Dyeing my hair and eyelashes, waxing my brows, spack-filling with new cosmetics ... my desire for a makeover hasn't stopped with my face, I've started on the house now. Poor Husband spent his day off at Bunnings, pretending to care whether we got a square or a rectangular outdoor table. After that, we drove to... Continue Reading →

I haven't told the Sprogs yet, but I'm going away. Without them. Without Husband too. It's only for two days, but my gut gets knotty just thinking about it. I feel guilty about how much the ticket cost. I feel guilty about leaving my family for 48 hours. It took me days to get up the nerve... Continue Reading →

Some mornings it's tricky deciding what to blog about. Should it be Husband texting to say he's having "a beer" on the way home from work, but not shuffling in until 11.30pm? At least, that's when he says he got home. After briefly wondering - at 10pm - if he was dead in a ditch, I decided it was his own stupid fault and fell... Continue Reading →

When my sister wins the $5 jackpot lottery, I am so getting plastic surgery. (She's promised me $1million of her $30million win. She's since been lying awake at night worrying that makes her look cheap. How delightfully me of her!) The self-portraits I took for The Day I Dyed confirmed the need for action. My eye bags rival Alice Cooper's,... Continue Reading →

My steely resolve to end the Sprogs' dance lessons due to the distasteful make-up practices dissolved into a puddle of tears at their end-of-year dance concert. While I remain deeply opposed to the red lipstick etc (and now understand why school mums are told to attend makeup classes - applying mascara to five-year-old lashes is bloody tricky), I must admit the high ponytails looked quite fetching. And... Continue Reading →

I had such a good time last night, and I'm not just saying that to annoy Husband (though I will be laying it on thick at my nephew's 10th birthday lunch today). I loved driving solo to the Hunter Valley, without a soundtrack of bickering Sprogs in the back seat or having to play I Spy or 20... Continue Reading →

Do you ever wake up and think: I hate my hair, I must change it, immediately? I did that a few weeks ago (documented in a previous blog called The Night I Dyed). I impulsively bought a $15 home dye kit at Woolies and turned myself into Brunhilda. I immediately hated my new hair colour even more than my old hair colour. I... Continue Reading →

I got it wrong. Husband didn't suggest I write a blog about the contrast between the way I thought my life would turn out when I was a kid and the reality. He meant a blog about all the things you thought you'd have when you were a grown-up. "Like a sugar bowl ... or a Ford Cobra ... with a 20-year-old... Continue Reading →

Husband suggested I write a blog about how differently my life has turned out to the way I imagined when I was a kid. I'm sure he meant it in positive way ... Before he made the suggestion, I was going to write about how (unexpectedly) lovely it was to have a teacher's strike until 11am yesterday, despite it occurring on Relationship Rehab Day.... Continue Reading →

My stilettos are dusty and neglected now I'm a stay-at-home mum. Not much call for them in the supermarket, park or school playground (although certain school mums would beg, and totter, to differ). Actually, there's not much call for most of my wardrobe these days. I rotate the same three pairs of cargo pants and two pairs... Continue Reading →