Suri Cruise needs to go to bed earlier. I'm an outspoken member of the head-shaking press pack that questions the wisdom of letting a five-year-old stay up so late. But I've let Sprog 2 lead a Suri-style lifestyle on our holiday, and I'm paying the price. On our first night in Singapore, we didn't get... Continue Reading →
Glutton for punishment
I have these ridiculous, unwritten rules when it comes to my diet. If no-one is watching, it doesn't count. If it's stolen off someone else's plate, it doesn't count. If it's a canape, it doesn't count. And if it's consumed on a holiday, all bets are off. (Warning: those repulsed by gluttony should stop reading... Continue Reading →
Midnight in Singapore
Woody Allen is an odd little man. But I think he's onto something with Midnight in Paris: people like to imagine their golden age to be in the past rather than the present. I've been doing that a lot lately. Owen Wilson's character thought Paris in the 1920s was his nirvana; I've convinced myself modern-day... Continue Reading →
Plane crazy
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 →
