You know it’s a bad day when…

…you slam your own face into the car door while you’re opening it.

Yes, I hear your sniggers. And I totally understand – I mean, how is it even possible to do that? Can anyone really be that spacially challenged?

Well yes they can, because I did it this morning and now I have a fat and grazed lip. It’s actually quite painful.

…the tooth that you’ve just paid $200 to get fixed starts hurting again.

It’s very depressing. I rang the dentist and I think he used the word “root canal” but I’m hoping I misunderstood. I just feel like a whole world of pain is headed my way  – physical and financial – and I’m in denial.

…the clock loses time

Poor Picasso. We were late to school and I totally blamed his last-minute dash back to his room to get news. I blamed him – quite loudly – for the entire car trip. And then I got back home and realised the clock was actually 20 minutes late.

…the printer runs out of ink

And OF COURSE this happens when you’re working from home on something super urgent and you need to print something RIGHT NOW and that stupid yellow exclamation mark pops up on the little printer screen. Frustrating doesn’t begin to cover it.

Anyway as you can see, I had a bad day this week. It really sucked.

But it’s the Long Weekend…so things are looking up 🙂

A visit from the Tooth Fairy

For the past few weeks, Picasso has been struggling greatly with a very loose tooth.

It’s been painful to watch – everytime he had to eat anything, he would wince and complain. Given eating is generally one of his favourite things to do, I felt very sorry for him – we knew things were dire when he couldn’t finish the bacon and egg roll he’d ordered when we went out to lunch!  He just sat, depressed and quiet, looking mournfully at the rest of us eating.

Anyway, yesterday it finally came out.

I love that at 7 and a half, he still fervently belives in the Tooth Fairy – and also loves her dearly.

Not only does he leave his tooth out for her, he also writes her a little note.

This is what he wrote for her last night:

“Dear Tooth Fairy,

“I finally lost my tooth. It is my eighth tooth. I love you. I hope you have a good journey.”

What a sweetheart. Souljourneyboy and I felt that was definitely worth a $2 coin 🙂


It’s true…I have become my mother!

It’s official.

I have  become my mother.

For some time now, I’ve had an inkling that this might be the case. For example, I can no longer stay awake until the end of movies. When I was young it used to aggravate me beyond all measure that Mum would fall asleep before ever making it to the end of the show – I mean, wasn’t she interested? Didn’t she want to know what happened at the end?  Now, I reach my limit somewhere around 9:30pm and just look up the endings on wikipedia the next day.

And naps. I never understood why Mum would go off for a 20-minute kip in the afternoon. But just yesterday I found myself saying to Souljourneyboy, “I just need to shut my eyes for 20 minutes”. It was as though I was opening my mouth and her words were coming out!

I also found this entry while I was trawling through my Diary of a Teenage Girl. It was written on a day when Mum, Dad, myself and Soul Sister were getting ready to travel to my grandmother’s house:

Mum had her usual stress because we were just ten minutes late (I will NEVER do that).”

Hmm. Enough said.

And then the final clincher. Anyone who knows my Mum knows she is – expressive. If you want someone to be excited because you got an award or a payrise or even just found your lost socks, my Mum is your go-to girl. No-one does surprise and excitement like she does – it’s hilarious (and also very encouraging!) Well, a colleague of mine who doesn’t usually sit near me has been sitting at the desk next to mine for the past 3 weeks. The other day she said, ‘You know Em, I love sitting next to you. You are so funny to listen to on the phone. You really show everything you’re feeling. If you’re surprised, then you are SURPRISED. It’s awesome!”

Well, I’m glad I can bring some life to the office party, but all I could think of was – oh my goodness, I am my mother.
Lucky she’s amazing and I don’t really mind 🙂
How about you? What traits of your mother do you find yourself exhibiting as you get older?

Holiday Horribilis

So the first week of holidays is done and dusted. I don’t know what fabulous family activities anyone else got up to, but I thought I’d share some of the “highlights” of our week.


After a crazy day at work (which involved me giving an impromptu press conference in a field), I come home to Little Miss throwing up. The fun continues when Picasso starts as well, and I’m up half the night with buckets and towels.


Little Miss stays home from preschool, Picasso spends eight hours lying on his bean bag trying not to throw up and Souljourneyboy is sick with a virus.


General sickness abounds, with Picasso having recovered just enough to be cranky and irritable with all the world and everyone in it. We look back longingly at the bean bag days.


Half an hour after dinner, Picasso starts looking green, then throws up repeatedly all over the floor.

At 2am, Bookworm wakes us up saying he can’t breathe. I take him to the hospital, where he starts throwing up too. This seems to make him feel better; apparently the not-breathing was some kind of panicky reaction to being so sick. As Bookworm engages me in a long and complicated discussion on the public health system and income tax brackets, the unthinkable happens.

I start to feel nauseous.

I ignore it. I tell myself it’ a psychosomatic reaction to being in the hospital and having just watched Bookworm throw up. I cling to this wishful thinking as I drive home from the hospital and put Bookworm to bed with a bucket and lie down. Five minutes later I’m rushing to find a bucket of my own. Suddenly recall how, when Picasso was sick the other night, I lovingly stroked his forehead and said, “I wish I was sick instead of you”. WHY DID I SAY THAT? What was I thinking??? I take it back!!! It’s not that I want my kids to be sick, but as every family knows, there is nothing worse than the Mum getting sick.


Pretty much Indescribable Horror.


Indescribable Horror Part II. When I finally start to recover, I lash out on half a sao and a thimble-full of lemonade.


So I’m starting to feel better today, but about as weak as a kitten.

Our first week of holidays was not, shall we say, ideal. But there were some upsides – the weight loss, for one thing. And the kindness of my children. Little Miss made me numerous “get well” cards and paintings, while Bookworm and Picasso rushed to fetch lemonade and sao biscuits and blankets and anything else I said I needed. Another upside – Souljourneyboy’s uncomplaining dedication to taking care of us all on the weekend of horror. That’s the thing about marriage – we’ve seen each other at our worst – physically, emotionally, spiritually – and we’re both still here. That’s pretty cool.

One other thing happened on the weekend – my grandmother passed away. She was nearly 92, she slipped away peacefully, and I believe she has gone to her true home now. I was sad, of course, but there’s no other way I would rather go, having lived a full and complete life, knowing I leave a loving family behind me. It kind of puts everything else in perspective, including weeks like the one we’ve just had.

So on we charge into the week ahead – fingers crossed it does not include anything to do with buckets!

The Midnight Clan of Motherhood

It’s after midnight; the house is still. Poor Picasso and Little Miss are sick with a stomach bug and Souljourneyboy is coming down with it too. I’ve just cleaned up after Picasso twice in the last hour, given him a shower, changed his clothes and sheets and I’ve said I will stay up while he falls asleep.

Once more, I am part of the Midnight Clan of Motherhood.

It’s been a while  – I was a regular member a few years ago, when I was in the thick of breastfeeding and settling and sleep deprivation. I certainly don’t miss it; but I think there’s something wonderful in the universality of human experience – that at any given moment there are mothers (and fathers too – I shouldn’t be sexist) awake when everyone else sleeps, feeding their babies, cuddling them back to sleep, comforting them through sickness or sadness or bad dreams.

So here I am again, and I am reminded of a Judith Wright poem I always think of when my children are sick.

Lie quiet in the silence of my heart

I watching thee am turned into a cloud;

I guarding thee am spread upon the air.

Lie quietly; be covered by my love.

I will be rain to fall upon your earth;

I will be shade to hold the sun from you.

I am the garden beyond the burning wind,

I am the river among the blowing sand;

I am the song you hear before you sleep.

In being these, I lose myself in these.

I am the woman-statue of the fountain

out of whose metal breasts continually

starts a living water; I am a vase

shaped only for my hour of holding you.

This drought is but to turn me into a cloud.

This heat but casts my shadow cooler on you.

Turn to my breast your fever, and be still.

Picasso is asleep now. I stroked my hand over his forehead and down his nose, just like I did when he was a baby – it used to make him close his eyes. He is so big now.

And I am going back to bed. I pray that all you mothers (and fathers) out there who are still awake – feeding, comforting, settling – will get some sleep this night too.