Queuing for 90 minutes to see Santa gave my hangover quite the kick along yesterday. As is the way with irony, Sprog 1 woke with a sudden and burning desire to meet the man in red. Must have been all those carols the night before. I suggested we visit Santa at our local shopping centre, but no dice. Sprog 1... Continue Reading →

When did you stop believing? I can't remember my moment. But I'll never forget the day my sister learned the truth. She was 12. I told her. My parents made me do it. She was going to high school and they were worried she'd be an object of mirth. She was really, really annoyed. Almost as annoyed as when I told her... Continue Reading →

I love a playdate in the park. The kids disappear and the mums chin wag. Yesterday, the converstation turned to pelvic floor muscles. Someone had to stop jumping because, you know ... A mum of four credited kegels with keeping hers taut, which inspired a group kegel session around the picnic table. All that pelvic action led someone to announce they'd heard wife-swapping was rife in my... Continue Reading →

Vanity will never be a curse for Sprog 1 while Sprog 2's around. Earlier this week, after Sprog 1's art class, a mum asked if she could take Sprog 2's photo. She was going back to China and wanted to show her friends. The camera flashed madly as Sprog 2 struck a series of poses. The mum has been eyeing off Sprog 2... Continue Reading →

"Teenagers," sighed one school mum. "I just want to punch Amy in the face," snarled the other. The conversations you walk into sometimes ... I'd just popped over to say hello to Sprog 2's kindy teacher in the assembly hall and landed in the middle of a rant from some mums of ex-class members. "You can't punch them in... Continue Reading →

There's never a good time to crash into a sporty black car on the Sydney Harbour Bridge. When you're running $5-a-minute late to get Sprog 1 from after-school care is a particularly bad time. It was Melbourne Cup Day, 2009. The owner of the sporty black car was driving home to celebrate his big win. He was furious, but fortunately didn't swear... Continue Reading →

I need them every day. If I don't get them, I panic. I lie awake at night obsessing about them. If I don't have them, I dredge up old brawls and humiliations instead. I'm an addict, desperate for hits ... on my blog. (Sorry, cheap trick.) In the four months since I started blogging, I've discovered those are the big four. They're guaranteed to reel 'em in, every time.  My top blogs... Continue Reading →

"Where's she gone?" a woman cheerily asked me yesterday. I was on my own, she was with her husband and dog. I'd never seen her before in my life. What the hell did she mean? I obsessed over it for a good hour, because I think too much (and not in a constructive, find-a-cure-for-cancer way).... Continue Reading →

Einstein's Theory of Relativity is about there being no such thing as an absolute position or speed or momentum in the universe. My Theory of Inevitability is about there being no such thing as absolute peace or sense or lack of momentum in the universe of parenting. Some of the major points that make up my theory are ... 1. While... Continue Reading →

Is it wrong to fill a mini water-spray bottle with vodka and take it to a restaurant? The place was BYO, but plonking a litre of vodka on the table didn't seem quite the done thing (perfectly acceptable in Russia, not as much on Sydney's north shore). So why did slipping that little bottle into my handbag make me feel so ... dirty? I initially put the vodka into... Continue Reading →