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Terrible twos – Not a myth… August 13, 2012

Filed under: Uncategorized — mrsp23 @ 1:26 am


Image borrowed from here


It seems we’re going through a bit of a developmental phase with Little Guy here in Mrs P23 land. And not one of the nice developmental phases – I think there are a few of those?


Nope. Sadly, we’re in the thick of the Terrible Twos. Just when mum’s about to have another baby, so the timing is clearly perfect. The Terrible Twos suck.


Little Guy is two and three months. And a boy of extremes. He either is sweetness and light or a complete fucking shocker.


As the nursery rhyme goes, when he’s good, he’s very, very good. A complete charmer. Waving at people in shops randomly. Trying to engage anyone in chat all the time. Telling them funny stories he knows. Throwing his arms around me and other people he loves to cuddle randomly. Giving the best kisses ever – even butterfly kisses. Patting my belly and talking to baby. Telling me he loves me. Playing beautifully with his sister.  He’s even starting to help out around the house, getting things for me now that I’m a bit slow and elephant like. 


But yes, when he is bad, he’s horrid. A horrid little shit. The tantrums are huge and over nothing at all, the vast majority of the time.


Today’s tantrum was about me pulling into the Westfields carpark. Which is (apparently) devastating. 


It began with him screaming at the top of his very lungs “I don’t want to go to that shop – that shop is yuck!”. Numerous times. Shoes and socks were thrown off in the car in protest, at me. There was a lot more screaming. Many tears. Snot. Lots of snot. And lots of attempts at hitting me when I proceeded to put his shoes and socks back on.


Dude, I just wanted to go and get some vegetables… 


I contemplated going home, it was that. bad. But I hate the thought of pandering to this bullshit, so no. I am quite stubborn. Not really the mum that buys their kid a lollypop when they chuck a tanty. I really hate being told what to do by a child.


So, I dragged him, quite literally, through the carpark and we ended up at the greengrocers finally. Me huffing and puffing (he’s strong!). He, still screaming and lying on his back on the floor in protest. Awesome. 


My strategy? Just to ignore, ignore and ignore. I am sure people thought I was bonkers for doing nothing. But whatevs to that. If I had to pay attention to every one of them, I’d be at my wit’s end. Having said that, ignoring is not always easy. 


On Friday, I took both kids to the library and he did the same kind of thing. Lying on the floor, screeeeeeaming before we even walked in because his sister pressed the ‘up’ button on the elevator first. He lost the plot, and wouldn’t move, so I had to grab and lift him again, and he started smacking me around the face. As you do when you’re two and angry. The librarian even gasped! 


Anyway. Where am I going with this? I don’t know. I’m just trying to deal with it as best as I can. With the ignoring. And reiterating how not on this shit is.


When we’re at home, it’s straight to the corner for 2 minutes. Which he hates, and which genuinely seems like a punishment. And we don’t really hit. There have been a few smacks on the bum when things have gotten bad (like hitting his sister square on the nose, really hard, with a tennis racquet – bruise inducing!). But I don’t see the point of smacking him, when I’m trying to get him not to do it. And I take stuff away – his favourite stuff like his guitar, his favourite puppet. Which he is completely gutted about.  


But what about when you’re out and about, and they lose their shit? What do you do? Does anyone have any hot tips … because I tell you, I’m going to need them. Especially when this new baby arrives and I am suddenly in the thick of Babyland once more. 


I just want to raise a child that I not only love, but that I also like. 


Ideas appreciated! 




Stuff that makes me happy – Episode 1 August 9, 2012

Filed under: Mememe,Pregnancy,Stuff that makes me happy — mrsp23 @ 4:24 am


I’m 38 weeks + 2 days pregnant.


I was being a bit of a Debbie Downer this week – just doing the waiting thing while simultaneously grumbling about there being *no action* in Operation Delivery of Third Baby.


I could feel it – it felt heavy. I’d do lots of laundry in the hope that all the bending and stretching would stimulate something. I was being a bit of a mega-bitch to poor Mr P23 and just a grump to live with.


So. This morning I woke up and decided I needed a bit of a mind shift. I needed to take the advice that so many well-meaning peeps were giving – enjoy this time. I’m not quite sure how to do that, but I think I’ve given it a fair crack today…


Today, I vaccuumed (yes that makes me happy).


I took myself off to the movies to see The Sapphires (it’s a cute little flick btw).


I drank a GIANT frozen coke.


I ate 4 Turkish Delight tim tams. Slowly. In the sun. Where have you boys been all my life?


I read a trashy newspaper while having a spicy wonton noodle soup that did not have to be shared with anyone. And with no little people in sight, trying to steal my noodles.


I lay in the sun and ate 3 trays of ice-cubes in a row.


I can’t tell you how much better I feel now. And the day is young. I plan on having a few cups of rooibos, cooking something fun, and listening to trashy pop music loudly until it’s time to pick up the smalls. Because today may well be the last full day I have to myself for a very, very long time. It’s a bit hard to fathom.


But seriously, the absolute BEST thing that happened to me today was being stalked by this Polish woman while I bought my movie ticket. As I handed over my cash, she ran up to me, huffing and puffing, and telling me that she’d followed me. To ask me who did my hair because it looks amazing! I have to know!


Did I mention she was huffing and puffing? It was equally bizzaro and head-swell inducing at the same time. Dear Polish lady, you have made a pregnant lady’s day. I briefly felt like a fox, something I haven’t felt for a very long time.


Onwards and upwards. Time for some Stan Walker around these parts. xx


The final countdown… July 26, 2012

Filed under: Parenthood,Pregnancy,What goes on in my head — mrsp23 @ 11:19 am


Remember that song from the 80s? By Europe? I’m sorta humming it at the moment.


I’m in my final days I think, with this baby thing. It all feels very much like things are coming to a close.


The nesting is almost all done. I am fast running out of things to clean. I’ve been a bit like a woman possessed the last few weeks, no doubt painful to live with. And I say that as someone with a very tidy partner.


Walls have been sugar soaped. As have skirting boards and door rails. Light fittings and fans have been dusted. Wardrobes have been cleared out. All of them. Well, as much as you can do without knowing the baby’s gender. I finished washing all the baby’s clothes, wraps and linen weeks ago. Newborn nappies are stocked and stored. As are lots of wipes. And lavender bath oil. I have a thing about bathing newborns in lavender bath oil – it makes them smell more delicious, I think.


Today I washed the pram, detailed the car, and even gardened. Gardened! That says it all peeps, it’s most certainly coming to a close.


And I feel like I’m retreating a little. I don’t feel like venturing too far from home. I don’t feel like doing anything too adventurous. And I feel a little like I need to hold on to these last moments as a family of four. To be honest, my head is completely in the sand about many things – I find I just don’t care too much about what’s happening in the big wide world. Sorry world. I lost the ability to read a book from start to finish a few months ago.


I’m definitely starting to feel extremely excited. I can almost see the little baby living in it’s new room. I don’t know if it’s a little weird thinking that, but I can’t help it I guess. I keep seeing a little girl, but who knows who’s occupying my uterus right now.


I think next week, I will feel mentally prepared to pop. Perhaps not this week … I still have a kiddy birthday party with the Big Girl on Saturday, we’re off to see Mr P23’s granny this weekend and I think I’d like a last weekend, with just the four of us.



Half assed headspace July 5, 2012


Life in half-assed blog land continues to chug along. Oh, I could write about a myriad of things right now.


About how much I’m looking forward to finishing up at work.

About school holidays, and how fab they are – the not needing to be anywhere. Bring it.

About how good pyjama days are.

About Mr P23’s birthday this weekend – 34 … when we met he was 20! That freaks me right out.

About how I’m going to rock the shit out of being 40.

About how I fantasise about travelling overseas almost every single day. Seriously. With Mr P23 and the smalls in tow.

About how I often plan fake trips to Vietnam and New York and Spain using TripAdvisor and The Thorn Tree forums.

About things which bug me about Catholicism.

About things which make me laugh.

About how ‘Project Runway’ is the best reality show ever made.

About how wrong shows like ‘Pregnant in Heels’ are. Sheesh. Vomit material.

About how I struggle to care about the Australian political scene at the moment.

About how much I love to write a list.

About how I have about 14 different lists happening at any one time. An iphone one. A post it note one. A diary one. Etc.

About my irrational dislike of Grant Denyer. I’m sorry, Grant.


I often think about you, Dear Blog, but then realise my laptop is off and the moment when I could have written something has passed. So I continue to store little half-blog-posts in my head.


At the moment, all those thoughts above are clouded by ‘baby’, ‘baby’ and ‘baby’. And BABY! It’s hard not to think about anything but this baby that’s going to catapult itself into our lives in the next month or so.


I liken it to waiting for a long lost relative to arrive from Europe. One you’ve never met. One that is noisy, demanding and small. A bit wrinkly. Is prone to bum rash (well, my kids are anyway). One that you know you’ll love. More and more so, over time. And who, once they arrive, will be a bit of a rude guest quite frankly, being loud at all hours in the night. One who has bought a one-way ticket and has no intention of leaving.


So you get their room ready. You get all their clothes ready. You think about all the hand-me-downs you need to sift through which they might need. You wash them. You fold them. You look at them a lot. You may even smell them (I do like a good sniff of clean laundry). And you feel these hand-me-downs every now and then, while everyone else sleeps. Wondering what they’ll look like on.


And then you just wait. And wait. And wait.


I’m not feeling all that nervous about this guest arriving. Just sometimes.


I’m hoping the drugs are kind to me this time around, like they were the first two times. I looooooove druuuuuuuugs.

I’m hoping the ice machine at Westmead Private is working when I’m in labour. If not? Mr P23 might have to buy one of those petrol station party bags to help me get through it.

I’m hoping the kids cope well with having a new sibling.

I’m hoping Little Guy doesn’t try and bite said sibling.

I’m hoping so very much the bambino is healthy. I worry about that all the time.

I’m hoping my boobs work properly again. They’ve served me and my babies well, these mammary glands of mine. Come on girls, you can do it again.

I’m hoping I don’t have to entertain 3000 members of Z’s family who visit IN HOSPITAL and again WHEN YOU COME HOME and who then STAY FOR AGES with ALL OF THEIR KIDS IN TOW. Who am I kidding? I know I’ll have to do this part. I see visits to the Primo Deli in my post-baby future, for supplies of mezza and pickles.

I’m hoping Mr P23 works slightly better hours when baby arrives … at least until I have some semblance of a routine going. It’s so fantastic when he’s home. I’d have 12 kids if he never had to work! I’d be like the Duggars.

I’m hoping my need to nest ALL THE TIME sorts itself out pronto.

I’m hoping having a little bambino in Spring that can hold it’s head up by itself is as lovely as I imagine it is.


Welcome to a half assed headspace. It’s busy in here. You might need a Bex and a lie down, I tell you. Or at the very least, a tray of ice cubes.



Ways not to greet people – Lesson 1 June 11, 2012

Filed under: Mememe,Pregnancy,What goes on in my head — mrsp23 @ 12:45 pm


I’ve been meaning to post this for a while.


You see, I have a stack of interesting blog posts all neatly filed into my head. The trouble is, they never seem to get typed up and published. Because I am currently in the thick of Dexter Season 5 for a start (a very good season, I might add). And if I’m not watching that, I’m reading the paper. Teasing Mr P23 about something. Or shushing the kids to go to sleep.


Now that I’m clearly quite pregnant, I have noticed that when people greet me, they fall into two camps. Firstly, there are the people whom I love and want to take home to hang out with me all the freaking time. The people who say: you look great! aren’t you stylish?* Oh, you’re all-baby!


I can’t tell you how much I love these people, because they do great things for my self esteem. Which, when you’re getting whale-like, isn’t doing oh-so-swimmingly.


As beautiful as growing a baby is, there is an element of me not particularly enjoying seeing my arse balloon at the same time… I am not one of those people who will say in 5 years time how much they love their stretch marks and cottage cheese thighs because they ‘tell a story’. Each to their own, but I’d rather my thighs be storyless thanks.


I’m not sure if these self-esteem boosting people are full of lies, or if it’s basically because they’ve seen me when I’m wearing make up. Probably the latter. There are a couple of women at work who have been so lovely about how I’m looking, that it really does make me feel good. Because I’m vain like that.


And then there are the others. The ones who greet me with: wow, don’t you look tired?! oh, are you sure you’re OK? are you feeling rundown today? It really puts me on edge. Particularly when I’m feeling relatively OK that day. Or because I have put some make up on or am just wearing jeans and joggers, FFS!


A few of Little Guy’s daycare teachers fall into this camp – one in particular who ALWAYS comments on my supposed fatigue. Even on days where there is effort made, people! And where Revlon’s Photo Ready illuminator has been slapped on to the max. I’m not sure what she’s playing at, but one day I might just crack. I am a bit of a livewire this pregnancy, I can feel it in ‘me waters Kath.


The other person who falls into this camp of  ‘others’ is this well-meaning mum at the Big Girl’s school. Sure, I am usually completely and utterly shattered on my days off work (it’s the being-on-my-feet-all-day part that makes me so). But does she need to say anything? Do I need to hear it from her? Does she need to comment on my appearance as a way of greeting me?


Lady, I don’t want to know how shitty I look. Can we just talk about the weather or something? Please?  Give me small talk any day.


I wish the others would stop. Especially when it’s the first thing they say to you.


Does anyone else get this? What types of greetings shit you beyond measure, when you see someone? ‘Wow, you look SO TIRED!’ would have to be mine.


* In my Valleygirl, Vinnies-purchased mini dress that I’ve made into a top. Classy!



Swings and roundabouts… May 30, 2012

Filed under: Pregnancy,What goes on in my head,Work — mrsp23 @ 12:45 pm

Having done this pregnancy caper 3 times now, there seems to be a total third trimester trend with me.


I start to disengage from the world, at this point. Particularly with regards to work. Today I went into the office and I tell you, my care factor? Was at an all time low.


It’s been hectic, oh so hectic this last month, work-wise. Lots of late nights. A few annoying projects that never seem to go away. A bit of feeling sorry for myself with this workload. And a whole lota crazy deadlines. I think they haven’t helped – at all. And it’s all starting to catch up with me. I feel a bit tired and over it. Over the client’s issues. Over their deadlines. Over trying to support more junior members. Over trying to get across things on my day off.


I am a good employee. And I say that not because I have tickets on myself. But more because I care about the work I do, the quality of it, and the reputation of our organisation. But I’m a bit tired of all that. I don’t feel like caring anymore. Today, I just really wanted to go home, revel in the silence of the kids being in school and daycare, and start to get the baby’s room ready. Really – that’s it.
At the moment, it’s a bit shambolic in the baby’s room. It’s the dumping ground for anything and everything that has no home. And I am itching to do something about it.  Work just feels like this obstacle just getting in the way.


But with 2 months of work today, I’ve got to channel Tim Gunn’s advice on Project Runway and ‘make it work’. Because 2 months is a loooong time, baby. So instead of dwelling on all of these feelings, I’ve decided I’m going to put them to one side, as much as I can. And focus on all the good things about being at work for a wee while longer (apart from the getting paid part):


–  Drinking hot cups of tea, whenever I want.

– Enjoying a plethora of decent coffee made by Ana.

– Shopping with no entourage in tow. Yes, even in Coles.

– All that car time, sans kids. So I can listen to whateverthehellIwant!

– Walking solo. Even for 20 minutes. Without having to hold anyone’s hand or worry about them darting across the road.

– Adult conversation about random shit. Like how my mother loves to buy 10 kilos of onions and leave 4 kilos on my doorstep on the way to work.

– Japanese for lunch. This, my friends, makes me very happy. Closely followed by a Pad See Ew from The Best Thai. Just saying.


Have I missed anything?


Slow cooker versus Pressure cooker May 25, 2012

Filed under: Food — mrsp23 @ 12:59 am

Hello, Doris Day!

I love cooking. I’m not amazing at it, but I do like feeding people. I like the chopping, the stirring, the smell, and the (eventual) eating. Probably because I just love food. I am a wannabe foodie. I like large portions too.


Lately, I’ve taken to borrowing a range of zuzzy cook books from my local libe, and just flicking through them at the end of the day. I find it theraputic. And it makes me really happy to know what Matt Moran cooks when he’s at home. Or what Manu Fidel considers his signature dish. It’s my porn.


I have a couple of books where I’ve collected recipes for about the last 5 years. They’re fairly choc-a-block. Flicking through, you can really get a vibe for what type of cooking, and food, appeals to me. Anything with cous cous, polenta, chorizo and red lentils is basically a winner in my book. I love a goulash. And I love dishes with stacks of vegetables.  Oh, and cakes with apples in them. *Love*.


I know there’s a lot of slow cooker love out there. When Little Guy was born 2 years ago, I went out and bought a huge mofo slow cooker, thinking that it would be this which saved me. How wrong I was.


I’ve probably used it about 6 times. And maybe it’s just me, or my cooking, but why does everything kinda taste the same in it? Just like … mushed food?


The other big downer with the slow cooker, I think, is that even though I thought it would be my big time saver, I find that it’s a bit of a time suck at the worst possible time of day with kids – mornings. When I’m nag, nag, nagging for the Big Girl to brush her teeth and put her stocking on in less than 15 minutes (I swear, it takes that long). And I’m slapping on the BB Cream in case I engage in some mama chat on the school run. And I’m trying to convince the Little Guy to wee on the potty. It’s mad round these parts. And that’s just with 2 kids.


But see, that’s when that slow cooker should be put on (at least, mine needs to be … it takes the ‘slow’ part rather literally). In the mad-morning time. It just doesn’t work for me.


When I received a pressure cooker from my mother-in-law recently (for mother’s day), I had to pause and wonder if this was a good thing. I was a little like ‘Oh noooo! Not another cooking contraption! Not something else I don’t have room for in the poo-brown kitchen!’ Obvs I said none of these things, but yep, I was sceptical.


But truthfully? It kills the slow cooker. It is the antithesis of the slow cooker. The slow cooker, which is all like ‘Oh I’ll get there eventually … at some point today, lady, you will have a meal. Just give me a moment…’


The slow cooker shits me. GET TO THE POINT, SLOW COOKER!


And that’s where pressure cooker steps in. Pressure cooker is all like ‘Get OUTTA my way peeps, I’m gonna ROCK this dinner business. I’m gonna BLOW your mind with my speed. I’m gonna GET to the freaking point!’


And it does. Seriously, in like 20 minutes, you open it up, and you marvel at how it just did that.


If they were people, I’d be tweeting the pressure cooker right now, and bantering. Because I like that in a person. The do-ers. The get-to-the-point-ers. The non-faffers. The pressure cooker is all over non-faffing like a rash.


The slow cooker? Let’s just say I’d be unfollowing the slow cooker.




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