Happy Anniversary, Baby.

Today is mine and J's four year wedding anniversary. Hooray! Most days it feels like those four years have flown, too fast. Some days it feels like they're wearing on a little! Such is the joy of marriage.

These days so many of my friends don't believe in marriage. And why would they? Between the divorce rate and the legalisation and subsequent delegalisation of gay marriage in the ACT and the rising, crazy cost of marriage, it's not exactly appealing. It's also an archaic institution that there is really no legal need for, in terms of having rights in the event of a separation and so forth.

But I am still a massive supporter of marriage.

I was an absolute baby when I got married, in the larger scheme of things. My younger sister is about to turn 22, the age I was when I got engaged, and I look at her and think, wow. But I was always an old soul and always in search of the marriage and kids thing - that was what I wanted to be when I grew up, a wife and a mother. Still, many people questioned WHY we would get married so young, when we really didn't need to.

The Happy Couple

The answer is pretty complex. Obviously as I said, it's something I've always wanted. More than that, I've had a really excellent example of marriage before me my whole life in my parents, who have a wonderful relationship. J also appreciated the long lasting marriage of his parents and the large family they had created. We both wanted to be married before we had kids - that was all we'd known - and we really wanted kids. We also just wanted to make that commitment to each other and have a big party with all our mates to celebrate.

The thing is, marriage did change our relationship. We lived together for 3.5 years before we were married so there was nothing new to discover there. But marriage made our relationship more comfortable. Less complicated. We tried less. We needed less. We became more free.

We were completely aware of our direction, and while we still argued, it was never because of insecurities or doubts. It was because he was home late or I had gotten another parking fine. (J and I really LOVE to argue, also, so we do almost daily on any range of subjects from politics to how many Christmas presents are appropriate for a two year old)

When H was born, I really got a swift lesson in how kids can change your relationship. I remember my Mum telling me that the only thing she and Dad ever argued about (also with relative frequency!) was us kids. This has stuck with me and become clearer and clearer to me on my own parenting journey - see aforementioned argument over Christmas presents. It sounds trite, but I know there are tough times ahead as our children get older and raising them gets more complicated, and I like to think the fact that we are married, that we made that commitment to each other, will get us through. I'm not one to go back on a promise.

Who knows what the future holds. Can I say our relationship will survive anything, that we will never become a statistic? Of course not. There are no guarantees, and life can deal you some rough hands. What I can say is that the last four years have been the happiest of my life, I can't wait to meet the second little baby we made together, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Happy Anniversary, J!

Z x

My First Best Friend

On an entirely non-Mum, non-child related subject today, I've decided to take my lead from the very funny and clever Kerri Sackville and write about My First Best Friend. I started writing this on Monday and was interrupted and have only just had a chance/the energy to get back to it. This week has been full on with J traveling so all I've done in the evening is go to bed and watch Netflix!

I was particularly inspired to join in with this topic as I JUST found my half of the best friend charm we exchanged over twenty years ago. It's a broken half of a heart that says "BEST", and I can just imagine my seven year old self demanding that half, because that's the kind of kid I was.

Annoying.

But it's actually kind of a sweet story, our friendship. We met on the first day of Kindergarten and became fast friends - her name was Kylie and she was the cutest little thing with big coke bottle glasses and a short black bob, the shortest kid in the class to my tallest. We were best friends right up until high school, when she went to the local school and I traveled to a school in the city. But we always remained friendly and our parents are still great mates - we weren't ever the type to fight, given that our personalities were so opposite and we complemented each other well.

Here are some yarns about Kylie and I:

- When we were in Year One, my Mum found us giggling over a note we'd written that said "Jennifer H is a fukking bich". (Funnily enough I traveled on the bus with said Jennifer to high school every day and she was kind of a bich...)

- That same year I was in a bad accident at a local park that resulted in my then four year old brother saving my life by running to some local teenage boys for help. We were on the front page of the paper, and Kylie cut the picture out and hung it next to her bed, where it remained until we were pre-teens.

- Kylie's brother had a bed shaped like a car which, back in those days, was a pretty unique and super cool thing. I may have briefly developed a crush on him as I a) Developed a crush on most boys who spoke to me between ages 10 and 13 and b) Really liked that bed.

- One summer I stepped on an Oyster on the first day of holidays, got stitches and couldn't swim ALL SUMMER (it was probably a week or so in retrospect!). I still remember getting home with my Dad the day I got my stitches out and Kylie and my Mum jumping out from behind the door, with the news that I was going to Kylie's to swim in her brand new IN GROUND SALT WATER POOL (I also had a pool, it was above ground and not saltwater, therefore much less cool).

- We never had a fight.

- Kylie had a sister who, despite being about six years older than us, we gave SUCH a hard time and teased incessantly. She was just one of those easy targets. Her sister has three kids now and as far as I know the whole family still give her a hard time.

- We played on the same soccer team as teenagers despite going to different schools, and while she was gifted with a natural athletic ability I was around 175cm by age 13 and was gifted only with a positive attitude, but she still always passed me the ball and never gave me grief for my sporting ineptitude.

- Kylie's parents were INCREDIBLY racist, which sadly is a pretty common thing where I grew up. It's a small town, kind of in the middle of two big cities, predominantly white with a large indigenous population compared to many other areas. I never saw anyone of Asian heritage until I went to high school - maybe on a trip to the city or Queensland but certainly not in my town. My parents were some of the more liberal minded in the area and always taught us not to discriminate, so the sometimes racist humour of Kylie's family was pretty jarring to me, especially as they were people I spent a lot of time with and loved, really. But I think things like this, things I saw as a kid, have taught me to view things more in grey. I can't tolerate racism but equally I see that it's often lack of education and misinformation that shapes the views of otherwise kind people. I'd like to think that these days I would call them out on it, but I don't know if I'm that gutsy. 

Kylie and I gradually drifted apart over the years, we are COMPLETELY different in many ways but I guess kind of similar in terms of our upbringing and values. She is quite serious and not as out there as me, but I'm sure we would get along if we caught up.

Maybe we should.

Z x

Love.

We had a challenging toddler Sunday today. Funnily enough there were also so many beautiful moments where she had us in stitches and gave us giant hugs and said "I love you" unprompted. But she was in one of those moods where she was willing to fight us on every. single. thing.

Who am I kidding? She was born in that mood!

Deflated, I sat down next to J tonight and asked, "Is it me? What am I doing wrong?"

To which he replied that it's mostly her BIG personality, but I am also a bit of a softie. I really try to be strict, I honestly do, it's just my patience level is a little greater than the average person and she can push me that little farther without my noticing.

"But," he said "I did read a quote the other day that made me think of you."

It was from Alain de Botton, on Twitter.

To love a child so intermittently, it will only dare to show you its good sides. Or so loyally, it will feel safe enough to be vile. 

No matter how vile my child is I will always love her madly - and I guess she knows it. 

Z x

Organised Chaos

I've been meaning to post an update for a while on my rearranging of the play area downstairs to be more consistent with the Montessori method of displaying toys and activities. I had actually had the idea to purchase or make a wooden shelf for toys a while before I got involved with Montessori, but going to PTP and seeing what a difference it makes having a play area that is accessible and organised gave the motivation to finally get it done.

So the first thing I had to do was a giant clear out of a whole lot of toys. We have been given so many hand-me-downs and gifts that we don't need and never would have bought ourselves, and I decided to just be ruthless and pretty much bin anything I don't like that H doesn't absolutely love. Which meant that I did have to keep a giant inflatable dinosaur and a stuffed Spongebob Squarepants doll, but I've hidden them out of sight. Meanwhile, I found a dead huntsman at the bottom of her giant bin of toys, which just goes to show how often she used them!

Once I'd decided what toys I wanted to keep, I made a trip to IKEA. I purchased the Trofast frame with wooden shelves after seeing a few images of other spaces that had used this system on Pinterest. I then purchased some wooden boxes, woven baskets and crocheted pouches in which to store activities. Finally, I bought a rug to serve as the dedicated play/work area.

I was pretty proud of myself the day I built and set all this up - it gave the entire house a fresh, organised feel. We've had the system in place for about three weeks now, and I've been SO happy with it both aesthetically and functionally, as H has been much better (still nowhere near where I'd like) at putting her toys away.

Anyway, here are a few images of what it looks like. I hope it inspires you to get organised too!

Okay so this is actually H's toy kitchen, made by J - amazing right?

He's a clever Dad

The Abacus, also from IKEA

Toy train set, now stored in an IKEA basket

J's childhood Xylophone

Hammering block + activity

Beading activity

Music

Imaginative play

Some baby toys I love...

IKEA stacking rings

The one plastic concession - DUPLO

And...voila!

Z x

The Spirited Child

Another Monday, another Montessori morning. This morning's PTP was not successful, to say the least. H was not interested in going, took thirty minutes to walk the few hundred metres to the school and started up with the willful behaviour the moment we walked in the door. I could just *feel* her mood and was not looking forward to the next two hours, which unfolded exactly as I'd predicted so let's not go into it.

Most of the other parents at the class are lovely, some more understanding than others when it comes to managing a high energy child. The amazing thing to come out of today was that I struck up a conversation with another Mum who told me that H reminds her exactly of her eldest daughter, now five. She explained how the behaviours and personality were exactly the same, and that her daughter is a very smart, funny and loving child who also wants what she wants when she wants it, and will let nothing stand in her way.

Sounds familiar.

Anyway, this Mum a) Made me feel so much better about my morning and b) Gave me lots of amazing advice and encouragement. She spoke about her daughter's feisty and determined nature and her ways of managing it, as well as her frustration that 90% of people have not had a child like this and thus don't know how to address such a child's behaviours.

I completely empathised with this because SO often I see people (strangers, friends, sometimes even family) try to step in with H when her head is just a thunderstorm and I know it will only make it worse. It doesn't bother me as such as I know the intentions are right and they are only reacting to what I understand is unacceptable behaviour, but I just have to sigh when it happens as being her mother I know it's ineffective. There are ways of calming her and soliciting good behaviour that don't involve punishment and stern words (which trust me, I WISH she would respond to but she doesn't) and simply require a little time and patience.

So, we are going to meet for coffee in a couple of weeks so she can tell me more about this little firecracker daughter of hers, and also fill me in on the situation with her German au pair - an arrangement I would love to be able to look at down the road instead of daycare. In the meantime, she gave me the name of a book that she said was pretty much life changing for her.

Taming The Spirited Child is written by American parenting expert Michael Popkin and looks at ways to manage the traditionally labelled "challenging" child. After doing some research I bought two copies so that J and I can read it separately at the same time (not sure that makes sense!). Two things I love about it from the outset is that it recognises that some children are simply "spirited" and that this can be an amazing thing, and that Popkin actually had to use his own techniques on his son, which he admitted to finding difficult but incredibly beneficial.

I am aware also that H is only two, an age which has clearly been branded "terrible" for a reason, and I'm not going to pigeonhole her as exceptionally difficult just yet. But one thing's for sure - the kid's got spirit. Bucket loads of it. So if I can look into taming and channeling that, why not?

Z x

Pregnancy Weight Gain

I'm currently 24 weeks pregnant (hooray!) and am pretty focused on my weight at the moment after I stepped on the scales a few nights ago and did a complete double take. I weigh HOW MUCH?!

It's silly to focus too much on weight when you're pregnant, but it's also REALLY silly not to worry at all. I know from experience that the weight does NOT just "fall off", and I know to expect breastfeeding issues so I can't necessarily count on that as an aid to weight loss. I'm also locked in to be a bridesmaid seven weeks after my due date - eek!

16 weeks to go...

I searched madly for the yellow card that recorded all my vital stats during my pregnancy with H, and discovered that I am only about 2kg's heavier than I was with her at around this time, and I was about 2kg's heavier when I fell pregnant this time, so I'm actually tracking about the same. Not to say that's a great thing - I put on 17kg with her, which interestingly is the same amount my Mum put on with all three of her babies.

According to most sources I can find, weight gain in pregnancy actually is genetic, so it is worthwhile getting in touch with your Mum if you're worried about your weight gain (or lack of it) at all. I have a fairly insatiable appetite at the best of times so it was never any question that pregnancy would be a fat time for me. Others are blessed with those all-arms-and-legs bodies (my Mum calls them "eggs on legs") that pretty much just grow a neat basketball when pregnant. I carry in my face, back, thighs and arms, which is really awesome.

Thankfully, I am blessed with glowing skin and shiny hair. That's the trade off. And for those interested, it does come off eventually - I was back to my pre-baby weight when H was nine months, and that was with a high consumption of alcohol and cake and a low dose of exercise. This time I'm hoping for seven weeks - that's realistic right? I can starve myself and try for a Woman's Day cover. 

N.B. - If you are genuinely concerned about your weight gain, be it significant or miniscule, there is a great weight gain calculator over at Kidspot. It allows you to enter your weight at time of conception and then tracks a healthy weight gain. I'm currently sitting right on my maximum! Time to cut out the Rum&Raisin chocolate.

Z x

Look At Daddy's Tail!

The title of this post is pretty self explanatory...right? H has recently started looking at her naked Dad (who frequently showers just as she is waking up and climbing into bed with me for stories) with great interest, and is particularly fascinated by his "tail", otherwise known as his doodle.

As you will notice, I've called it his doodle, because I am still a five year old that way. I don't actually mind the word "penis" but it sounds so clinical. Especially out of a child's mouth.

That's just my perspective - clearly the experts disagree, with current recommendations to use the correct names for body parts from a young age. That is, you know, penis and vagina.

This is particularly difficult for me, as I harbor a great deal of word phobias. Word phobia is my term for a word that sets my skin on edge and I'd rather not be used in my presence. Moist. Fresh. Discharge. Vagina.

Reading those words in black and white it could seem I've actually been scarred from some kind of traumatic yeast infection or an early exposure to pornography, but no, I just hate the way they SOUND. As I've mentioned before, I used to be a nanny, and every time my six year old charge talked about her vagina it made me want to light my ears on fire.

Still, I recognise the need to sit down and have a discussion about body parts with Miss H. This was all too apparent on Saturday evening when, sharing a bath with a male toddler friend, H grabbed his doodle and shouted "TAIL!". His Mum took over and explained all about penises and vaginas, which left H looking a little confused because she only knows she has a "fanny". As I said, I'm a five year old.

So penises will be tails and vaginas will be fannys for some time in my house, until perhaps a boy comes along and tails become doodles. We'll be a house of Kindergarten kids when it comes to privates.

Oh, and testicles are just balls.

What names do you use for your parts?

Z x

Happiness.

It's amazing the tiny things that can fill your heart, as a parent. Yesterday was H's first face painting experience. She looked around excitedly at the other, mostly older children who'd transformed into tigers and fairies, almost disbelieving that she was really able to look the same.

She sat down in front of the fairy who was to paint her little munchkin face and replied, when asked what she'd like to be, "A princess".

This fairy face painter was a pro and worked her magic on little H in a matter of sixty seconds - with the flourish of  a sponge, a paintbrush and some glitter, a princess appeared before our eyes.

The expression on her face when she saw herself in the mirror actually caused me to giggle out loud, pure delight at her pure delight. I couldn't stop smiling as she ran around introducing herself to other kids as "PRINCESS, a PRINCESS!".

I've been tired this weekend, but the happiness of my child has made me happier than any sleep in ever could. 

My Montessori Obsession

H and I have just completed our third week of Montessori "play group" or PTP (Parent Toddler Program) at our local Montessori school. From the title of my post you may think this has been an enjoyable experience - it hasn't. H is the most raucous child in the group and the entire two hours is fraught with anxiety and stress. Most of the other children have been attending for three terms and are pretty well adjusted to the rules and routines, and my child isn't exactly a "rules and routines" type at the best of times, so it's challenging.

But things are changing.

The first week was a nightmare. Screaming, crying, stomping, hitting - you name it, we saw it. The second week, less so. Yesterday, H was engaged in some activities for up to fifteen minutes, and actively sought to "work", putting rubbish away voluntarily and happily washing her plate, cup etc. There were still tears; there was even one tantrum. But the improvement was HUGE.

Amazingly, we have also seen improvements at home. I can't put this all down to Montessori - I really believe H was sick and teething for about two weeks there not long ago, and was just miserable. But I've noticed myself becoming firmer, and speaking more affirmatively, and the results are pretty spectacular. Not only has H very quickly adjusted her behaviours, even her attitude towards her Dad has improved - perhaps because she realises she can't manipulate Mum quite so much? Or maybe more because she's felt a little more empowered.

Here are the top five changes I've made around the home, based on what the class leader at PTP has told me:

1) Speak affirmatively/don't ask questions - I am a shocker when it comes to passive language. "Where do the toys go?" "Do you want to go upstairs now?" etc. This has been the main thing the PTP leader has picked me up on and I've noticed myself doing it SO often. Instead I should be saying "Your doll goes here, put her away please," and "We're going upstairs now". I have to keep telling myself that H is TWO and needs to be TOLD what to do, not asked. Further to that, questions stress her out and invite the response "No!" - I have found speaking affirmatively to make a huge difference so far.

2) Don't praise - Another thing I am terrible with; constantly saying "Good girl" when really all H is doing is what is expected of her. Instead of this I've started the "object and action" approach, so stating "You're cleaning your mess" or "You're tidying your toys" instead of saying "Good girl" or "Good job".

3) Set the bar high - I do way too much for H because it is either easier or I don't think she can do it herself. It's amazing what she actually can do when given the opportunity. One small thing she has started doing after only three weeks at Montessori is taking her plate to her table to eat and bringing it back to the sink to clean after her meal. This sounds small but is a HUGE development for her, considering just weeks ago she would throw food on the floor and expect me to clean it up - because I would! She has also started wiping down her table after her meal and the satisfaction she gets is huge. Our house isn't really set up for anything more (preparing food herself etc) but I'm working on it.

4) Don't punish - The PTP leader has really encouraged me to make WAY less of a big deal out of H's digressions - her hitting, pushing, shreaking etc. - and instead simply divert her attention. My major draw card at the moment is "Can you hear that?" - it immediately pulls her out of a dark mood as she strains to listen, and I usually just make something up like a plane or a bird. When she throws something, I ask her if she would like to come outside and throw a ball. If she pushes or hits at the park I either immediately take her for a walk elsewhere or straight home. This is particularly good for H who just thrives on attention, negative or positive. I immediately cringe whenever someone scolds her (her Dad, a friend, etc.) because I know she's only bound to repeat the behaviour. So diverting instead of punishing is a great alternative and seems to be working well so far - she actually hasn't pushed much for a while.

5) Set up your home - Okay, I lie, I haven't done this yet but I'm in the process of making our home Montessori friendly. I am purchasing this shelving system with wooden shelves from Ikea and setting them up with some of H's toys as well as some "activities", and also getting rid of a whole heap of toys. There are SO MANY blogs out there with advice on how to Montessori-fy your home as well as great Montessori activities for toddlers. This is especially great at Christmas time, because there is an excellent excuse for getting a lot of new activities and getting rid of those that aren't appropriate.

Some of my fav Montessori blogs so far are:

1) Jacaranda Tree 

2) How We Montessori

3) Three Oaks Blog

I'm very new to this so I'm sure there are WAY more amazing blogs but there is enough inspiration on these three alone to keep you going for months. Whether you believe in Montessori's philosophies or not, there are so many great ideas for infant and toddler activities on these blogs, they are truly worth checking out.

Meanwhile today, I set up a small activity based on those we've worked on at PTP. It is really so easy once you get inspired. I picked up some coloured bag clips from Coles for $2.50 and used some little boxes from my Lipton Tea as containers.

I directed H in the beginning, showing her how to sort the clips into colours, count the colours, line them up etc. She was engaged for about fifteen minutes which is pretty cool! I will probably rotate this one out again in a few weeks.

My little worker

Anyway, I am really hoping to keep you updated as I implement some of the home improvements - toy shelves and activities, kitchenware, making my benches accessible and so forth - so please stay tuned!

Z x

The Mummy Guilt

While being a Mum can be difficult at times, it's generally nothing I wasn't prepared for. Sleepless nights were a given. Tantrums, while more difficult to cope with than I probably imagined, were expected. It's shitty when your kids are sick but nothing I can't handle.

The one thing about motherhood that I wasn't prepared for is the constant, unrelenting feeling of guilt that accompanies the role. I swear, 90% of the time I feel guilty about something. And it SUCKS.

This week has been hard, guilt wise. I was struck down with a nasty sinus infection which only cleared up yesterday, so it's safe to say I haven't been on my game, Mum-wise. There's been a little too much TV watching. Not enough lovingly prepared, healthy meals. Lots of snappy moments. Story times have been cut short. And, worst of all, H has been to daycare 3 days IN A ROW for the first time EVER and I feel TERRIBLE.

H started daycare when she was 14 months old on Mondays and Wednesdays and it's never been a problem - she loves it. I also never felt guilty about it as I was working, which I feel is a positive thing for both of us. More recently I left my job and haven't been working on those daycare days. So there's massive guilt surrounding that, but I don't want to pull her out as I want to keep her place for when I start working again.

Meanwhile, we've changed her days to Wednesday/Thursday - this was going to be the first week of two consecutive days, then we went and upped the intensity by asking for an extra day on Tuesday because I was confined to bed. Because J had to drop off and pick up on Tuesday, she was at daycare pretty much from 7.30 until 6, which BROKE MY HEART - I was actually covered in blankets sobbing at 5.30pm imagining her waiting for me. Then both yesterday and today she has told me that she is "Not going to daycare anymore again!" which just fills me with self worth.

Ultimately I have to continually remind myself that these are really small things and are not going to affect her long-term - she will not remember this one week that she had three long days at daycare (which of course many kids do, but their Mums are working!), and she will not become a serial killer just because she watches TV for 45 minutes each evening.

When I do cook her beautiful meals she doesn't actually eat them, and for all those mistakes I do make she's pretty damn lucky to be loved and cared for as much and as well as she is. I mean, I'm a disorganised, indulgent sap most of the time but I couldn't love the kid more. Still, the guilt lingers.

I even feel guilt towards my unborn child - guilty that I don't get time to sit and daydream about him/her as much as I did with H, guilty that I haven't eaten as well or exercised as much as I did the first time, guilty for that wine I had with dinner the other night and guilty that as loved and wanted as s/he is it's sadly all about bossy big sister at the moment. It's exhausting!

As much as I talk myself down, I just don't think the guilt will ever leave me - it comes with the territory, right?

What have you felt guilty about this week?

Z x

The Leisurely Stroll

Those of you with small children will know that there is nothing more relaxing than taking a stroll with a toddler.

Except, well, anything else you can think of.

Walks with toddlers - when they refuse to sit in their pram or you naively think "It's just around the corner - let's leave the stroller at home" - are laborious events that take approximately 700 times longer than they reasonably should and leave you needing a stiff drink at 11am.

This sweet picture is somewhat misleading...

In my house, the Toddler Walk is a five step process.

Step One - Actually Leave the House

This is more difficult than it sounds when the toddler in question refuses to eat breakfast, wear a nappy, brush their teeth and hair or get dressed. Each of these tasks takes at least 20 minutes of bribing and coaxing and has an 80% chance of ending in a tantrum, which can last anywhere from 10-30 minutes. Meaning preparing to leave takes a minimum of 1.5 hours and can take much longer on a bad day. On top of this you need to prepare snacks and water just to walk to the park 500 metres away, knowing that said walk will probably be a twenty minute trip each way and you may not even make it to the park before nap time.

Step Two - Begin Walking

This sounds simple, right? I mean it's a one foot in front of the other type situation. WRONG! Once on the footpath, your toddler is wont to decide s/he would like to sit down. Perhaps take her shoes off. Certainly take her hat off. Allow at least ten minutes for setting off in the right direction.

Step Three - Keep Child on Task

The footpath that we take for granted is a place of wonder and fascination for a toddler. Flowers? They'll need to be inspected for some time. Dog poo? There's going to be a conversation about that. Leaves? Don't seem interesting, but did you ever know there were so many different types? You will need to constantly remind your child of the final destination and encourage them to keep moving, which may lead to one or more tantrums. This brings me to...

Step Four - Mitigate Dramas

No walk with a toddler is drama free. Parents can be faced with all kinds of obstacles, including preventing their children from picking all the neighbours prized roses, begging them to PLEASE not touch the dog poo, calming down a child who suddenly insists they never wanted to go to the park in the first place or desperately ringing a neighbours doorbell in hope of retrieving their child's favourite book, which was dropped into a locked mailbox. Drama mitigation can be aided by the dispensing of snacks, which often means all snacks have been exhausted by the time you arrive at your destination and your child declares they are starving.

You may have now reached your destination. Frequently, you may have turned back only five houses from yours when you decided it was all too hard. If you did make it, congratulations! It's now time for...

Step Five - Carry Them All The Way Home

No way are you going through that again, even if you are four months pregnant and your child weighs over 14 kilograms. It's not worth the hassle.

There are many fun things to do with a toddler - a walk is generally not one of them. Savour the pram for as long as you can!

Z x

Sick!

Ah! Life is such a cow sometimes, am I right?! Little Miss has managed to pass her deathly flu onto not only me but members of our extended family after a family event on the weekend, so we're all just dealing with that at the moment.

On Monday the two of us were home sick together and managed to lie in bed most of the day, which was sort of nice in its own way until I became convinced I was going to die and needed to go to hospital. At this point my much more rational husband had to come home and talk me down (as well as apply cool cloths to my head and feet, which helped!).

So we have been a sick little family, and hopefully dear little growing baby hasn't been affected too much - according to my doctor Mum cops it harder to shield bub, which is equal parts comforting and disappointing.

Meanwhile sickness has brought another unexpected surprise - epic, out of this world tantrums! Hooray! I am trying to remain zen about this "phase" but my own sickness and pregnancy has seen me be more of an emotional wreck than ever this week. This morning I burst into tears during tantrum, after tantrum and then later when recollecting tantrum, due to feeling helpless, relieved and guilty respectively.

We have just started the Parent Toddler Program (PTP) at our local Montessori School, so my current strategy for dealing with tantrums is to Montessori-fy the home. I have enlisted J to build a Montessori-style toy shelf (see here) and am in the process of stripping back H's cupboards so that everything is age and season appropriate, meaning she will be able to select her own outfit each day and not have a fit about whatever it is I choose.

Hopefully this is effective! I will try to update you more on our learnings and experiences at Montessori as our term continues. We have just put our names down on the school's wait list and are kind of praying to get in after a tour last week.

Okay, I am going to go and have a lay down while I can!

Z x

High Temps All Round

Sydney is a toasty 34 degrees today, with killer winds to boot. From where I'm sitting the sky is an ominous black-orange hue and the air is thick with smoke that the pyro in me can't help but inhale with glee. Somewhere (the Blue Mountains I think) fires are burning, despite a total fire ban in place across the city.

Meanwhile, someone else is feeling the heat too - little H has a temp of 38.3 and rising. I've just administered Panadol and am hoping this eases some of her pain, which has made itself evident by her falling asleep randomly twice today. Usually sleep during the day is a well planned bonus so this was very unlike her.

Anyway, I am such a hopeless nurse I have stripped her down and popped her in front of the television. This is my constant struggle at the moment - limiting TV intake to a child who would do nothing but watch it if she could. So I'm feeling pretty bad about using it as my babysitter this afternoon, but honestly, what else does one do with a sick child? How many stories can I read before we both go slightly bonkers?

If we weren't a household of invalids, we would likely be cooling off at the beach or pool this afternoon. But come December, we will almost certainly be cooling off at the new WET AND WILD SYDNEY!!

Woohoo!

I am a theme park aficionado from way back and Wet n' Wild was always my absolute favourite, combining my love of adrenaline with my love of water. Clearly many others feel the same, because not only does it always have the longest queues, but they're now opening a second one in good ol' Sydders.

I am beyond excited despite a) Pregnancy meaning I won't be able to go on any of the rides this summer and, b) Serious concerns about the crowds. If nothing else I can see H and I lounging by the Wave Pool or going crazy in the kiddie section and I have already enlisted my husband to be my sister's new ride partner. I've heard complaints about the prices but $120 will get you 21 visits, which is pretty darn affordable I reckon - particularly given the price for single entry is set to be around the $70 mark.

Well, with that in mind I'm off to stick my head in the freezer. Bring on healthy toddlers and local water parks!

Z x

Cafes are Super Fun Happy Places!

Today writer Catherine Deveny has tried something entirely refreshing for her (!) and written a column that's entire purpose is to invoke controversy and vitriol, thus increasing her exposure across social and other media. As much as Deveny perpetually shits me to tears and I'm loathe to give her the intended reaction, I feel I simply must respond.

You see, she has written an (actually often amusing) article bemoaning the trend towards taking children to cafes. I'm not going to argue with her on one point - kids in cafes are absolute nightmares. I wrote about it myself pre-child and I still agree. But given the number of mothers with small kids I know, all of whom sometimes frequent cafes, I can hardly describe such mums as "wishing they were cool" or "cultured" - in fact I think she's misreading the looks of terror on their faces from the moment they walk in the door as "smug". Perhaps a course in body language is required.

I mean, don't get me wrong. I absolutely LOVE taking my two year old into a cafe. I love wrangling her stiff and screaming body into a high chair while she kicks my pregnant stomach with the strength of someone possessed. It's so FUN to have my coffee while she throws fruit at me and screams "muffin". I get so MUCH out of conversations with friends that are constantly interrupted by my child banging her head against the table. It's just a relaxing and enjoyable experience all round! Particularly if I'm there with a girlfriend who also has a toddler - double the laughs! Good times!

By now you're sitting there saying, "Okay, we get it, she hates cafes with her kids - so why does she take them?"

The short answer is, I don't know. I'm bored shitless at home? I like being reminded that there is civilisation outside of parks and children's' play centres? I'm completely bonkers?

But having a think about it I guess I can pinpoint two central reasons.

Firstly, I have many friends of an entirely different breed to myself - childless friends. These strange beings are completely oblivious to the often horrific reality of toddlers, let alone toddlers in a confined adult-centred space, and can't understand why they need to be subjected to my cheap tea and bad cooking when they could be frequenting their favourite local haunt. Often, they suggest meeting up in a cafe. How cute, I imagine they think. I'll catch up with my friend and her totally cute baby and then post a pic on Instagram! Fun!

Little do they know this will turn out to delay their own childbearing by a minimum of three years. I suppose I agree to such outings because it's really a one off - as soon as they've done it once, it's Bushell's and undercooked brownies at my place for all future catch ups.

Secondly, I think sometimes I genuinely forget. I mean, I was a normal person for twenty plus years before I had a child. I could go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted (wow, I'm getting depressed now) and trips to the cafe were almost a daily occurrence. Sometimes I wander in for a coffee before I realise what I'm doing, and before I know it I'm covered in strawberry milkshake and ordering a side of Valium. I can't count the times I've said "never again" but then I find myself there two weeks later reliving the horror.

I've only been at this for two years and maybe I'm just getting used to the fact that I'm now a mother, which means I come complete with an utterly delightful little monster and am apparently no longer welcome in cafes or other civilised public locations. But hey, this motherhood gig is hard, so I urge the Deveny's of the world to put some headphones in and thank GOD you're reading the paper alone while we're dealing with the feral kids. Our kids probably could be somewhere more appropriate than a cafe, but let us work that out for ourselves.

And Then There Were Two

Lately, blogging, writing, cooking and other things I enjoy have been sidelined. Firstly because the last six weeks have been consumed with traveling, including getting ready to travel and recovering from said travel. We enjoyed a beautiful family holiday in the US that was for once largely devoid of drama and left me feeling relaxed and motivated.

Secondly, and more truthfully, I've neglected my hobbies due to my second pregnancy, which we found out about in early July. This little baby was very wanted and we were ecstatic to find out about his/her imminent arrival. That said, I quickly realised how easy I had it the first time around. This pregnancy came complete with round-the-clock nausea and absolute exhaustion, which I'm sure was exacerbated by having a toddler around. I actually remember thinking "How can I ever do this again?" although now that I'm feeling better I'm already forgetting quite how bad I felt.

Our holiday was the light at the end of the tunnel that is the first trimester, and I came home well and truly out the other side. I'm now at the infinitely more pleasant stage of burgeoning baby bumps and exciting tummy flutters and finally feel ready to re-enter the kitchen without gagging. Toddler nap times can officially be used more productively than me falling asleep on the lounge for two hours and foods other than bread and pasta have recently been reintroduced to my diet.

I'm sure that baby number two will bring many more challenges to overcome and many more heart melting moments, and with those many more stories to share. Right now I am enjoying being home, being warm and spending time with my dear H, who has benefited from some much needed Daddy time over the holidays and seems to be reassessing the choice of "No!" as her favourite word.

More to come soon,

Z x

Sleep Whispering

I feel like quite a few of my blog posts recently have involved me whinging about the behaviour of my toddler. I'll be honest, I could write another one tonight - two year old's are full on. I've been completely exhausted these last few weeks and kind of had a brain snap today which resulted in my husband coming home early to rescue me (or perhaps our daughter). But I want to write about something positive, because of course motherhood is more positive than negative and while my daughter isn't the best behaved toddler on the block there are many things she does very well.

One of these is sleep. She has slept twelve hours a night, sometimes more, uninterrupted since six months old. Prior to this she woke once a night from six weeks old. No matter what issues we've had during the day, which have included some nasty illnesses and minor accidents, her sleep of an evening has been pretty much unaffected. Two exceptions have been when she had hand foot and mouth and needed to be rocked to sleep, and a bout of 5/5.30am waking at around eight months old. That's it.

I definitely believe some of this comes down to luck - and genetics - I myself am a great sleeper. My husband is a restless sleeper and apparently was as a child too. That said, I've always been very strict when it comes to sleep. We have a young relative who has always been a nightmare sleeper and we always said we'd do whatever it took to avoid the issues her parents have with her. So from day one I didn't want any nonsense at bed time.

I don't claim to be an expert when it comes to sleep. Hardly - I've pulled my hair out over naps more times than I can count. I'm also aware that many will disagree with my approach. But I've definitely learnt a lot these past few years, including the fact that of all my mother's group, every single mother has eventually resorted to teaching their child to self settle, whether they did it at one month or one year.

This is the aim!

With that in mind, these are my top tips for teaching your child to sleep:

1) ROUTINE: Put your child to bed at the same time every night, and establish a firm bedtime routine - ours is bath, books, bed, but really whatever winds your child down and signals sleep time is fine. We were completely uptight with H and always had her in bed by 7pm from two weeks old, which of course meant that we always needed a babysitter or only one of us could head out, but do I regret it? No WAY. I will do it again. Once the child is sleeping well there is room to wiggle - we sometimes head out until 8.30pm or so these days and H copes, as long as she is back to her now bedtime of 7.30pm the next night.

2) Never rock your child to sleep: Now of course, you can rock your child to sleep if you bloody well like, I don't care. But if you really want to establish good sleeping habits, resist the temptation. Don't just leave them to "cry it out" - I genuinely spent HOURS patting H to sleep to the sound of white noise on my iPhone rather than rock her. It wasn't easy. But it worked, eventually.

3) That said, crying isn't lethal: I always cringe when I see a parent run to their child's every whimper. The only way a baby can communicate is to cry. If you actually allow your child to cry, you will quickly be able to determine what kind of cry it is you're hearing - I became an expert at distinguishing the "I'm tired and I'm putting myself to sleep" cry and the "I'm tired but I'm so bloody tired I'll never get to AAAAAAAH" cry. The latter required intervention (and still does!) while the former really NEEDED to be ignored so my daughter could put herself to sleep. It was usually about a ten second cry with a 15-30 second gap in between cries.

4) Keep them out of your bed: My aforementioned relative is nearly eight and still climbs into Mum and Dad's bed every night. If you're okay with this, great. My husband and I are totally not. We are both tall and our bed is full. We need our time to ourselves and we don't plan to have an only child, so it's just not practical for us. I let H sleep with me ONCE and it took days to undo that damage. Months of sleeping together could take up to a year to undo - if, as I say, you don't want that, then just don't start. It's not worth it.

5) Napping - sometimes they just WON'T sleep: H was always a difficult napper and can still be tough. That said, due to my anal tendencies I persevered and she generally naps very well. Still, there were so many days where she would have a 20 minute sleep or simply not sleep at all and I would sit for HOURS patting and shushing and singing and ending up having a meltdown. I would have been far better off getting her up, having a play and trying again in an hour. I think I just put so much focus on her sleeping that I had my blinkers on. As much as I would do it all the same way, I would definitely take a more relaxed approach to naps. If you do it right at night, the day will largely take care of itself, and from mothers groups and the like I've learnt that all kids nap VERY differently.

6) Wrap: I had to wrap my daughter SO tight as a baby in order for her to settle. Most Mums do this anyway these days but it's worth mentioning - I used Love Me baby wraps.

7) White Noise: I downloaded a White Noise baby app on my phone when H was about three weeks old and she went to sleep to the tune of rain for weeks afterwards. H started sleeping 7pm-4am at six weeks but would then be really hard to settle back down, and white noise really saved us then too - it just settled her right down. Apparently it sounds like the mother's womb, which comforts them. Can't recommend this enough!

8) Use a comforter: We used a dummy with H which is totally cheating but I swear, I will use it again. Unfortunately she still has it, which is annoying as she is not only two but looks closer to three, but I really couldn't give a stuff what anyone thinks. I know she will give it up when I can be bothered to make her. As well as the "Dum Dum" we gave H a stuffed bunny that she still takes to bed with her today - it is great as not only a sleep signal but a comfort at bed time.

Honestly, it is just that simple. It's not EASY, but it's simple. Obviously there are always other issues at play - personality, disposition, size, health and so forth. But the majority of healthy, well fed and tired babies should be able to sleep at least six hours straight at night. If you're lucky enough to have one who sleeps all night, woohoo! You might just get one who gives you the run around all DAY to make up for it.

Z x

Tips and Tricks of the Parenting Trade

Last week I went along to a parenting night organised by my mother's group. One of the girls had heard a child behavioural expert, Janet Cater, speak at her daughter's daycare and contacted her about meeting with us one evening as a group to answer all our most pressing questions. Being that we all have terrible two year olds, there were many questions indeed.

Funnily enough, she started the night off by joking that although she is an expert, she doesn't have any great advice for two year olds, who are apparently in a league of their own - "Get back to me when they're three," I believe her advice was, which was excellent considering they're all just turning two. What a year we're in for!

As I've said before, I've been dealing with challenging behaviours for MANY MONTHS so I'm hoping by 2.5 we'll have outgrown the terrible two phase. This is unrealistic but it gets me by. Whatever works, right?

Despite the fact that Janet has no advice for parents of two year olds she did have lots of practical advice for dealing with very specific behaviours such as hitting (hooray!), tantrums, jealousy of younger siblings and so forth. She also gave some interesting insights into the way toddlers' brains work and why they're sometimes impossible to reach.

Since meeting Janet, I've been a very PC parent! There have been no "NO"'s, no finger pointing, and certainly no use of the dreaded "N" word (naughty, that is). This has lasted three days and while it is wearing thin, it actually has been effective. Here are the three major strategies I've been using:

1) Talking LOTS about gentle touches

"Oh look how gently Mummy is touching baby dolly. Can you show me how to gently touch baby dolly?" etc. See what I mean, totally PC! H is very motherly and LOVES stroking her assortment of dolls and stuffed animals, so this part is easy.

The more challenging part is when we leave the house. I have to address her before we leave and ask her to please remember her gentle touches. Then when we're out, if she hits or pushes, I need to address the VICTIM and ask if s/he's okay, then explain that H is still learning about gentle play and she forgot her gentle touches. THEN I need to address H and remind her to remember gentle touches, or we'll take a break. PHEW! It's more laborious than just saying no but I can definitely see it being effective in the long run. Parents of hitters, give it a go!

2) Talking lots about sharing

Janet said that the majority of children hit because they simply don't understand sharing, and if this is coupled with a dominant personality (um, yep!) it can be more of a significant "problem". H doesn't have any siblings yet so she really has no idea about sharing. Honestly, we have barely ANY behaviour problems at home and I think this is down to the fact that H has reign of the house. She actually has a great attention span and is very independent, so can play alone happily for upwards of 45 minutes - as long as no one gets in her way! Then it's on.

So, I've realised that I need to play more with her at home and really focus this time on sharing. Janet suggested setting up activities that are targeted at taking turns, such as games of knocking things down or building things together. I've really focused on talking about "turns" over the last few days so hopefully this will pay off.

3) Singing about everything

Lots of the Mums present last week are having issues when it comes to feeding, dressing or getting in the bath. You know, just that every day necessary kind of stuff that turns in World War III. Personally, as soon as I say "Let's get dressed" H runs screaming to her room and sits in a borderline fetal position in the corner (another great strategy for dealing with this has been laying clothes out the night before and getting her dressed the second she wakes up - still half asleep).

Janet's suggestion was to use a song to kind of distract the toddlers from the fact they don't want to be doing whatever it is they don't want to be doing. I used to do this a lot but I've found the more stressed I get the more all my strategies fly out the window and I turn into a crazed monster, so it was good to be reminded. Since then I've been making up excellent songs such as "When you put your leggings on you look so very nice/ Put your top on too and then we'll go and eat some rice" - it actually does work.

I did learn some other useful tips, such as always waiting 15 seconds after an instruction to give them time to process and not even bothering to talk to your child in the middle of a tantrum, as they actually can't function rationally at that point (body contact and a calm attitude is best, naturally). I purchased Janet's book, Why Won't My Child Listen?, because let's face it I read everything and I'm into that kind of thing, but I don't know how necessary it would be to those who aren't obsessive infoholics like myself. Most of her advice was VERY practical and no nonsense, which is in my opinion the best type of advice but not necessarily something you need to pay for.

For me, it was a great reminder to be patient and not always resort to the negative, so it was worth every penny.

Z x

The Nine Lives of Monsieur Bun Bun

My daughter has a stuffed bunny rabbit that somehow ended up with the name "Mr Bun Bun". That's "Bun Bun" for short, which fits in with the other uniquely named items in our house such as Dum Dum (Dummy), Bot Bot (Bottle) and Bum Bum (Bottoms).

Mr Bun Bun is an interesting looking guy. He started out all cute and cuddly, a gift from a friend at my baby shower, but was soon carted everywhere from the park to overseas holidays, and now looks like he's been living life on the streets for at least ten years. Sadly, he is not even a full two years old - he is actually a replacement for the original bun bun, who was sacrificed somewhere on the cobbled streets of a small French village. He was bought for H on her first birthday from her Great Nanna, making him one next month.

Mr Bun Bun II has become even more of an attachment than his predecessor, which means he comes EVERYWHERE with us. Literally everywhere. I try to "forget" him as often as possible because GOD FORBID we're out and another child tries to take him (the horror!) but when I do it's often more trouble than it's worth. Mr Bun Bun is the one, ahem, 'person' guaranteed to soothe a tantrum and help us get from A to B with minimum drama.

The sad side effect of taking Mr Bun Bun wherever we go is that he frequently gets lost. On each occasion that he does go missing, I quake with fear - what will we do without him? We can't replace him - we've tried that. And anyway, he's basically a member of the family. It would just be too sad.

Thankfully it appears Mr Bun Bun has nine lives. More, actually. Try and try again, you just can't keep him down.

He's been lost at daycare, of course, multiple times. In fact he's even been taken home by another child with a verrrrry similar but not-quite-the-same bunny. But we've sorted those ones out.

Then there was the time he was left in a busy park. Overnight. I thought he was a goner. We returned at 7am the next day to find him, covered in a thin layer of dew and sitting up comfortably on a park bench.

We thought we'd never see him again when he disappeared on a long walk between home and our local play centre. The next time we visited the centre I looked in the lost property basket on a hunch and there, low and behold, was Mr Bun Bun. I almost cried that time.

How about in Auckland, when he vanished somewhere in the suburb of Newmarket, where I'd been in and out of approximately 50 shops. I retraced my steps PERFECTLY and found nothing, returning to the car despondent and buying H a really ugly soft toy called "Ugly Bear" to compensate. Driving back I was struck with genius - "THE CUPCAKE SHOP!" - and quickly chucked a U-ey with one last futile hope. He was there.

Just last weekend he was dropped on a bushwalk, but the couple who came down the track after us recognised him as a beloved treasure and propped him up on the side of the track where we couldn't miss him.

And then, finally, there was this weekend past, when we drove north to my parents and realised when we got there he was gone. Dimly, I remembered H playing with him when we got our coffee that morning and thinking to myself "Don't forget Mr Bun Bun." My hopes were low. Surely, I thought, his lives are up.

We walked up the road at 6pm last night, not even thinking the cafe would be open, but it was! At 6pm! On a Sunday! I walked inside with a look of what I hoped was desperation on my face.

"Has anyone handed in a really dilapidated looking bunny?"

"YES! He's out in the back room."

Of course he is. The girls in the cafe looked very excited to have had the bunny claimed, and came out making funny voices and wiggling him at my daughter, who screamed "BUN BUN!!!" in pure delight.

"We thought he looked very loved," said one of the girls.

You don't know the half of it.

Z x

Taming Trolls

I try to stand back from the whole social media thing as much as possible. I use it but I don't let everyone know what I'm having for breakfast and I try not to be too opinionated about anything - that's what my blog is for!

I LOVE Twitter for the fact that I follow some really interesting people and brands, so it keeps me up to date on news, current affairs, random trends and great buys or bargains. I far prefer Twitter over Facebook in this sense, although Facebook also has its place. I enjoy getting updates from people I don't see too often and can get sucked into the voyeurism of it, although recently I feel like it's just a breeding ground for bragging and bitching.

Sadly, this has become increasingly evident since I became a Mum. I'd actually deleted my Facebook account prior to this but decided to sign up again when my new mother's group decided to create a page - which, it must be said, has been a LIFESAVING resource for information, support and friendship. Still, more and more of my Facebook friends are now mothers, and more and more of the pages I follow are targeted at parents.

Recently I'd noticed that many of these pages were becoming pretty catty. I even noticed one friend, who I only know through family and is more of an acquaintance, continually posting negative comments on some of the "Mummy" forums she follows, which I'm not sure if she realises pops up in others' news feeds. One page that I have followed since day one on my motherhood journey and is responsible for many of my online shopping purchases, Babyology, also showcased a disturbing trend towards judgement and downright abuse.

The kinds of things I'm talking about is people saying a photo of a Dad holding a bottle with his chin is "awful". "Disgusting". People calling a mother "irresponsible" and "stupid," saying she should be "ashamed" because she wore her baby front facing in a Bjorn carrier - apparently bad for the hips. It's getting to be more than I can stand.

Thankfully, Babyology have been all over the news this week after their decision to delete negative or abusive comments and block repeat offenders. Most have welcomed this decision, because of course most of us are normal people who are able to function in society without being rude, judgemental and even threatening. But the amount of people out there who can't seem to do this is getting kind of frightening.

I would definitely welcome laws proposed by former Chief Justice Alistair Nicholson, who wants to make cyber bullying punishable by law. Personally I would probably cry myself to sleep if a stranger called me disgusting on Facebook for a simple parenting choice or hell, even something I was wearing, so these people need to learn their comments can be harmful and be punished accordingly.

What I'm REALLY interested in, though, is why women (because it's mostly women, let's face it) feel compelled to behave in this way. Do people genuinely feel that others should be ashamed because they choose to do things differently to them? Or are they just uneducated? Misinformed? I'd love to see some kind of study into the issue.

I know for me it's amazing how an image or article about parenting that shows things a little differently to my own experience can sometimes bring up strong feelings of guilt, remorse, or even smugness. Certainly there are things I've done along the way that really worked for me, and when I see others doing things differently I do feel like putting my two cents in and offering advice or an opinion - but I try to keep my mouth shut, because really people are capable of making their own decisions, even if I think they're mistakes.

That said, there are also things I felt I could have done differently, so occasionally I have the opposite feeling, something like inadequacy. I wonder if some of these women are simply reacting to similar feelings within themselves, with little thought to how they might look or sound voicing them aloud? Perhaps people are still not aware of just how PUBLIC social media is, and instead view it as an anonymous medium on which to vent. Little do they realise they'd be far better off shouting it in their best friend's face than typing it for the world to see behind the perceived "safety" of their computer screen.

Regardless of the why, I think social media junkies in general could take a leaf out of my Grandmother's book - if you don't have anything nice to say, refrain from saying anything at all.

Z x

The Housewives

I am, to use the old fashioned word, a "housewife". I work only two days per week and even on those days, I'm the main person in charge of getting our daughter to and from childcare. I'm responsible for all the household-y kinds of duties, like cooking, washing, cleaning, ironing and the day to day child rearing.

I'm totally cool with this arrangement, given that my husband works crazy hours in order to provide a house for us to live in and food for us to eat. We each fulfill our own share of the needs hierarchy, and I'm sure roles could be reversed if either of us wanted them to be. But neither of us is interested in doing what the other does, so our system works well.

Sadly though I'm not a very good housewife in the traditional sense of the term. Like right now, for example, I'm sitting here on my laptop with a giant basket of washing in front of me, play-dough all over the floor and a sink full of dishes waiting to be done. I've just watched over an hour of reality television while playing Candy Crush Saga on my smart phone. My poor husband.

Recently I've developed a...uh...fondness for the American "Reality Housewives" series. It started with a few episodes of the Beverley Hills version and escalated when there was a marathon screening while I was doing the ironing. This led to me watching Beverley Hills, Vancouver and New Jersey in the one day. Now? I'm hooked.

If you haven't seen Real Housewives, it's like watching a train-wreck unfold slowly over the course of 45 minutes. It is just truly terrible, vicious, humanity-at-its-worst kind of viewing. Which of course makes it AMAZING and ADDICTIVE. The Real Housewives of New Jersey is like, next level crazy. The insanity of it is just so epic that I can't look away. Strangely I think the craziness of it stems from the fact that it's probably the least staged of all the series, which is just plain scary but also allows for that element of true voyeurism you don't get with the other versions.

The most recent episode from Season 5, which incidentally happened to be the first one I caught before downloading Season 1, involved an all in fisticuffs between three men who I believe were brother and brothers-in-law while multiple women surrounded them tearing their hair out and screaming. Excellent.

Season 1 sees the "housewives" spending their days at the hair salon and bitching about each other (mostly one in particular, model/stripper "Danielle" who I personally believe is a sociopath) before culminating in a dinner at which one o' the gals upends a table while shrieking at another. It's truly gripping viewing (no, really, it is). I'm onto Season 2 now and while I'm getting a little over some of the drama (Danielle I'm looking at you girlfriend) I'm still getting my kicks.

So, fellow housewives, be you lazy and technology addled like myself or your very own breed of anti-stereotype, be sure to remind your husbands that at least you don't look like this:

The Table Flip

I may have questionable taste but I genuinely recommend this show, if only for a good laugh. Who knows, you might learn how to speak Jersey.

Z x

When My Husband Cooks

Like many mothers/wives/women in general, I often feel chained to my kitchen. It's the centre of our home and between breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks, plus countless cups of tea and sneaky trips to the fridge, it's where I spend the greater part of my days. Sometimes this all gets a little too much and I decide I need to do anything possible to avoid it, e.g. duck up to the local Sushi place.

Not to say that I don't love cooking - I do. I have a longstanding love affair with food - reading about it, making it and mostly eating it - and was one of those teenagers who actually asked to be gifted with cookbooks (and clothes!). These days though I don't choose to be in the kitchen so much as I'm obligated to in order to provide sustenance for like, a family. And I don't exactly have time to prepare a complex three course meal, at least not on weekdays. GOD ISN'T MY LIFE TOUGH?!

As you can see above I am quite a whinger, so my dear husband has clearly got the point that I get over cooking. As he is a dear and is always looking for ways to make my life easier, he usually offers to take over cooking duties on weekends. But often, like last night, this can be a chore too.

Now my husband isn't a bad cook. In fact, he's a great cook. He just doesn't do it that often. And when he does, he's a stickler for a recipe. He's one of those people that if a recipe stipulates carrots should be cut into 1cm pieces, he would measure them and they would all be the same. Me, on the other hand, well my version would have various sized chunks. Possibly even the top of the carrot. Come to think of it, I guess our differing approaches to cooking says a lot about our differing approaches to life!

So, because he doesn't cook a lot, and because he actually doesn't use the kitchen a lot, and because he's not great at freestyling, his cooking can take...well...time. There are some techniques he could use refreshing on...and he causes me to almost sound like my mother, with thoughts like "If I want something done I might as well do it myself" flashing through my mind before I, thankfully, stop them from reaching my mouth. 

To explain what I mean let me relay last night's scene:

J: "I'm going to cook tonight! Here's the recipe, you just cross off what we already have."

Z: "Okay..."

J: "Alright, H and I are going shopping, you relax!" (See he is a dear)

------  Time passes --------

J: "We're back! Okay now you watch H while I get this started."

Z: "Okay..."

J: "Um...do we have potatoes?"

Z: "Not unless you just bought potatoes?"

J: "SHIT. I forgot the potatoes. I need potatoes."

Z: "Alright, you get started and I will go back to the shops to get potatoes." (Feeling less relaxed)

-------- Time passes ---------

J: (Presents me with packet of cloves, labelled CLOVES.) "Are these cardomom pods?"

Z: "No, they're cloves"

J: "SHIT. We don't have cardomom pods."

Z: "Why don't you substitute it with ground cardomom?"

J: "...nah. I'm going to use these cloves."

Z: "Okay..."

------- Times passes ----------

J: "Should this be thickening?"

Z: "What does the recipe say?"

J: "It doesn't say anything about thickening but this doesn't look thick...I have to thicken it...how do you thicken it?"

Z: "Why don't you try turning the heat up and taking the lid off?"

J: "Okay...can you do it for me? And can you keep an eye on it for me?"

Z: "Okay..."

------ Time passes --------

J: "Have you seen the lid to the rice cooker?"

Z: "No, but it would be where it always is."

J: "I've looked there. It's not there."

Z: "Try the drawer next to it."

J: "I looked there too. It isn't there." (Sighs huffily and makes lots of noise)

Z: (Gets up, moves to look in drawer where lid is kept. Lid is sitting at top of drawer inside a bowl. First thing Z sees). "I found it!"

J: "Oh thanks, where was it!?"

Z: "It was literally on top of everything."

J: "Oh..."


Aren't I a harsh critic?! But really, sometimes I do think it would be easier if I just stayed in the kitchen. That said, reading this back it sounds a LOT like conversations between my Dad, who taught me to cook, and myself as a teenager. And Dad never kicked me out of the kitchen - he just kept answering my annoying questions until eventually, I didn't need to ask them anymore. I still call him when I have a kitchen mishap, desperately seeking advice - "WHY is my dough not rising?!" And he's still willing to help out.

So in future when my husband cooks, I will try to feel flattered that he needs my advice!

Z x

Confessions Of A Teenage Wannabe

I am so deeply uncool. I'm really uncomplicated, wear my heart on my sleeve and make no apologies for what I like, a list that includes terrible chick flicks and Posh Spice. I have a couple of cool friends, like actually cool ones, you know the type. They're kind of deep, and troubled, certainly not loud or chatty, and they just genuinely can't stand the sound of Taylor Swift. They don't even not care what others think - they just don't even think about that kind of stuff.

I also have LOADS of really uncool friends like myself, and these are of course my favourite type! There's nothing that cool about being cool. My sister is at the top of my uncool friend list, because I can share all of my terrible daggy obsessions with her without fear of judgement. That's one of the many beauties of sisters.

Anyway, we got to chatting the other day about our shared secret indulgences, including dancing around loudly to the aforementioned Miss Swift (OHMYGOD love her!) and potentially even...ahem...Ed Sheeran. I'm not proud of that one. But god, he really pulls at my heart strings.

Taylor and Ed TOGETHER *my teenage dream*

As we talked we developed the theory that inside every grown woman is the ghost of her teenage self. No matter how much I age, the phase of life that's most firmly etched in my memories - the songs, the scents, the scenery - is my teenage years. What is it about being a teenager that is so memorable, so formative and even a little scarring? For me I'd say it's a combination of boys, high school and hormones. First friendships, first loves, first losses.

My daggy obsessions kind of allow my inner teenager to escape, just for a few minutes or hours. Justin Bieber, Rihanna, nights indoors spent cheering 17 year old The X Factor contestants and ogling Guy Sebastian's new muscles. The Hunger Games, Twilight, any novel about teenagers who either a) Fall in love or, b) Live in a future/alternate universe (preferably both).

Don't get me wrong, quite often I want to be a grown up. I want to put on some critically acclaimed music and have a glass of wine and read about something serious. Sometimes you'll even catch me watching a foreign film or doing something REALLY sensible like paying bills (this is rare).

But sometimes I need to be a teenage girl again. I need to pump "22" and sing like my life depends on it, not thinking about how far I actually am from 22 and how old that sounded to me when I was 15. I need to dance with my daughter and pretend we have no responsibilities and no worries. Which we don't, really, but sometimes we both need a little reminding!

There's a lot to gain from being in touch with your inner teenager. I particularly felt this when I was teaching hoards of them each day, and needed to relate to them in order to gain their trust and, in turn, respect.

It reminds you how it felt to be young and carefree. It's an excellent means of empathising with teenagers in your own life, who feel they've got things pretty hard sometimes and let's face it, often they do. It prevents you from taking yourself too seriously. And it's really handy for learning all the words to Taylor Swift.

Z x

Getting Your Toddler to Eat Vegetables

Toddlers and Vegetables. Ah, these two things go together like...um...beetroot and peanut butter. Not well at all, is what I'm saying.

Getting some (most?) toddlers to eat vegetables is as challenging as keeping me away from carbohydrates for a week. It's not rare for me to put a plate of lovingly prepared meat, vegetables and pasta down in front of my toddler, only to return ten minutes later and find the meal completely in tact, sans pasta. Sigh.

So, I've ticked number 45 off of "List Of Things I Said I Wouldn't Do As A Parent" and started hiding vegetables. That's right, cocooning them in beds of pastry, disguising them among meatballs and even adding them to sweet treats. Who knows where you might find a sneaky vegetable if you should pop over for a visit!

Hiding vegetables has been marginally more successful than serving them straight up. Toddlers are smart and mine is particularly savvy/out to get me, so I feel like she really examines all her food before deciding if it's worth conceding valuable power points to eat it. Especially at dinner time, the meal of the day that is fraught with the most anxiety for me, a fact which my toddler knows and exploits at every opportunity.

Aaaaanyway my latest "invention" if you will was kind of a mashed vegetable pastie. I'd seen a recipe I wanted to try over at Phoodie, and didn't have all the ingredients on hand, so decided to freestyle - something that has a relatively low success rate in my kitchen but I continue to do anyway.

So, I chucked what was in my fridge - 1.5 large potatoes, half a kent pumpkin and a carrot, later followed by a few stalks of broccoli - into a pot of boiling water until tender and then mashed it all together.

From this...

To this...

I then got some puff pastry out of the freezer and cut it up as per Phoodie's instructions (into fours). I scooped about 3 TBSP of mash onto two squares and covered with the other two squares, repeating again to make four pies/pasties. I had lots of leftover mash, which I put into zip lock bags and froze for next time.

Assembling...

The leftovers

I brushed the tops with some beaten egg and cooked for about 20 minutes.

Amazing photography I know

These were devoured by both me and Miss H for dinner that night - meaning she ate approximately 3 tablespoons of mashed vegetables, double her weekly average. Next, I'm going to try making fried vegetable balls. Stay tuned for the riveting tale of my journey!

OH and P.S. - like any healthy food, these will need to be smothered in tomato sauce for optimum eating results. 

Any tips on fail-safe methods to get toddlers to eat their veggies? Or are we all in the same boat?

Z x