I love plane travel with kids. I love the whingeing as you wait in the departure lounge. I love paying $18 to buy pancakes to stop the whingeing for five minutes. I love when they have two mouthfuls of the $18 pancakes, announce they taste funny and refuse to eat the rest. I love when... Continue Reading →
Totally sick holidays, part 3
Husband has the sniffles. Damn him. I knew this would happen. Bloody holiday curse strikes again. We haven't even left the country and the first family member is already down. Meanwhile, I've stuffed up next year's holiday too. I booked a cruise for the whole family (except Husband, as he'd rubbish it and ruin it for me) to celebrate Mum's 70th... Continue Reading →
Strike action
Husband has finally conceded that we are living beyond our means. He sat everyone down last night and outlined a strict new budget that reflects our constrained means. Nah, just kidding. He redrew on the mortgage. Happy days! I'm taking the Sprogs for pedicures this morning to celebrate. They were supposed to be at school, but there's a teachers'... Continue Reading →
Join the whine club
What is it with five-year-olds and whingeing? Constantly. It makes my head feel like its exploding. I want to scream "shut up, shut up, shut up ..." But I don't, because it's not recommended in the good parenting handbook. (I tell a lie. I did scream "shut up, shut up, shut up" at a Sprog once. But I felt very, very guilty afterwards. Especially when the... Continue Reading →
Voodoo hoodoo
How many people have voodoo dolls with your face on them? I reckon there's at least four out there of me. They belong to people I've crossed over the years - usually inadvertently in some professional capacity - and they're NEVER GOING TO FORGET IT. It's what fascinated me with the Maddie Pulver case. That was one enormous voodoo doll the guy had for Maddie's... Continue Reading →
Hair of the dog
Father's Day kind of sucked for Husband. As I slumped off to fetch the car at 7am, I heard the thunder of Sprog 1's enormous size 36 feet on the stairs, dashing up to pass on her best wishes. Sprog 1 and Husband don't normally surface from bed until around 9am on Sunday mornings, so it would have... Continue Reading →
Regrets, I have a few …
You know how you're supposed to drink lots of water before going to bed after a big night? I always forget. I invariably remember at 2am, when I wake up with cocky's cage mouth and a raging headache. And that's usually pretty much it for me and sleep, as I lie in bed cudgeling myself for my transgressions. For some reason that didn't happen... Continue Reading →
Broody blues
Henny Penny is broody. I've had to lock her out of the hen house for her own good. Otherwise she sits in the dark all day, desperately hoping to hatch her (unfertilised) eggs. I've tried lifting her out of the nesting box, removing the eggs and depositing her in the garden for some fresh air, food and water. But she... Continue Reading →
Broken promises
My dishwasher is broken. My dishwasher has been broken for a looooong time. Three repairmen with varying gruff demeanors have stuck their heads into my dishwasher over the past three weeks, looked perplexed and left without fixing it. Each gruff repairman has charged me for the privilege of looking perplexed and leaving without fixing it. The... Continue Reading →
OMG there was a GFC!
I just found out about the Global Financial Crisis. And I kind of wish I didn't know. I'm all freaked out now. It was really, really bad. The entire world economy could have collapsed. And then what would have happened? Husband brought home a movie called Too Big To Fail - which chronicles the US treasury's fight to... Continue Reading →
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