Cupcakes in the Oven...

**This is a sponsored post for Wholeberry Folk. I was provided with a sample of their Banana Split cupcake packet mix**

I've never been one for talent in the kitchen. The Man has forbidden me from ever attempting lasagne again, since every attempt has been regarded as a potential mass poisoning.

It's not my fault. I blame the oven. In every house we have ever lived in.

However, since becoming a full time SAHM, I have found myself in the kitchen more often. Through choice. But I have to confess that a majority of the goods coming from the kitchen are of the baked goodie variety.

Yes, I do make proper meals - but to be honest sometimes I wish I could serve chocolate cake for dinner, because that is a crap load more satisfying to make.

Recently I was approached to try a new brand of packet mix cupcake. Packet mixes are fantastic for when Miss 4 is desperate to help me make something, but I'm short on time and 20 minutes to measure out 1 cup of flour just isn't going to happen.

The Wholeberry Folk is proudly Australian made and owned, are preservative and additive free, and use spelt flour. Can you say 'terrifying mother's groups, judge no more my baked goodies!!'

These products are nut free, but do contain gluten (spelt, which is easier to digest and more soluble than traditional wheat gluten) and are made on a production line that produces products that contain milk products, gluten and soy.

I am always in a panic when I have to send food to preschool to share. I'm paranoid about children with allergies or intolerances and I don't want to be responsible for someone going home with explosive diarrhoea (or, god forbid, being hospitalised from an allergic reaction).

The butter in the recipe can be substituted for coconut oil, and milk for a dairy alternative so it's appropriate for vegans, too! My cousin would be thrilled - this is as close to vegan as I will probably ever be.

Miss 4 was ecstatic to be trying out the Wholeberry Folk Banana Split cupcakes, and they were straight forward to make. I loved it because it meant she could be fairly independent in putting the mix together, and she LOVES independence these days.

They were delicious...well, I'm assuming they were - I sure as hell didn't get any!!

If you want to be able to make yummy food that you won't gt a chance to eat, you can find the Wholeberry Folk range at Woolworths, retailing for $6.49.

Happy baking!!



  

Happy Birthday...

Today, you've been in the world for an entire year.

How is that even possible? It hasn't been a year. It's only been the blink of an eye.

The calendar would disagree. As do you in all your walking, babbling, toothy glory.

I want to freeze time so you'll stay my little baby - there's a part of me that's not ready to let go of all the baby things, and another part of me that knows watching you grow up with your sister will be hilarious, worrying and, at times, exasperating.

Worth every second.

Happy first birthday, my little Hermione Quinn.

Never be anyone other than you.

It's Red Nose Day!

Most of the time a red nose indicates doom in our household.

DOOM I tell you!

It could be the first sign of Man-Flu or, even more terrifying, Toddler-Flu. Able to strike fear into the heart of mother's everywhere!

And, on a separate note, red noses usually mean that a clown is in the room. And this is very bad because I have a fear of clowns. An all consuming, soul destroying fear.

FEAR!

But once a year, a red nose is something I love to see.

On a bear at least...

Every year I buy a little fairy bear, I have done since before Elena was born - SIDS and Kids has always been one charity that I've been happy to donate to. I know in my heart why it's always been important, and that's where it will stay. It's not my story to tell.

This year I was lucky enough to be sent some Red Nose Baby Wipes* that raise funds for Red Nose Day. Hermione has proven to be quite sensitive to some additives in baby wipes - and I had found only one brand that didn't make her break out in a rash and blow up like a balloon.

Until now!

Red Nose Baby Wipes are the only Aussie made and owned baby wipes on the market, and 5% of all sales go to SIDS and Kids. And they are one of 2 brands that I can use on Hermione.

The wipes are a fantastic size, and the texture is wonderful. Soft and soothing, wet enough to get the job done but your baby is left feeling dry and clean.

Winning!

While our little family is extremely blessed and has never had to access the services of SIDS and Kids, I can't imagine how hard it would be for those families, who have experienced the loss of a child, if SIDS and Kids weren't here to offer the support they do.

"SIDS and Kids is dedicated to saving the lives of babies and children during pregnancy, birth, infancy and childhood and supporting bereaved families. We deliver on our vision through world class research; evidence based education and bereavement support; and advocacy."

If you give to only one charity a year, make SIDS and Kids your choice.




For more information on Red Nose Day and SIDS and Kids visit www.sidsandkids.org
For more information on the Red Nose Baby Wipes visit www.aussiewipes.com.au

*Disclaimer: I was provided one pack of large Red Nose Baby Wipes to trial.*

2013...

Well 2012, you were a good year. Hell, you were amazing! In the grand scheme of things, there are few years that can match you. 2008, 2009 and 2012 will always be hard to beat. 2013 will have to work hard to top you - she's already being weighed down by some large facts...

1. There will be no new babies born this year (to us! The rest of the world is free to procreate)
2. The Man has put his foot down and said no more babies for us.
3. The Man said no more babies!
4. There is a part of me that agrees with him...
5. There is a part of me that doesn't...
6. The Man is booking in for a vasectomy, so there's no going back.

I suppose it's the finality of it all - there will seriously, never, ever be another child born to us, and a part of my heart is heavy for that. I'm sure every mother in the world has a small part of them that's never sure if they are 100% done with birthing babies - especially when you consider how amazing, cute, squishy and yummy smelling they are.

I'll make my peace with it, I'm sure. Probably around the time JellyBean begins eating like her sister and the weekly shop increases 1000%.

It brings the end of baby clothes and the painful experience of having to give them away/sell them, along with furniture. When that time comes I'll probably have to be sedated while The Man deals with it.

However, as much as 2013 brings the end to some phases of our lives, it does herald the beginning of others. Miss 3 will be Miss 4 in exactly 17 days time and will begin pre-school this year. She will wear a uniform, learn so many things and come home smarter than me on day 1. She will become even more independent and I will have to learn to let go. But not that much.

JellyBean will grow like a weed and I will find a corner of my bedroom to curl into the foetal position and rock back and forth each night, crippled by the fact that my girls are growing every second of every day.

It will bring further renovations and improvements to the house, more gardening and swearing at the palm-trees-from-hell in our yard that insist on spreading their dead fronds as far as the eye can see. It will see me plotting their demise in the form of a tree lopping service and a wood chipper!

I will turn...sob...29. But so will The Man.

It may see my frame shrink further - or perhaps increase - you never can tell. I'll just hope for the best and try not to spend too much time down the chocolate aisle in Coles.

It will be my first solid year as a SAHM and I plan to delve into the world of domestic goddess-ness and the culinary arts. Well, culinary arts is probably a bit ambitious - I'd settle for learning not to burn water.

I may find the time to read a book. And maybe get to see a movie at the cinema. I'll continue to forget how bitter the skins are on fresh plums and eat one.

We will watch rain storms roll in, cuddle our babies when they shy away from the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder and let them sleep between us to feel safe. We will jump on trampolines, swim in pools, play at parks, rock babies to sleep, run baths, put little bodies in jim-jams, take a million and one photo's, laugh, cry, whinge, moan and complain about something-or-other and fall asleep at night, grateful to be able to do it every day.

2013 may not be the year of births in our home, but it certainly will be the year of awesome.

Long may it reign...

A New Beginning...

Well, here I am. Typing on my laptop from home with official sanction from my OB not to return to work.

To say a weight has been lifted off my shoulders is an understatement.

Any guilt I might have felt by going on leave so suddenly, is overshadowed by feelings of release. It's like being covered by a cloud and driving into the sunlight. It's bright, warm and wonderful. The sudden change can be blinding, but once your eyes adjust you wonder why the hell you didn't drive for the break in the clouds sooner!

It's probably a sign when you leave a place you've worked for the past 5 years, and you're not even a little bit sad for not working with those people anymore. Call me bitchy if you like, but there's one person who I won't be sad to never see again.

Her reaction when my pregnancy was announced? "Oh, poor you. Was it an accident?"

If she see's me coming, she crosses the street to avoid speaking to me or if she happens to be stuck in the tea room at the same time, she walks around me like I'm contagious. As far as she's concerned me and my life are the worst case scenario. If she woke up tomorrow as me, she would have a heart attack.

Thing is, I feel sorry for her. She'll never know the heart crushing joy of bringing your baby home for the first time, she'll never know that new baby smell, she'll never know the intense joy of your child saying their first word, taking their first steps.

But she's obviously found what she's looking for in her career and her husband, and that's awesome. A career isn't the be all and end all for me, but I've always known that.

I don't condemn her for her choice to not have children  - I didn't think it was too much to ask from her to offer me the same respect.

However, there is no need to obsess over the past - and that's exactly what all of that is, now. The past.

Now, I'm looking to the future and I'm so excited! I'm looking forward to getting the rest I need for my ribs to heal, I'm looking forward to loads of quality time with Miss 3 and I'm looking forward to welcoming the newest addition to our family in 13 weeks time.

And on the subject of the newest addition to our family - the OB whipped out her ultrasound machine and has finally given us the answer we've been dying to know.

Miss 3 is thrilled to announce that she is the proud sibling of a...

BABY GIRL!!

So it turns out Miss 3 is not psychic...she just chose the wrong 50% of the gender debate to fixate on.

The Man and I have yet to settle on a name, but when we do decide, we're going to keep it to ourselves until our littlest girl is here.

So there you go, the latest update in our lives.

And a bloody awesome life it is.

The JellyBean...

I've not been posting too much about my pregnancy - somehow it still feels 'unreal'.

I felt somewhat silly and embarrassed for having been so excited last time, only for it to not work out the way we planned. But then we can't always predict these things.

Let's just say I thought I jinxed myself last time - that the Universe was punishing me for being so cocky and proud, it had to take me down a peg. Well, it was a harsh lesson and one I was determined not to repeat.

So here I am, trying to be cool, nonchalant and detached.

Except last Monday I got to see this:

Behold! The JellyBean...

Apart from being chastised by the ultrasound tech for having such a difficult surname, and that it meant I couldn't have my entire first name on the picture as a result (it was missing the 'y' - I'm not loosing any sleep, honey), it was a fairly standard appointment.

I was so happy I nearly screamed stoked to see a flicker in the JellyBean.

I was disappointed to find out that I'm not as far along as I thought, going by LMP dates. But then again, given things have been so erratic, I'm happy to be pregnant at all!

I was disappointed that The Man couldn't be there, but happy my Mum and Miss 3 were, and we got to go out for breakfast afterwards. I had Eggs Benedict and almost fainted from the excitement.

I am embarrassed by the Instagram pic of my 'belly' that I posted the same morning. Oh the shame! I thought I was 10 weeks (or there about) and to find out that I have a 'jelly belly' at only 6 weeks is mortifying. My stomach muscles have obviously gone on annual leave thinking their 'tight' job was done for a while. Bastards.

The JellyBean is nestled in a challenging spot, and so pictures weren't as easy to get as I'd hoped. Very different from Miss 3 who was all show for every ultrasound.

I swear she knew we were looking.

Miss 3 in her first picture - we dubbed her 'Peanut'...

And so, tomorrow morning we have our first appointment with the OB. I am so happy to have been able to book Dr Mitchell - she's the bomb, not to mention 1 of only 3 private OBs in Darwin.

There are some awesome birthing programs in Darwin, including Homebirth through the Midwifery Group Practice, the birthing centre where you can go home after 4 hours, and the public hospital also have some darling midwives and fab birthing suites.

But after Miss 3, I'm going private again and I wouldn't have it any other way. I felt this way after visiting a friend when she gave birth at the public hospital (before I was even pregnant with Miss 3). Apart from finding some else's umbilical cord clip with cord still in it, under her bed - her freaking bed nearly tipped over, which would have catapulted her newborn daughter into a wall!

Now, I'm the first to say that this is NOT the norm, and when we told the midwife on duty she was horrified and had it dealt with ASAP - but for me, that one experience was enough to know I wouldn't be going there to give birth.

I had visions of infection and death. I was already pretty highstrung with the idea of birthing with no drugs in our own home - fear of death was enough to push me over the edge!

Happily everything turned out  perfect - I got an epidural  and  a healthy baby.

So here's to everything being perfect again, and to me not pissing off The Universe with my pregnancy babble.

It's All Good...

It's the end of the day. The sun is falling lower and lower in the sky, which turns orange and pink. It's been a hot day and a breeze gently pushes me forward.

It carries with it the smell of freshly cut grass, warm air and the low moan of a lawn mower a few streets away.

The smell, the warmth and the sound. That's how I know everything is all good.

It reminds me of hanging out with friends after school. It reminds me of lazy summer weekends when I was younger. It reminds me of a simpler time in my life, when bills and money and work were irrelevant. They were a million miles away in the future, and my biggest worry at that moment was that we wouldn't make it to the beach before dark.

I like to think that Big Nanna (she was tall), Little Nanna (she was shorter than Big Nanna) and Uncle Bob (my Great Uncle and Little Nanna's brother) are sitting together, hanging out and can see when I need a good breeze to come past. 

Because it always does.

And it makes my soul happy.

PND Awareness Week 13-17 November 2011

Never be afraid to Speak Up.

I did.

And there are so many other voices, just like mine.

It doesn't make you a 'bad parent' or a 'bad person'.

It makes you human - none of us are perfect.

The dark can be so endless.

Add your voice; add another light.

Together, we'll find the sun.



 

www.justspeakup.com.au

www.beyondblue.org.au

Joy to the World...

No - our claim hasn't been finalised. That won't happen until the next ice age, and I'm sure I'll make my peace with that. Probably the day before I die.

Anyway, considering my 'woe is me' post yesterday, I'm feeling good today (I feel good - nah nah nah nah nah nah nah - I knew that I would, now - nah nah nah nah nah nah nah - I feeeeeeeeeel good...)

Maybe it's because I slept well, maybe it's because I'm having a good hair day...and maybe it's because I'm hopping on a flight to Alice Springs today and I'm escaping the cesspool of destruction created by my family while I was away last week.

Whatever the reason, for the first time this morning the NT News didn't look like reading it would waste 5 minutes of precious life. In fact - the front cover made my heart skip a beat and I almost screamed.

www.ntnews.com.au

It's not often the NT News deems a story worthy to replace the required Crocodile on the front page.

I feel the Myer announcement could have taken a full page, but obviously someone being attacked with an iced coffee is right up there, too.

It reaffirms my committment to only drinking Farmer's Union.

So Myer, on behalf of all the people in Darwin who have moved here from other capital cities, got off the plane and thought 'where the hell am I?' or, in my case 'What do you mean they don't have department stores!!?' I would like to say THANK YOU.

You will drag this city kicking and screaming into the new millennium - and I look forward to it.

Pulling it together...

Right.

So, first of all, apologies for yesterday's 'freak out'.  I have to say, it did help to get it all out, so thanks for tolerating my unhinged moment.

Today is a vast improvement, and to tell you why I would like to present:

TOP 10 WAYS TO GET MY SHIT TOGETHER AFTER A CRAP-TACULAR DAY

1. Have a friend read my post and send a text message that get's me through the rest of the day in one piece. T, I love you.
2. Call my Mum and cry about emotionally scarring my husband via email and then proceed to sob.
3. Go home after work and find my husband not only hasn't left me and taken our child away, but is quite sympathetic to the situation and is even cleaning up the frat party mess of the weekend in an attempt to preserve my limited sanity.
4. Hugs. Lots of hugs.
5. Have comfort food for dinner in the shape of pasta. And then have more pasta. With carbonara sauce. Screw the calories.
6. Hog the television and not care for a single second that the entire family is being made to watch the Lifestyle/ Home channels.
7. Get to work the next day, alive, and have the breakfast of champions:
   
   

   

   Brekky of Champions - anyone who says chocolate doesn't make everything better is a liar!!

8. Decide to clean out the remaining items from my diesel-wrecked purse (don't ask) and discover a Dymocks voucher from Xmas.
9. Go online, ignore work, and spend said Dymocks voucher on books - specifically The Hidden Diary of Marie Antoinette and Notorious Royal Marriages - JOY!
10. Continue the spending theme and decide to buy a new Inner-B Mum Agenda in Turquoise and an Inner-B Yearly Family Planner. Being (or pretending to be) organised calms the raging river of mess within.

So there you go - this is exactly what has gotten me through the last 24 hours, and I am now about to go out and buy what I need for dinner (another comfort food, happiness meal: schnitzel with mashed potato, carrots and green beans. YUM!), something for lunch and most importantly...

A TRIP TO THE CHEMIST!

I'll see ya'll on the flip side...literally!

Shape Up - Week...

...okay, so it's been a while since I popped in an update about this.

And excuses aside (emotional turmoil, sick kidlet, more turmoil, man-flu sufferer sympathy requirements, Christmas hyperventialition) I have been trying to be good.

Seriously!

It's amazing how feeling emotionally wrought can help your appetite.

Now, I don't have any measurement's to share - so I'm sorry about that. But I will have new measurements to share next week (and if there is a higher power, now would be the time to strike my hips and thighs with lightning!!)

But I do have a development to share with you all today.

And no, I'm not getting lipo (although if a cosmetic surgeon is trolling blogs looking for someone to do an extreme makeover on...) but...

I'VE STARTED GOING TO THE GYM!

Yep, those words even stun me. Ever since I was 39 weeks pregnant my daily exercise regime consisted of walking up and down the front steps of our house if I had to do washing. Otherwise it was a matter of heaving myself off the couch to visit the loo, the fridge, the pantry, back to the loo and then the couch for a bit longer.

So when a friend of mine said her work provides a gym in her building for the employees (I gotta get a Government job, Government funded is just shite in comparison) and that she would buzz me into the fortress of Governmental workers to attend with her - FOR FREE - I did a jig.

Now, I work for a health organisation. And I'll admit I am one of the biggest girls here. But that's because I'm not a coffee swilling, cigarette eating, diet pill chugging lunatic. Okay, well I'm a coffee swilling lunatic, but that's as hard core as I get.

My team leader is a wonderful role model - she goes to the gym 3-5 times a week and eats well but still goes out and has fun and eats yummy food when she's out to dinner. She's happy! And I'll admit, her example is inspiring for many reasons and it is my mission to drop a bit of weight but overall start to feel good about myself again.

To have that spring in my step...



Pic from here

 Because currently I look like this when I drag myself to my desk in the morning...



Pic from here

 But the trick is to remember that my display of gym-based total un-coordinated dorkishness...



Pic from here

 Will lead me to being more like this...

Pic from here

Oh yeah, I'm gonna have buns of steel that I can use to open jar lids, baby!

The Legend of the Great Dummy Extraction (and applicable sunburn)

Friday, 10 September 2010

It has begun. We have travelled to the shopping centre to gather supplies for tonight's fearful task. The Guru almost bailed on me in the car on the way. Saying he wasn't expecting the task to be started tonight. I huffed and puffed about being abandoned and left to do it on my own. He backpeddled and said I misunderstood. Whatever.

With the items in hand we head home. After we treat ourselves to some food court dinner. No point in trying to cook and be a terrible mother all in one night. Besides, the tenision and fear in anticipation of what the evening might bring is making my hands shake so badly my burger is being showered all over my lap. Shaking hands and trying to cook something at home will only end in tears. Mine.

So we got home in one piece...bath time is done as normal and everyone is enjoying themselves. During this time the dummies are collected. Including the secret stash we discovered under her mattress...just out of eye shot but within sneaky toddler reach.

We discuss further how the baby faeries need the dummies and that they will leave something special to say thank you. We put the bag on the table and say bye bye to the dummies. No tears, begging or anything yet. It's going well.

Bed time. We read eighty two million books. The Toddler can sense our fear. She's milking it. We're not stopping it. We continue reading until finally she's dozed off to the sound of her Daddy's voice and my hand gently stroking her hair.

We pick her up and place her in bed. Kiss her goodnight, make sure she's comfortable and head out. There's nothing....just silence.

Oh my god. It that it!? Seriously... What was I afraid of!? That was so EASY!

And then the silence is shattered by the call over the monitor..."Mummeeeeeeee....sob.....Dummmmeeeeeee" followed by all sorts of howling and wailing and calling. I re-enter the room many, many times, pick her up, rock her, try to soothe her.

Total. Mothering. Fail.

After 2 hours and a final desperate call to my Mum asking for moral support and some words of wisdom for us, a plan is made. The Guru runs to the bag on the table and retireves a dummy. I think he could have outrun the flash. But screaming children will do that to you.

We re-enter the doomsday cave Toddler's bedroom, and insert dummy into awaiting toddler mouth. With some Mummy cuddles the Toddler is asleep in seconds.

But once she is asleep and has spat out the dummy, we take it back.

10pm - All is well in our household. And Panadol is making a fortune out of the 2 of us.

Upon the silence I can only assume our neighbours decide against calling child services. They never showed up despite my paranoia. Cheers.

Saturday, 11 September 2010

The day starts bright with no dummies in sight. the Toddler is THRILLED with all the goodies left by the Faeries as a thank you. The Faeries may have gone overboard on the presents and the faerie dust the previous night...but the big girl faerie didn't care, it was just the silly big boy faerie who cried about possible glittery dust going everywhere. And getting on everything. And making boy clothes appear very cabaret-ish. Pffffft - boys.

We anticipate the challenge of a day time nap without a dummy. But have last night's plan ready for action if hysteria comes a'calling.

Nap time arrives...well, sneaks up on us. Happy toddler has gone and Demon toddler has arrived. With dark circles under her eyes and a wild look about her.

This could be bad on so many levels.

The bedroom is entered and we sit in her armchair and read stories. No dummies have been mentioned. By any of us.

It comes time for the sleeping part of the day. A slight whimper erupts from the Toddler's lips and I see the Guru flinch to stop himself from diving for the dummy he has stashed in his pocket...just in case...

Whimpering dies down and Mummy cuddles are requested and given. Steady breathing and snuffling sounds indicate the Toddler has dozed off. She is gently placed in her cot and we depart. Dummy still in the Guru's pocket.

I stand outside her door....waiting for the eventual cries over the monitor.

Silence....and more silence....and it continues. I assume now our neighbours have taken child services off their speed dial list. Again, thanks for that.

Fast Forward to Bed Time...

There is much discussion with the Toddler about how the faeries came and took her dummies. And the Baby Faeries now have them and love them. This discussion is started and ended at the Toddlers insistence.

We head to bed...stories are read...tickles given and more Mummy cuddles are administered. But we go to our cot awake and aware. And we say goodnight to Mummy and Daddy and roll over and close our eyes.

The Guru and I depart....we listen....we hear small chattering over the monitor..."baby faeries have dummies...close eyes...(yawn)...nye nye faeries...faerie cuddles..." and from there we had contented sleeping sounds.

Sunday 12 September 2010

Day 2 of dummy freedom. We head to the water park for a play date with friends, both big and small.

It's wonderful, watery, cool, breezy, fun day and we close it off by another visit to the shopping centre (because I have more money to spend...the Guru begs to differ but...pfffft, boys).

The Toddler has an afternoon nap and we chill out for a bit. All 3 of us head outside after naps and a late lunch/snack are complete and we clean the pool and do some tree hacking and laundry.

The afternoon as also uncovered a small side effect of the morning's watery activities. For the Guru and I at least.

While the Toddler was decked out in her sun smart everything and almost no patch of her skin was visible to sunlight and the patches that were visible were smothered in enough sunscreen to repair the hole in the Ozone layer, the Guru and I just....well....weren't. We paddled and frolicked and did everything...but without the slightest hint of sunscreen or even a hat.

Welcome to the world of Bitchin' Sunburn. We hope you enjoy your next week slthered in Aloe Vera After Sun Gel and crap sleep due to no comfortable sleeping positions being available.

You would think we'd learn. That we would remember the 2 days of our honeymoon spent in our hotel suite slathered in this green gel of death. That in sunscreening the Toddler we'd just pop some on ourselves.

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

Idiots.

And I will continue to curse the hole in the Ozone layer as I spray my aerosol's around, drive my car, use disposable nappies and put recyclable materials in the rubbish bin...right next to the bigger, less smelly recycling bin.

Maybe one day I'll learn...when they make sun smart swim wear for adults that doesn't make me look like I'm wearing a giant condom. That's unflattering. And when I say unflattering, I mean BESIDES the fact that I look like I'm wearing a condom. Because a condom is fine...but when it makes you look like your arse is actually 2 bull dogs in a burlap sack fighting eachother for space, well, that's just a whole new level of unflattering.

But I digress...

After everything it turns out the dummy wasn't the Mount Everest of Weaning I had thought it would be. And without being smug, I am eternally grateful that we appear to have a very accepting daughter who was ready to say goodbye to her dummies. The result would have been very different if we'd approached this at a bad time or if she wasn't ready. And we know that.

But to the Universe...and the baby faeires who made all of this possible...I thank you. It could have been truly terrible, but we remain with our family and our sanity intact.

Now if only I could find a comfy patch of un-seared skin to sleep on...

The Great Dummy Extraction

So tonight is the beginning of no dummies. That's right, NO dummies. The Toddler has them for sleeping and as a general comfort item...but I think it's time for them to finish up.

I certainly won't be winning any 'Best Mummy' awards tonight, and the Toddler may or may not smother me with my pillow during the night in a terrible act of revenge.

But the Guru and I have discussed it and we think it's best to get it out of the way now.

I realise that yesterday I was mourning the loss of my baby...but for some reason I don't associate dummies with the Toddler being a baby or not. The dummy is just a dummy and it started out as a way for me to get some peace as the Toddler was a comfort sucker. And my boobs just weren't up to the task. Now I look at them and all I can see it a giant plastic thing that blocks her beautiful face from the world. And makes her sound like Maggie Simpson.

Thanks Google and BuddyTV.com

So they're going. Tonight. No if's and's or but's.

I'm going to do a dummy hunt with the Toddler and collect all her dummies and put them in a pretty bag. I've been explaining to her for the last couple of weeks that the new babies in the world would like to have dummies of their own, and they would be very grateful if she would donate hers. So we will place them in the bag for the babies of the world.

And during the night, the faeries will come and collect the dummies to give out to the babies, and they will leave her a special present to say thank you and to remind her that she is a very generous and loving person to give up something to important to her for the new babies.

Yes, it may sound silly and over the top - but I want it to be as positive as possible for her. I know there will be tears and requests glaore and a string of sleepless nights. But it's worth it in the long term.

So dummies - gather your things and make sure your passports are valid - because you're going on a long trip and won't be coming back.

Naughty and Nice

So I had some time off last week to get a bit more organised with the relocating etc. And to try and get some quality time with my baby girl to get a better understanding where all this upset, tantrum-ish behaviour is coming from.

I mean, I know it's because there's been a huge upheaval in her life. And considering she's only 19 months and this is house #3 for her (although, we moved from house 1 to house 2 when she was 4 months old!) the change in scenery and new rules around stairs and whatnot are obviously causing some angst.

So much so that when I dropped her at daycare this morning she had a meltdown like it was the first time I had ever left her there.

It broke my heart, and it does every time I hear her cry, and no matter how many times I said I loved her and I would be back for her in the afternoon, it made no difference to how she or I were feeling. Just craptacular.

Rewind to last Thursday and I wasn't winning any 'parent of the year' awards then, either. I used the naughty spot for the first time. Twice. In 20 minutes. And the subsequent howling resembled the sound I think someone would make if their left leg as being torn off by a mulcher. But I'm just not prepared to let her bite.

They have been the longest 1 minute intervals of my life. And I had to forcibly stop myself from turning back and picking her up off the naughty spot and cuddling her and telling her I was sorry for trying to teach her right from wrong and from now on she could do whatever she likes.

But then 2 images entered my head....an image of being a biter (like her charming little friend whom she picked it up from. And he's a product of 'gentle parenting'. I believe the term his parents are looking for is 'Can't be arsed' or 'Letting him do whatever and hoping the rest of the world does the teaching for me'. I'm sorry, but it really shits me when parents use the term 'gentle parenting' and unlike the actual application of it, make it a free-for-all and their kids have no boundaries, never learn there are consequences for actions and the parents then have the nerve to get cranky with others for trying to defend their children from the attack of their out of control banshees! A good example is a post from Bad Mummy on kids in the playground...and I think it showcases parents who don't care and have never bothered to teach their children the right thing...but I digress - sorry!!) and an image of a chainsaw weilding maniac. It was then I realised that unless I wanted to guide her along the path to having unrealistic expectations of life and getting really pissed at the world for it not allowing her to do whatever the hell she wanted when I always did, then I needed to be firm and consistent. I don't want her to be responsible for exacting a terrible revenge on an 'unfair' world when really it was lessons she did or didn't learn when she was younger that caused her to become Marilyn Manson's evil twin.

And so she stayed on the spot. For 1 whole minute. And at the end I went to her and knealt on the floor with her and explained why she was on the naughty spot, asked her to say sorry to me and then ended the event with a kiss and a cuddle and an 'I love you' just to try and make her understand that I do it because I want her to be a kind person - not a fruitcake.

But hello, we are now almost a week later and there hasn't been a sigle bite from her.

So excuse me if I do a little dance and pat myself on the back. I am feeling SUPER about having something non traumatic work so well for my little Peanut. It got the point across and that's all I wanted.

I feel like I have just climbed the highest mountain of my parenting journey so far, and did it with oxygen to spare and my Tibetian guide and his Llama still alive.