety, close to home. Technically, I didn't need a buffet dinner, having shared a cold seafood plate, a hot seafood plate, a dozen oysters and several... Continue Reading →

A year ago today, my Nan died. Well, her body died; her mind departed long before. I miss my Nan so much. She was awesome, before dementia stole her spirit. For months after she died, I wanted to ask a psychic how she was doing - whether she got her marbles back. But lately, I've been feeling her close by, so I... Continue Reading →

I inserted myself into a conversation in the playground yesterday about five-year-olds wearing make-up. Two mums were discussing whether to boycott a make-up class at their local dance studio. The class is designed to teach them how to correctly apply make-up to their children's faces. The mums were, naturally, disturbed by this concept. It's end-of-year dance concert season, so tarting up... Continue Reading →

My biological clock has officially stopped ticking. I've ceased looking at infants and pondering whether to have another one. I won't/wouldn't/couldn't/shouldn't do it again (oooh, that makes me feel all Dr Seussy). I don't care how little and cute they are. I think the screaming put the final kybosh on it. Not ickle wickle bubby wubby screaming. It's the terrible twos and threes that finished me. All that howling... Continue Reading →

Why do children turn into goldfish when you ask them: What did you do at school today? "Can't remember," they reply. Or "nothing". Sprog 1 is particularly good at keeping her school cards close to her chest. I never hear a thing. Not one word. But then, Sprog 1 is pretty good at keeping everything close to her... Continue Reading →

Topic of conversation among the canteen mums yesterday: first memories. Not the eating slugs kind, significant world events. "I remember Robert Kennedy being assassinated," said one. "I remember the Vietnam War ending," said another. "Man walking on the moon," said a third. "Bay of Pigs," said a fourth. I found this weird on several levels.... Continue Reading →

There is no time. How can there be no time? I don't work anymore. There should be plenty of time. I want to hyperventilate when I think about the crazy week ahead of me. Today, I'm on canteen duty until 2.30pm, then I'll pick the kids up at 3pm. Sprog 2 has dance class at 3.45pm. Sprog 1... Continue Reading →

I saw dolphins bodysurfing yesterday. I called to Husband and the Sprogs and we gathered to watch them frolic on the waves. I saw bluebottles too, scattered on the water's edge. I kicked sand over them, hoping the Sprogs wouldn't notice. Sprog 2 is terrified of bluebottles. One wrapped around her thigh in January and she screamed for hours.... Continue Reading →