Making me laugh

It is a truth universally believed by me that the ability to laugh at yourself is the best ability there is. Life is funny and we are the funniest things in it. I get a right good crack up out of my own stupidity, gaffes or seeming inability to spell SpHinx on a daily basis. It seems science is finally cottoning onto my universal truth - if you can laugh at yourself you're apparently more cheerful and less serious (Really! The things they learn through research! It's amazing! Exclamation!).

Toushka wrote a post last Friday that perfectly showcased why laughing at yourself is the best medicine there is. Caz had a great laugh at her "mummy brain" on Saturday. Mrs Woog does it daily.

I think my mother would be breathing a sigh of relief as she reads this post (hi Mum!). When I was a youngster, I took myself very, very seriously. Very serious. I used to actually cry when my Mum encouraged me to laugh at myself, I think I thought that admitting my failures was the biggest failure of all and heaven forbid you expect me to actually draw attention to them. I was just so embarrassed to admit any kind of weakness or failing.  Like some kind of weird android.

These days I've grown up and my own humiliation is something I think is ridiculously funny. Making myself laugh is one of my favourite past times. I'm glad I grew up. I grew up, had a bloody good laugh and now spend my days encouraging a (crying) Cappers to laugh at herself. She is very, very serious... Very serious.

Can you laugh at yourself?

[Image by *Cinnamon]

This week I'm grateful for... ribbons

Cappers Kazoo finally consented to a hair cut a week or so ago. About half her hair got lopped off and it's changed my life. Time in the morning that I used to spend hair wrangling I now spend making intricate works of art out of clay and wire. Well, not really, but I no longer feel quite so guilty for spending an extra 10 minutes in bed. A couple of brushes, a ponytail and out she goes.


So, this week I'm grateful for...


166. Ribbons - I've come to realise that there isn't a knot in existence that a sweet little ribbon can't deflect. A little girl with a ribbon looks cared for.


167. Two Minute Noodles - they might actually take more like four minutes in the microwave on high, but they're just really yummy, especially if you melt some cheese on them to really amp up the fattyboomsticks pleasure. Maybe it's 'two minutes to finish eating them' noodles?


168. Fattyboomsticks - it's just a really great, almost onomatopoeic word.

So, what's making you smile today? Add your Grateful post to the list below (and please, we love you, but it really does matter that your post is one about being grateful, not just a random), add the button (grab the code from my sidebar and paste it into your post) and pretty-please add a link back to me. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine.


[Image found here]

This week I'm grateful for... near misses

It was a week of near misses for me. Some minor (I did that 'leaping through the closing doors of the train thing' on Thursday); some major (hellllooo Cappers, the Trampoline and the Ankle).


Gets you thinking, that does.


So, this week I'm grateful for...


163. Near misses - 'what could have been' is always a moment that makes me question the role of fate in our life. It's a shame I get a bit queasy whenever I see Gwynnie these days as I have a sudden urge to watch Sliding Doors again!


164. Being spoiled - such a lovely birthday week for me. That LOML of mine, he sure knows how to treat a girl. A little pile of Tiffany boxes, pictures he framed himself and a surprise afternoon tea. I love that husbie of mine all the way to Mars and back to Venus. I cannot get enough of him. 


165. Riding the gravy train - can you believe there is another restructure at my work right now? This is number four in nine months. Madness! Luckily I am a very adept corporate passenger these days and I'm just looking out the window, enjoying the changing viewpoints.

So, what's making you smile today? Add your Grateful post to the list below (and please, we love you, but it really does matter that your post is one about being grateful, not just a random), add the button (grab the code from my sidebar and paste it into your post) and pretty-please add a link back to me. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine.




[Image found here]

Dummy parenting

Yeah, so The Badoo still has a "dummer". The only thing dummer than the dummer in this house is the parents for letting their three year old continue the habit. The rule is that it's for bedtime only, but the reality is that the bloody thing is hanging out of her mouth more often than not. She really, really loves it.

She asked for dummers for her birthday. Aside from nail polish and shoes and world peace, that's all she wanted. Who could resist?

Well, probably 99% of the good parents out there, but secretly I can't really see the harm. There's the teeth thing, of course, but she already has an overbite on her that could rival Freddie Mercury's, so I think the dental damage is done. Really, unless you're going to wean your very young baby off the dummy (or, of course, never give it to them in the first place - heelllllo first baby!), it's just a fact of life that you're going to be buying them braces at some point.

Maxi-Taxi never took a dummy. This was mainly because back before I knew what I was getting myself into with this whole parenting gig, I was adamant that no child of mine was going to have a dummy. I'm not exactly sure why, but I just knew dummies were 'bad' and parenting without them was 'good'. By the time I woke up to myself he was six weeks old and not having a bar of it. I spent ridiculous amounts of time popping the dummy in and watching it instantly pop back out - he was like the world's kindest poker machine. For the record, the kid took three months to learn how to breastfeed and then wouldn't ever take a bottle, so maybe he was just annoying in general.

Needless to say, Cappers was plugged before we even left the delivery room. "What're you lookin' at," I recall growling at the disapproving midwife (I later blamed my rudeness on the post-birth drugs, but we all know that was a lie). Cappers, who is of course the self-raising baby, spat the dummy out at about 4 months old and that was the end of that.

And then along came The Badoo. Grumpy. Third Born. Addict.

The only time it really drives me crazy is when she talks with it in.

"Urg wruf moo gun," she says.

"I love you too, don't talk with your dummy in!"

She has this trick where she twists the dummy around and around using her tongue. You'd swear you can hear the faint sounds of carnival music while she does it. Da da dah dah dah dah da da dah dah. Roll up, roll up and see the fantastical, the magical, the amaaaaaaazing three year old Freddie Mercury lookalike!

Cracks me up every time.

Anyway.

I know it's bad, but we're not even close to working our way free of this dummy vice. She likes it, it gives her comfort... where's the harm I say. Should I feel guilty about that?


[Image of the Pacifier Tree - where kids go to hang their dummies when they've finished with them (unfortunately all the way over in Sweden which seems a little far for The Badoo to travel) -  by Camilla Engman - cool blog by the way!]

Kapow!

Check out the Pink Supergirl costume Gran and Pops got for the Badoo's birthday. How Supercool is that!

Inspired by the antics of the Badoo's new alter-ego, all three Tsunamis were soon practicing their best Superhero moves on the trampoline.

Kapow! (Please ignore the singlet tag indicating that the singlet is on back to front and instead check out Maxi-Taxi's 'when is it my turn to act crazy in front of the camera face' in the background there...)

A Superfrog leaping, can you believe? (Ho hum, says Cappers, picking at a loose thread on the tramp cover.)

All three Superheros were soon dead for reasons known only to themselves.

Do you have a trampoline? What sorts on things do your children get up to at playtime? Any fake deaths?

This week I'm grateful for... trying

We have a saying around our house: "Don't say can't, say I'll try". It's a necessary saying because if a child has ever uttered the words "I can't" more than Maxi and Cappers, I'd like to meet them. Every time they say I can't, I bang on with my favourite saying and 9.9 times out of 10, they'll give something a go (the other 0.1 times they moan something about 'not that again, Mumma').

I like to think that I'm a trier myself. I hate to think that I'm a can'ter, that's for sure. So, when I stepped out last Saturday with the intention of walking for the duration of Maxi's OT session (45 mins) and found myself running the route instead, well, I felt like I was walking the talk, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, I was running the talk and that's even better.

So, this week I'm grateful for...

133. Trying - just getting in there and giving something a go. Like we remind our kids 27 times a day.

134. Running - for the first, oh, five minutes I just had the biggest grin on my face. It had been such a long time since I'd run at any kind of pace and the feeling was absolutely joyous.

135. Rest days - after those first deluded minutes, I really had to drag my sorry self around those mean streets. And the next day, sheesh, why on earth were my inner thighs in agony? I must have such a weird run to make that happen. In my head I'm smartly running along as if I should be wearing lycra. In reality, it's a very good thing I'm not.

PS - It's the Badoo's 3rd birthday party so I apologise in advance that I won't be around much to visit you. I'd love it if you'd visit one extra Grateful blogger on my behalf today, just to show we care. I'll post about the Pink Party (yes, she just wanted 'pink' - how's my life?) on Sunday! x

So, what's making you smile today? Add your I'm Grateful For post to the list below (and please, we love you, but it really does matter that your post is a Grateful one and not just a random), add the button (grab the code from my sidebar and paste it into your post) and pretty-please add a link back to me. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine.





[Image by Brittney T via Flickr]

Feted, not jarred

I'm nuts about school fetes. The cake stalls, the white elephant, the dinky games involving hacky sacks and tin cans. The sheer old-school at school fun of it all.

I've been busy getting creative with jars and stuff to make jars for the 'Jarbola'. I didn't even know what a Jarbola was until Cappers carefully explained that it was when you get a jar of pasta sauce and you eat the sauce and then you put stuff in it but you have to clean it first and then you get a ticket on it and the winner of that ticket gets that jar.

Oh, like a bottle raffle. With clean jars. I get that.

The Badoo and I created six jarbolas to take in tomorrow. A jar of soliders; a jar of glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs; a jar of hair thingies (all pink, this is the Badoo in charge after all!); a jar of sherberts (pink); a jar of mini-chuppa chups (mostly the black ones because we don't really like the black ones around here); and a jar of pretty jewellery (pink, pink, all pink). We made little tags to add a bit of school fair festivity.

If I could fill my fantasy Jarbola jar, I would fill it with Benefit Benetint in rose, Eve Lom Cleanser, Creme de la Mer and Moroccon Oil.

What would you put in your fantasy Jarbola jar?
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I'm linking up to Our Creative Spaces this week. I know filling jars with stuff isn't exactly creative,
but I'll take what I can get!

School Run: Half-Marathon

It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm on the tools.

School Pick-up.

Pram wheels whizzing in front, six kids trailing behind; a slow caravan of feet-dragging, backpack-heaving, high-spirited blue. And a Euphonium.

Keep up Slowest Boy in the World, don't make me come back there.

No we can't play in the playground, Flygirl's got to get to art class.

Hold onto the pram, Cappers, we're crossing in a minute. Yes, you do need to hold onto the pram. No, you're not old enough to cross by yourself even if I watch you very carefully and you look right and left and left again. And, by the way, it's left then right then left again - that's why you can't cross the road by yourself.

No you can't come out of the pram, Badoo. You wanted the pram, you got the pram, I hate the pram, I'm not pushing an empty pram. And a Euphonium.

Okay, I'll carry your heavy bag, Sambochips. Load it on top of the pram. Really, Cappers? I have to carry yours too? And Max - okay, just put all the bags onto the pram and I'll put these two on my back and, okay, Badoo, you can get out of the pram now. Please, Badoo, you wanted to get out and now I need you to... oh, forget it. Maxi, just balance yours on top of the Euphonium. Just call me 'pack horse', no problems.

Well, honey, a pack horse is usually a donkey or mule or, oh, just forget it. Forget I said anything.

Maxi, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

Slowest Boy in the World, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

No, really, Cappers, don't worry about what a mule is. Really. Don't. Worry.

We cross. Six kids, six backpacks, a pram, a sagging mumma. And a Euphonium.

Okay, everyone into the car. Seat belts on. There you go, Badoo. Forgodsakes, bend, Badoo, BEND. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Just put the seat belt on, Badoo.

Everyone else got their seat belts on? Seat belts? Put your seat belts on. Seat belts! Cappers? Flygirl? Sambochips? Maxi? Slowest Boy in the World? Oh come on, SBITW.  Maxi, help the kid out would ya?

I'll explain what a mule is later, Cappers. Don't worry about it right now. Just forget about it. You can, you  really, really can.

Right. Six bags into the boot. Pram into the boot. And a Euphonium.

FuckmedeadthisbloodyEuphoniumhowthehelldoIgetthisintothecar. @#%$^ beep &$%* ^&%$$# beep beep #$%!$@!

Right.

Okay.

We're in. I can drive with half a Euphonium on my lap, no problem. What do you mean you're hungry and thirsty? You're not the ones who've just lugged six kids, a pram, six backpacks and a freakin' Euphonium up the goddamn hill. Here, share this mouthful of water amongst yourselves and here's six crumbs left over from this morning's toast. Enjoy.

And, seriously, Flygirl. Seriously. What in god's name is wrong with the flute?

What's 'pick-up' like for you?

Do you love it as much as I do?

Do you hang around the gate and chat to the other mums? 

Do you get there early or are you always running late?

What's your baggage allowance like?

[Image by Derek R Hampshire]

Heelllo Autumn!

Fears that Autumn had passed us by were put to rest on the weekend. What glorious weather! We went for brunch at our favourite cafe and then across the road to a secret little neighbourhood park that no-one ever seems to go to but us.

Crunchy leaves under-foot soon become a mist of confetti.

Leaves in the mouth, leaves in the ears and, oh, what's that! Leaves in the nose!?

Washed down perfectly with a sunny orange and a little Cappers cheer.

One day you'll regret your refusal to pose for a picture, Badoo. When you come all sad to Mumma saying "why are there more pictures of Maxi and Cappers than me?" I will remind you of this day.

Can't I just get ONE decent photo of all three of you? Just one?

Ah well, two outta three ain't bad.

Are your children willing models? Or do they go crazy and refuse to comply like mine?
Any tips for getting them to be 'nice'?

The praise junkie

Most of the posts I write have my incessant need for praise buried in them somewhere (go on, you'll find it). It's quite possible that I wouldn't even get out of bed in the mornings if LOML wasn't there with a swift 'you look gorgeous today, honey'. I'm such a praise-junkie that part of me even believes him.

Growing up I would seek praise like a heat-missile seeks prey. The need to please others was ingrained and impossible to shake. Which of course led to gushes of tears should I actually go the opposite way and disappoint someone. My poor parents, disciplining their daughter through a sea of snot. (Don't worry, Mum and Dad, karma came calling... Cappers is exactly the same as me. It's tragic.)

So, help me out a little. I've been nominated (by my sister, don't get too excited) for the People's Choice Awards in the Sydney Writers' Centre Best Australian Blogs 2011. It's very exciting as besides realising my dream of drowning in an avalanche of praise-sweet-praise, I could also win a creative writing course. Yes, I really could!

So, please. Vote for me. Then I will stop with this incessant groveling, I promise. Oh, at least until the Kidspot Best Blogs award comes out 'cos I've been nommed in that one too... why, yes, yes I have.

Click on the image to vote. I'm on page 2 (I always wanted to say that, or was it page 3 that had the chicks?).

[Image via weheartit and I can't for the life of me work out why searching for 'praise' just ended up with a whole lot of pics of dogs. Well, maybe I could work it out, but still.]

Cappers Kazoo will not brush her hair

Do you know Ella Kazoo? She of the untamed tresses and testing 'tude? Well, that's my Cappers right there. Red hair and everything.

The only way I can get the dreaded School Hair done is to give her the choice of either the brush or the scissors. Her main ambition in life is to grow her hair down to her feet (?) so she chooses the brush every time. And then ouches and yelps and moans and squeals her way through the School Hairdo until it's done. Honestly, child, can't you just suck it up and get the job done stoically?

With The Badoo's hair even curlier and more unkempt, I see years and years and years of hair wrangling ahead of me and I just sigh. It feels like torture for both me and the child, yet... I kinda like her beautiful, thick long hair, even when it's unruly and Kazoo-like. I can't bring myself to choose the scissors either.

And so we endure.

Do you hair wrangle? Does it drive you bonkers too?

This week I'm grateful for... confidence

Three long years of swimming lessons.

By December 2010 he was still clinging to the steps, floaties on, bubble on; fearful, reluctant, stubborn, his hair dry. By January 2011 he is leaping unaided into the deep end to fetch rings at the bottom of the pool. Amazing stuff.

One thing changed: he was visited by our dear friend Confidence.

I think I can do it.

I know I can do it.

I'm going to do it.

This time I'm really going to do it.

Look, Mum! I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!

So, this week, I'm grateful for...

1. Confidence - thank you for showing my boy that he can conquer his fears and learn new loves.

2. My children's school - our second year in a row that you have taken a anxious Kinder child gently by the hand and embraced them with the joy of school life. You are a wonderful bunch of teachers, staff and families and we are lucky to have you.

3. Zooper Doopers - without you I would have exploded in the heat.

So, what's making you smile today? Grab my I'm grateful for... button from my sidebar if you like, add your I'm Grateful For post below and please add a link back to me in your post. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. Happy day to you!

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P.S. Michelle from Mummy From the Heart runs a 'Reasons to be Cheerful' linky on Fridays. 

It's like the British version of 'I'm grateful for...' (and 'cheerful' seems such a very British word all of a sudden, doesn't it?). Pop over and link up to say hi.*

* Phew. Managed to nicely resist the urge to write 'g'day' there. I'm inflicted with a terrible urge to say 'g'day' whenever I encounter foreigners. It is not an expression I would ever dream of using in my day to day life. Embarrassing.

First day

This week I'm grateful for... that pool

Hot weather, plants drooping, cicadas rattling. A lull descends.

I'm off work for two weeks. Last week of school holidays, first week back at school. Cappers is soon to be a Kinder Kid! She is champing at the bit to get in there and give this school thing a go. Maxi is schlepping about the place, terrified to go back there because he's been told he will have to 'work' in first grade. Not even 'work hard', just 'work'. The threat of actual effort is enough to send him into his own kind of lull.

But I'm going to enjoy this time with my darling, crazy, needy, loving Tsunamis, oh yes I am!

This week I'm grateful for...

 1. Our pool - I never thought I would come to love that great big water-sucking, algae-growing time-and-money-pit that came with the house. But when I see the Tsunamis leaping joyfully off the edge and swimming for hours like healthy, happy kids should... sheesh, yeah, I love it.

2. Bloggy friends - we meet so many fabulous people on these blogs of ours. It amazes me, then, that there are some people that you just 'click' with and you become firm friends even though you've apparently never met 'in real life'. Sorry, um... this is our 'real' life, isn't it? Or do I have another life somewhere that I'm unaware of? Spooky.

3. Our camera - Imagine not having 10000 images of our children on file!

[Image is of Cappers... look at me, Mum!]

So, what's making you smile today? Grab my I'm grateful for... button from my sidebar if you like, add your I'm Grateful For post below and please add a link back to me in your post. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. Happy day to you!

Dealing with Difficult People # 5: Toddlers

I am not one of those mothers who smiles sweetly at the wild-eyed newbies frantically rocking their selfish newborns and shrieks "enjoy the baby stage, just you wait until they're TWO."

No, I'm not one of those. I can't stand those know-it-all mothers who just have to share (but more on them in a later post). Besides, I think newborns are the most difficult creatures known to woman.

But toddlers, ah Toddlers, are a very close second.

Ruthless, cunning; dear god they're accountable to no one. If you've never eyeballed a Toddler on the Verge of a Naughty Breakdown, you've never viewed a true enemy. Once a Toddler has something in their sights, they will stop at nothing, absolutely NOTHING to get it.

Enter the Terrifying Toddler Tantrum. 

Mothers have been broken. Supermarkets have been trashed. Dummies have been lost.

But fear not, I've got their number. Most toddlers will try the major full-blown TTT, but most will hang out the white nappy after a single incident* when they come up against their natural born enemy: The Prepared Mother. Pop these tips in your arsenal and get ready to return fire.

1. Ignore
It's a constant refrain here at the Difficult People Files. Whether the bad behaviour is coming from a smug shop assistant, an Olympic Parent or a juiced-up Mr 2 in aisle five... the strategy is the same: IGNORE THEM. Quietly (but in a voice loud enough to be heard over the screeching... this takes practice) say, "I don't like the way you're behaving, Mr 2. I'm going to head off and you can join me when you're feeling quieter."

Step over the little tyke if you have to (avoid stepping on fingers, but they can generally take some subtle foot-to-the-butt treatment as you go by) and hide yourself nearby. Monitor out of your peripheral vision, only looking at them directly if you are certain they can't see you.

Note that while you are ignoring Mr 2 you will most probably have to ignore the tsk-tsking of general passersby as they judge you for being a cold, heartless mother or wonder what you're doing hiding behind the biscuit display. IGNORE them. If you so much as make eye-contact with one of these Concerned Citizens, Mr 2 will have won.

2. Be patient
They don't show this on Supernanny due to editing, but ignoring takes lots and lots of time.

Just keep waiting and Mr 2 will at some stage work out that you are not around for his grand performance, get even more hysterical, come looking for you, find you behind the biscuits, throw himself at you dramatically and cling like a demented barnacle to your disinterested skirt. Keep ignoring. Resist the urge to kick the hysterical little cling-on off like a used pair of undies. Mentally run through your shopping list. Mentally run through your 'To Do' list. Mentally run through your 'Life Goals'** list. Remind yourself that no child ever died from crying***. Ignore Concerned Citizens.

3. Do the walk
Allow Mr 2 to exhaust himself sobbing. You will need him fairly droopy for this next stage. This is the 'I'm really leaving' stage. You have to walk as if you mean business - with confidence, purpose and vigour. You have to do this while dragging a screaming child along, clinging to the edge of your skirt.

Oh, make sure you always wear a non-elasticised skirt to the supermarket. That should have been Tip 1.

4. Bring out the big guns

By this stage you've been hanging out in aisle five so long that they're rotating the use by dates on the food. Most toddlers will have eased to a dull roar by now, but if you've got one of those stubborn ones, you will need to bring out the big guns.

"Mr 2, if you don't calm down, I am happy to leave you right here. I don't hang out with screaming children."

"Do you want to stay here tonight? Well, calm down please."

Start to walk away again. Repeat the threat of abandonment until tantrum has subsided (don't panic, things are generally faster now they're facing a night hanging out with the store packers).

5. Hug and praise
Once the tantrum has gone and you are left with a red, heaving sludge that used to be Mr 2, get down on the floor with him (he will absolutely be on the floor. Prone.) and say, "That's a nice boy now, I'm so glad we're friends again. Shall we keep going with the shopping?"

The answer to that question, by the way, is "No." Do not keep going with the shopping. Move at lightening speed through the check-out and get the hell home.

Yes, it's taken time, yes it was a long haul. You should feel battle weary, but smiley. Exhausted, but satisfied. For you, my friend, have won the war against the Toddler. Now, you can do anything.

How did / do you handle your own children's tantrums?

* I mean it when I said that they will only ever have one using these tips. Each Tsunamis had exactly one. My only glitch was Cappers - she was never a screamer, she was a leg dropper (you know, suddenly the legs cannot possibly bear weight and the child is stiff as a board). She used to watch you disinterestedly as you walked and walked and walked away and eventually you were faced with having to start walking backwards lest you find yourself crossing roads. Really needy that one...

** If, of course, you are self-absorbed enough to have such a list. I will not judge.

*** This claim is not substantiated. It is possible that one or two healthy, loved children have cried themselves to death at some stage in history. Please do not forward sad children-dying-of-crying stories. I will not read them.

[Image via Revoluzzza's amazing monster fest]

Down in the holiday trenches

I'm 10 days into being at home every day with the Tsunamis and I'm a quivering wreck.

Oh, okay then. Maybe not a wreck, but I'm quivering.

What on earth do I do with these fireballs of energy all day? Activities, I can do. We've done beach, lagoon, pool, beach, zoo, putt-putt golf (dear god, we did putt-putt golf) and parks. It's this 'at home' business I can't get my head around. I mean, we all have to be at home sometimes, right? Right?

They won't watch much tv (believe me, I've tried) and they are really, really fast painters. In fact, they do everything at speed so activities I think will be good for an hour or more are over in 5 minutes flat. I feel like my days are permanently stuck on fast forward while they break the land-speed for playdohing and then they hit the pause button and just watch me.

"What are you doing, Cappers?"

"I'm watching you, Mummy."

"Wouldn't you rather play with your dolls?"

"No."

I've tried booting them out the back door and telling them to come in when it starts to get dark. But even I know that I'm pushing my luck when it's 7am and they're, you know, 2 years old. Maybe if it wasn't daylight savings?

Do tell me. Pretty please with vodka on top. What do you do with your children all day?

[Image via weheartit - please let me know if you know where it came from]

Dealing with Difficult People #1: Newborns

Excuse me while I detour from my usual Friday post - I am starting to agree with Maxi- Taxi: "learning stuff is boring". (He will go far.)

I'm not the most tactful person in the world which is less than ideal given that I work with some of the most arrogant and annoying people on earth (see "I'm not the most tactful person..."). Ergo, I've had loads of experience picking my way through social and political minefields so I thought I'd share my top tips on Dealing with Difficult People.

I'm starting with Newborns.

I've only ever worked with three of them, but I've seen quite a few in my time and let me tell you, without exception, they are all Difficult. They're selfish, cranky, demanding.... they're mean. They cry until you're blue in the face and then they zap you with one of those windy little smiles like that's supposed to make up for weeks of sleep drip torture, poo, mastitis and vomit. Worse, that windy smile works like a charm and we fall in love with them despite their general unloveliness. Like I said, Difficult.

But, here are my top five tips for managing these pesky newcomers:

1. Handle with confidence.
Do not, under any circumstances, let them know that you don't know what you're doing. They can smell fear and they will vomit on it.  A very tight wrap administered brusquely will help immensely until you've genuinely got a handle on things. Watch your midwife to get an idea of what brusque looks like. Watch her also for tips on how to handle the newborn - watching Rugby Union can also help here.


2.  Don't play with them, they don't like it.
Don't make the mistake of thinking that newborns are capable of doing anything more exhausting than eating. Every minute you spend dangling a toy in front of their face and gooing and gagaohlalaing is ten extra minutes they will spend screaming in their cot because they are so over stimulated. I learned this the hard way with Maxi-Taxi.

For the first eight weeks, cuddle them on waking, cuddle them before you put them to bed (preferably skin on skin), but if they're not actually eating (preferably skin on skin), ensure they are lying in their cot or pram ready for sleep. Playing comes later (and never, ever ends).


3. You're a family now and forevermore
Batten down the hatches and for now just fold yourself into a little family package. Some visitors are lovely and easy and leave the home in a more relaxed state than they found it it. Most are not like that. You have more important things to do than serve drinks and tidy the house for guests. Like sleep.

It's also about keeping the overstimulation down to a manageable size. Faces are MAJOR work when you're freshly minted. Know that the more people your baby sees and is held by, the crazier he will be. Guests go home, you get left with the crank all by your lonesome.


4. Newborns cry, that's what they do.
Newborns are all different, but they have two things in common. They're all mysteriously adorable and they all cry. Maxi-Taxi was an overstimulated mess. He cried every night from 6pm until 9pm, non stop. All we could do was hold him and cry right along with him. Cappers was an angel who rarely cried but when she did it she would set car alarms off in the street. The embarrassment of her screeching when we were out in public had to be experienced to be believed. The Badoo just grizzled permanently from sun down until sun up. Grumpy was her middle name and while she rarely cried, she rarely smiled either.

Your newborn will cry too and that's okay. It's up to you whether you pick them up every time they cry. Just know that they can cry in the bed just as easily as in your arms. And they'll be crying in their bed for a lot, lot longer if they get used to crying in your arms...


5. Remember, you're a newborn too.
Be gentle and kind to both your baby and yourself. You're a newborn mum and you deserve to give yourself the same loving care that you are giving your baby. Sometimes that means co-sleeping when you didn't plan to co-sleep. It means giving a bottle when you wanted to breastfeed exclusively. It means calling your neighbour and asking them to come right over to mind Cranky Pants so you can run away.

Treat yourself as you'd like your baby to treat you. With love, with kindness, with compassion, with sleep.

And remember, above all else: This, too, shall pass.

How were your newborn days? What are your best tips to share?

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PS - Come flog with me come flog come flog away... 

[Image by Suse Bauer of one of her many amazing Revoluzzza monster softies!]

When I grow up I want to be a something...

The temperamental climate at work has meant that I've been thinking about my 'career' a lot lately. I say 'career' because I abandoned the notion of a Career the instant I clapped eyes on my firstborn. While once I thought 'climbing the ladder' was a purposeful and interesting way to spend my time, nowadays I have a job and I'm happy with that. But sometimes I think 'coulda, shoulda, woulda...'

I'm 'in advertising', I used to be 'in marketing' and then at one stage I was 'in PR'. What I really want for the Tsunamis is that they be A Something.  A plumber, a delivery driver, a doctor, a farmer, a zoo keeper, a researcher... just A Something. A Something that has a bit of meaning, that's a Career, a Vocation.

At my work the expression 'we're not saving lives' is often raised to try to quell the hysteria that builds when we are behind on our mega-urgent, mega-important drop-dead oh-dear-god-are-we-going-to-make-it  deadline... to put an advertisement into a newspaper. (Hmmmm... I wonder what the neurosurgeons say when they are equally as Stressed Out with Very Pressing and Important Matters?)

I'd like the Tsunamis to be able to say "Me? Oh, I'm A..." and launch into a riveting account of their day doing something important. "I saved a woman's house from flooding" or "I helped birth a baby elephant" or "I introduced three new people to the artwork of Bugalugs".

Maxi used to want to work in a museum but now he wants to be A Film Maker and make films about animals (or Zhu Zhu pets judging by his debut film which wrapped about a month ago and is currently in editing). Cappers wants to assist Maxi to make films about animals (not surprisingly she used to want to assist Maxi at the museum). But in her spare time she wants to be An Artist. The Badoo is practicing to become A Kickboxing / Headbutting / Martial Arts Expert. She's but moments away...

Do you have aspirations for your children? What do they want to be when they grow up?

[Image by Ben Heine]

The gentle art of re-purposing

Here are the home-made tissue pom-poms from Cappers' birthday party hanging above her bed. They look so dramatic and attractive. Let's just ignore the rumpled bed, shall we? I smoothed it just-so, ready for the photo and an entire Badoo landed on it. Such is my lackadaisical approach to photographing bedrooms, I left it just the way it was. Home Beautiful will not be calling any time soon, me thinks.

So, let's just keep the focus on the Pom-poms as Everyday Decorations and let me just say: Don't wait for a party, get fluffing!

PS - that pretty little dress with the bunting picture in the background is by Wynona at Ivy Designs. Just beautiful.

♥ Mermaidia Magic

The Cappers is five! We celebrated with a Mermaid (and Pirates) party yesterday. 

I made the Martha tissue pom poms as promised. They were both easier (it's a simple thing to do) and harder (it's fiddly) than I thought. But the end result was very festive and presentable enough (don't look too closely!)

I added some seaweed and little fish streamers... very weedy.

These little 'ice creams' were a huge hit... marshmallows in the base, chocolate crackle top, dipped in white chocolate and sprinkles on the top... as yummy as it sounds!

Because the ice creams were hard-core sugar, I made wholemeal raspberry muffins instead of cupcakes and made them more festive with a mermaid cake topper (printed out a pic, cut out the circle, stuck them on a toothpick). Marshmallow and strawberry kebabs (Cappers enjoyed putting these together as I made the cake).

And, of course, the cake. My first time working with fondant icing and it was... sticky. 2am and I'm covered in fondant icing. I found it really, really hard to add colouring. The more you kneaded to try to spread the colour, the sticker things got. Even a quick zap in the fridge would only give me a few more kneads at a time. Any hints?

We went on a submarine adventure through the ocean - what can we see? What's happening out there? Quick, run from the shark! Totally impromptu, but they absolutely loved it. Another thing - forget about toy prizes, medals for winners were the best thing ever.

I made mermaid costumes for the girls (fabrics, hot glue gun, lei, wand and sticky face jewels, hello). Little girls just love it when they all look the same... something in that...

Random photo showing off The Badoo and her pirate cousin Mr 3.

The boys' pirate costumes came from the $2 shop and were... $2. The pirates enjoyed harassing the mermaids immensely.

It was a fabulous day and Cappers loved it. I was so proud of my little girl when she was prompted as to what her birthday wish was and she looked around at everyone and said "I love my friends". Yes, that's what it's all about, my lovely. Happy happy birthday. 

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My party inspiration and mermaid picture for decorations came from Living Locurto.

And because I never do anything even half as exciting as this in "My Creative Space" "At My House", I'm linking up at Buttons by Lou Lou's on Monday and Kootoyoo's on Thursday this week. I'm a long time listener, first time caller on both these fabulous memes.

I'm also linking up (as always) with Anna's Much Love Monday. I love it over there.

Could this be the most memed post ever? Talk about flogging the horse!!