You may call me Senorita Ranty Pants

It's been quite a week here. A friend sent me a hilarious text, to which I replied 'Thanks for this. It's been a really shitty half hour and that made me laugh so much!' My phone actually said 'Thanks for this. It's been a really shirtful half hour and that made me laugh so much.' So I replied 'Ducking autocorrect.' That kind of explains everything I think.

Today's ranty pants are brought to you by some first world whinging, and a handful of WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, PEOPLE?

It is sinfully cold here at present, and after battling through a load of somewhat damp firewood we ordered another load. It did not turn up when it was promised.

'Ah, sorry Amy. We got caught up. We can bring it tomorrow afternoon. Have you got any wood left at all?'


'Um, we'll be ok. Tomorrow arvo will be fine.'

Tomorrow afternoon rolls around and there is still no firewood. We are down to the wood splitting block and a blow heater.

'Uh, Wood Lady? Just wondering what time you'll be here.'

'Hour and a half at the latest. See you then!'

Five minutes later.

'Hey Amy, it's a bit dangerous and wet in the paddock here. My partner doesn't want me to be driving the tractor in this weather. Besides, the wood is all wet.'

I leave an awkward silence here for her to explain what her next plan could be.


'Uh, Wood Lady? Did you want to leave it then?'

'I think that'd be best Amy. It's just a bit dangerous.'


I begin trawling Gumtree and Facebook to find some dry firewood. Eventually I give up, head next door to my lovely young neighbours who give me an armful of firewood over the fence. I comment on the loveliness (hey, it's winter. Good firewood is sexy.) of the wood.

(That's what she said...)

Jack mentions that it's from his Dad's property.

'OH MY JACK. Does your Dad want to sell it?'

It's agreed upon. A load will be delivered tomorrow at lunchtime.

Delivered it is. When I return from town I find it stacked neatly in my yard and covered in a tarp.

It's lovely dry firewood. Bam.

This summer will be the Summer of Firewood. I'm sorry friends, I won't be able to do anything remotely fun this summer, I'll be cutting and stacking as much firewood as I can stand, because this is truly the most shirtful part of winter.

Don't even get me started on the cost.

I was feeling much better about the wood situation now I was warm again, when I saw this on Facebook this morning.

Right here, this is why I hate Australian culture sometimes. We're so intent on dragging each other down that 'keeping up with the Joneses' headlines like this are normal.

I see a young man proposing to his girlfriend in a fairly public fashion. That's awesome, FOR THEM. Love should be celebrated. But tell me, why does it make everyone else look bad? Because our loves didn't propose to us in a cinema for all to see? Because it makes you feel like you should have paraded your moment in a social media-esque fashion? Because they did it differently? 

How about we just be happy for them? 

I know it's a clickbait article. I hate that articles and headlines like this even exist, and I know they exist because people continue click on them. I struggle to understand the dog-eat-dog mentality behind articles like this, where you can almost see the sarcasm dripping from the headline. 'Thanks mate. You showed us all up.' Yes, it's meant for a cheap, quick laugh, but I truly believe it's symptomatic of something much deeper. 

Why do we let other people's choices make us feel so inferior?

On that note, I'm off to enjoy my kid-free Friday. If you need me, I'll be sewing the remainder of 137 roman blind rings whilst binge watching Downton Abbey.

FFS Friday - My Co-workers Yell At Me A Lot

  • It's pretty safe to say that now I'm not in the thick of newborn sleep deprivation that I'm struggling a bit with my definition of a Stay At Home Mum. FFS.
  • There's been no posting here because I feel like I should be worried about valid world-changing things like world hunger or genocide. FFS.
  • A fellow blogger called me out on this when I saw him at the shops last week. He suggested to get over myself and push through it. Thanks, Steve. Here you go. NO FFS.
  • Instead I'm over the moon about vacuuming my house daily and how I cleaned my microwave. Is that completely self indulgent? FFS.
  • And before you say 'Raising children is The Most Important Job'... well, don't. I get it, I do. FFS.
  • I wouldn't change a thing about raising children except for I wish I knew how to deal with the epic tantrums that seem to have appeared. FFS.
  • Like, right now Pippa (22 months) is hanging off my leg screaming 'MAAAAAKE! MAAAAKE! CUUUDDDDLLLLE!' and then running off to watch The Octonauts. FFS.
  • I took the two handfuls of playdough off her that she had swiped from Playgroup and fallen asleep clutching in the car. FFS.
  • It's a pretty strange feeling that I'm not just wading through motherhood on sleep deprivation and coffee fumes anymore. My kids sleep at night and so do I. Except when I can't sleep because I've drunk too much coffee because OMG tantrums. FFS.
  • So, shouldn't I be going back to work for someone else because there's no immediate need (boobs) for me to be at home with my babies? FFS.
  • WAIT. I don't have a job anymore. They made me redundant (NO FFS) and didn't tell anyone so I still fend questions two years on about when I'm coming back to work. Awkward. FFS.
  • So, instead we craft, paint, clean, play and create. It's pretty sweet. NO FFS.
  • We're getting better at leaving the house too. We go to Playgroup every Friday and the girls LOVE IT and I get to talk to grown ups. NO FFS.
  • Lady Pip falls asleep in the car 10 minutes from home afterwards and it's often the Nap Of Death. FFS.
  • Still, it beats staying at home listening to calls of 'Mum, can you get me some food please? I'm hungry.' NO FFS.
  • The dog next door loses her mind when she sees foreign people. Yesterday she barked at me, a tree and some leaves through two fences and my sewing room window for an hour. There is also no nice way to say to your incredibly lovely neighbours 'Your dog hates me and always barks at me. PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.' FFS.
  • I rang Millie's ENT receptionist this week after she sent me an email asking me to call her. It took 10 minutes of her trying to work out why she'd emailed me two days prior. She couldn't open the email attachment I'd sent of a health fund form. If she'd said that I could have resent it two days earlier and saved us both the hassle. FFS.
  • I did a complete freezer inventory of my second 300L chest freezer yesterday. We have enough food for 30 meals in various forms. Thank god, because I have spent the most ungodly amount of money for my food shopping over the past month for some reason. Turns out I'd just been cooking and hoarding an inordinate amount of food. I then made a colour coded list of 'Meals Ready To Go', 'Meals with Minimal Prep' and 'To Be Cooked'. I was overjoyed. NO FFS.
  • When I proudly showed Mr S, he was not as excited as I was. FFS.
  • Thankfully my BFFAARBF Louise was as excited as I was. NO FFS.
  • I have been sewing some cushions in preparation to sell and perhaps begin a crafty business. When I finished one on Wednesday I showed Millie. She said 'OH it's lovely Mummy! Is it for me?' 'No honey, it's to sell.' 'OH MUMMY you are so funny! No one would want to buy a cushion. Who'd buy a CUSHION?! Silly Mummy!' WTF?! FFS.
  • When I relayed this to Mr S that evening, he laughed and got it straight away. Who'd buy a cushion when your Mummy could just make one for you? After all, Mummies make your clothes and can make anything you need, right? We don't buy presents because we can make them! NO FFS. (I'm doing this parenting thing right, after all.)
  • Also, my microwave is SO CLEAN. NO FFS.

FFS Friday - The Business Edition

Short and sweet this week. It's freezing here (FFS) and both girls have snotty noses (FFS). Cuddles are required. But before I lose my train of thought...

M requires a tonsillectomy and adenoidectomy. FFS.
Whilst she has private health insurance, she hasn't held it for twelve consecutive months yet, meaning that she's ineligible for this surgery in a private hospital without a certificate from her surgeon and our GP saying it's a non pre-existing condition. FFS.
I prefer the public hospital anyway. NO FFS.
But their waiting lists are known for being atrocious. FFS.
With this in mind we put the request form for her surgery the day she was given it.
I called the next day to make sure that the form made it's way to the right people. The response was 'Well M'am, if you put it in the box we would have it. OK?' FFS.
Fast forward to yesterday. Four weeks after I'd called and we hadn't heard anything. I called again, got put through to a lovely lady who couldn't find M in the system anywhere. She offered to call me back immediately after she'd done some research. NO FFS.
She called me back about three minutes after we hung up. 'I'm so sorry, but I've just been downstairs to double check and your form was still in the box. It's been there since you put it in there. I've added her to the waiting list now and I've backdated your request. Did you happen to take the tape off the box opening to put your form in?' 'Nope.' 'Ah. Well, I'm sorry about the mix up.' FFS.
I'm glad it's not urgent surgery. Perhaps the public servant who condescendingly told me 'Well M'am, if you put it in the box we would have it.' COULD HAVE CHECKED. FFS.

In June I subscribed to RedPawPaw, a new Australian business offering a box of grocery sample products delivered for $5. Sure! Why not? It was fun getting a big box of groceries. NO FFS.
I am so old. FFS.
The second box from RedPawPaw took an extraordinarily long time to arrive, and the company doesn't answer their phones and wasn't replying to their Facebook page queries. FFS.
Towards the end of the month with no tracking number available my parcel arrived via Australia Post, not a courier as explicitly stated. FFS.
Mighty first world inconvenience - AP parcels need to be signed for and picked up. Courier comes to my door. FFS.
Filled with glossy printed brochures, the RedPawPaw box looks lush and high end. NO FFS.
What is FFS-Worthy is the email that arrived the week after the last box, stating that due to high demand they were relaunching in two month's time. And then the email saying that due to customer complaints they were changing their delivery partner (to Australia Post). They also stated that they would unfortunately have to pass on their delivery cost. FFS.
This brings the new cost from $5/month to $19.25/month. FFS.
No no, it's cool. You can cancel. NO FFS.
So I did. NO FFS.
Then overnight I got an email thanking me for my continued business and a receipt for the charge of $19.25 for my August box. FFS.
They aren't answering their phones. FFS.
Nor replying to questions on their Facebook page. FFS.
I have cancelled my box again on their website. FFS.
Who knows what will happen next? FFS.

FFS Friday - A Comedy of Errors

It is 9.39am here as I tap away on my computer. The girls are entertaining themselves with a puzzle and a wind up mobile. Let me tell you about the last two days as I laugh hysterically on the edge of sleep.


The girls are both in filthy moods all day. There's snatching of toys, raised voices, throwing self on floor tantrums and surprisingly none of those behaviours were mine. After swearing black and blue that she does not need a sleep M crashes out in the beanbag for 40 minutes. P has an unusually long sleep and looks a bit worse for wear when she wakes up. I realise that perhaps she is coming down with a cold or tonsillitis again. I hope not. Tomorrow is my six hours of freedom of daycare.

Overnight M wakes up twice saying her throat hurts and winds up sleeping in our bed wearing no pajamas but instead a sparkly princess dress. Sure.


P looks awful when she wakes up and appears to have a fever. I hope that she's just warm from sleeping. She refuses to eat breakfast, and throws a few epic tantrums over life ruining events like "Daddy won't let me eat my cereal standing in front of the stereo". Half an hour before we leave for daycare I check her temperature again and sure enough, it's 38.3, up from the 38.1 when she got up.
We have a discussion about the correct days of the week to get sick. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday are fine. The day in uneventful and P accompanies me to the Dr for my appointment. She is ok for now, but her throat is pretty red and we have a script at the ready.

Overnight M wakes twice. Mr S brings her into our bed where she promptly sets up camp on my side of the bed and Mr S goes bACK TO SLEEP. P IS SITTING ON MY LAP as I am typing. Can you tell?


At 5am P WAkes up AND I RESETTLE Her and decide that I might as well stay awake as P's bottle leaked all over my dressing gown and ergo, leaked all over me. I'm cold and I calculate the odds of an uninterrrupted shower and a hot cup of coffee are pretty good. I decide that's a stupid idea and I could have more sleep. I go to get back into bed and discover M snoring on my side. Shower and coffee it is.

I shower in peace, have a hot cup of coffee whilst watching the Commonwealth Games. I decide to put some wood on the fire and get the porridge going. This is when my day gets laughably interesting.

The fire smokes somewhat and after putting the wood on the fire I head off to the kitchen to get the breakfast started. Suddenly the smoke alarm starts binging away madly. It's not the one in the dining room (near the fire) but the one right next to my bedroom. Where everyone is sleeping. I race through the house and wave a cushion at the smoke alarm hollering 'IT'S OK IT'S OK' to Mr S and Millie. I poke my head around the door and explain briefly what happened. M is shaken but has several explanations of Fireman Sam and what she would do if there was a real fire. As Mr S tells M that Fireman Sam won't be coming because he has realised we were just having a practice, M explains to us both that Fireman Sam isn't real, he's just on TV. I tell them both to go back to sleep and go back to the couch with my coffee.

Twenty minutes later I hear M still chatting to a half asleep Mr S. I encourage her to come out the lounge with me to let Daddy sleep. He grumbles that his alarm will go off in two minutes anyway... but still manages to bring himself to closing his eyes for another half hour.

M and I settle down to breakfast ("I DON'T LIKE PORRIDGE MUM I WANT CEREAL PLEASE") and watch the Rhythmic Gymnastics. Mr S strolls through to the shower giving me a "TV with breakfast?" eyebrow. M immediately abandons her breakfast in favour of a shower.

P wakes up and demands breakfast immediately. I'd hope so after the sum total of the food she ate the day before was a cookie, a banana, a bite of sandwich and a few crackers. M is getting dressed (again) after her shower and I try to make P's breakfast before M realises that she is eating the abandoned breakfast.

Too late.

P snarfs her breakfast, M snarfs her breakfast. P throws a tantrum when I don't encourage her to use a peeled banana as a rolling pin. M throws a tantrum when I don't let her have her dummy "BUT I AM SO TIRED" (THEN YOU SHOULD STAY IN YOUR BED AT NIGHT AND SLEEP).

I attempt to put away Mt Washmore after vacuuming, dishes, bathroom clean and making the beds. P finds me to tell me 'No more wateer?'. I foolishly think that she's drunk it all. Thirsty girl! I make my way back to the loungeroom for more clothes to put away when I see that the water is actually all over the couch. Remove couch cover. Blot couch with towel.

Hey Mr S, let's buy a cream microfibre couch. Yes, we don't have kids.
Only idiots would have a cream couch with kids.
We'll totally not still have this couch by the time we have kids.
We now own two rotating couch covers.

M is yelling for me from the bathroom. Sit down and talk her through her morning ablutions, help her get dressed again. She is screaming and I'm not entirely sure why. She scraped her knee on Sunday and she says at top volume that it is HURTING HURTING HURTING. Continue with the washing.

P finds me and I realise she needs a nappy change. Go to change her nappy, Mr S announces that he is leaving and can't wait for me to change Pip before he has a cuddle. Sure thing. They play a game on the bed and I take over Mr S's part in the game. At the punchline of the game P looks at me like I'm an idiot.

We agree that Mummy is indeed an idiot and I get back to the washing.


I finally finish the washing, which took a surprisingly long time given that it was only half a load. FFS.

I head to the kitchen to do the dishes where I am found and repeatedly asked the following question and I'll let you decide who is who (whom is whom? Whatever.):
'Mum? May I have a cookie please? And a macaron?'

We agree that after I've done the dishes they may have ONE cookie or ONE macaron each, not both. It takes a few more reiterations of this before the message is clear.

One cookie is had by each child and parent. I hang up the next load of washing. I have also sat in front of the couch drying it with my hairdryer.

Coffee again.

It's now 10.11am and I have been out of my chair four times to witness M putting together the same six piece puzzle by herself 'AWESOME WORK! HIGH FIVE!' and winding up the music box for P 'MUM WORK WORK WORK'. I am about to hit up another coffee.

May I also just mention that Mr S asked me to bake 'A lot, like LOTS of treats' for his staff on Stocktake Day. I did.

He told me when he got home that day that they weren't actually arriving until 3pm. He also 'forgot' the macarons. I know he doesn't like them, but I don't really either and I thought his workmates would enjoy them. FFS.

I gave the macarons to my neighbours last night. They said they were lovely.

Yours in Fridays,


FFS Friday - The Kid's Show Edition

Norman Price

The main protagonist on Fireman Sam, Norman Price, is a young 'mischievous' lad who makes trouble at every turn. Station Officer Steele is the only character with any sense who wishes to 'set him straight' whilst his mother Dilys mutters things about him being a good boy, truly. It's also what I imagine the mothers of misbehaving rugby players must say. Also, the closing credits to The Great Fire of Pontypandy state 'It's the safest place we know, Pontypandy by the sea' - LIES. It's clearly NOT the safest place if there's a fire every day requiring the help of expert firemen. And whilst I'm at it, I'm surprised Elvis and Mandy haven't taken out Sam on the quiet. They seem to be competent firemen but Sam's always there barging in to fix everything. FFS.


I have grown to enjoy the 'new' Wiggle line-up. Lady P is somewhat Wiggle obsessed and comes sidling up to me saying 'Mum? Wiggles PWEEEEEASE?'. I find myself humming 'Apples and Bananas' and realise that its 10pm and my kids are nowhere in sight. FFS.

Wiggles vs Tasmanian Tiger

Whilst watching said Wiggles, I heard a song about the Tasmanian Tiger. I was visibly disgusted to see what they used for a Tasmanian Tiger costume. WTF Wiggles? SHAME ON YOU. FFS.

Let It Rain

I live in a high rainfall area. So much so that I haven't watered my vegie garden in months. There seems to be one spot on my deck that does not get wet, no matter how horizontal the rain is. The first I realised of this was Mr S asking 'Amy? Have you been watering the Jasmine plant?'. The answer is no, Mr S, I have not. I have begun watering it, but I noticed it had been moved to the middle of the deck today. Perhaps to catch some of the 30mm/24hr rainfall we've been experiencing. FFS.

Hangry Hangry Hippos

M is a never-ending toddler pit of hunger. Between 7am and 9.30am this morning I was asked 'MUM. I'm hungry. What can I have to eat please?'. After breakfast, which was two courses of cereal, a piece of toast and a drink. I cracked the shits with this and at 9am made two gigantic lunchboxes with the instruction 'When this is gone, you may have something else to eat.' This would usually buy me a few hours, and perhaps by lunchtime I would help them finish up so we can eat lunch. Nope. By 11am 'Mum, I've finished this, may I have something else please?'. OMG FFS.

Reasons My Toddlers Are Crying

Me: 'I asked you if you wanted it cut in a dinosaur shape, and you said yes.'

P: Threw herself on the ground at the park between Mr S and I. Face down in the tanbark, making tanbark angels whilst screaming hysterically. Why? I wouldn't let her drink my latte. I KNOW. FFS.

Is it warm yet?

M loves the warm weather. She loves to splash in her paddling pool and wear as few clothes as possible. Every day for the last month she asks me slyly 'Is it warm yet?' The first few times I fell for it and as it was indeed warm in the house, 'Yes, it is warm.' 'GREAT! Let's get out my blue pool!' Er, no. This was met by much sadness on her part. Now I know that the answer is 'It's nice inside in the sun, but outside it is still winter. It's not warm enough to go swimming outside yet.' But seriously, every single day. FFS.


When she was ill, Lady P was regularly up at 5am in our bed, either screaming or wanting cuddles. She was almost better but still having these 5am jaunts. I was trying to settle her back to sleep and she rolled over, sat up, ripped the covers off Mr S and yelled 'CAKE CUP OCKY'. Immediately we both realised what she was doing. Yep, her own version of 'Wake Up Lochy'. Thank you Wiggles. FFS.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got some Wiggles to dance to.

FFS Friday - Wintery Whining & Customer Service

Wintery Whining

  • It's cold. I know I live 43 degrees south. My freezing temperature is not helped by the load of wood I've currently got, which requires a Very Hot Fire for it to actually burn. OH, the logic. FFS.
  • My house resembles Mt Washmore. I'm into load 2 of 4 or 5 for the day. FFS.
  • I hate folding washing. FFS.
  • It's deceptively sunny outside, which means Millie asks me approximately 5 times per day 'Now it's warmer, can we fill up my little blue pool?' and my answer of 'No, it's winter.' is not met with happiness. FFS.
  • Can I get a weary 'what what?' from my parental colleagues about Threenagers. FFS.
  • In the interest of my personal ethics, I responded to an email about a paid but undisclosed post for the blog with the request of higher payment and disclosure. The client does not do disclosed sponsored posts. FFS.
  • I used to work in newspapers, and that sort of thing HAD to be labelled 'ADVERTORIAL'. FFS.

Customer Service

  • I am huge on customer service. When I worked in retail I was always shocked at how surprised my shop's customers were about the high level of service we displayed. FFS.
  • It shits me that good service is a rarity. FFS.
  • I am the annoying person that rings a business to say what good customer service I had today. NO FFS.
  • I ring Coles Online all the time because their drivers are consistently AWESOME and Coles need to know this. They are doing it right. NO FFS.
  • My driver thanked me and said that he'd been given a box of nice chocolates from his boss for a job well done. NO FFS.
  • I've been trying to source some clear vinyl for a sewing project. It appears to be available in the states, or not at all. Perhaps Spotlight? I haven't tried there yet. I avoid The Big City where possible. FFS.
  • I've been ringing a few small online sewing supply businesses to source said vinyl. One had not returned my call, five days later. FFS.
  • Another did, and was thankfully very helpful. NO FFS.
  • Guess where my business goes next? 

You Like to Laugh at Me (it's ok, I do too)

  • Sometimes Facebook Page schematics do my head in. FFS.
  • I know that I have a loving attentive husband, however it seems that when I bake he is blinded by the delightful scent of freshly baked goods. FFS.

You all on Facebook seemed to like the Ridiculous Spousal Conversation (tm) that ensued this week.
Ridiculous Spousal Conversation of the Day (tm): Mr S: 'Can you please bear in mind that I need food for work when you do the shopping?'Me: 'What do you mean? There's a freezer full of muffins in the laundry.'Mr S: 'You did not tell me.'
Later... I rang him.
Me: 'When I baked you twenty four delicious muffins I SAID 'I will put these in the outside freezer for you. You said 'Okay'. OKAY?'Mr S: 'Okay...'
Never let it be said that I hold a grudge about baked goods.

I'm glad my baked goods, pre coffee frustration is a great source of amusement for everyone.

Have a lovely weekend!

FFS Friday - Hidden Vegies and Cider

My fortnight has been a perfect mix of light and dark. In plainer speak, a great mixture of FFS Material and Shiny Things.

Let's go way way back...

  • Last Tuesday morning I was on my way back to bed after resettling Lady Pippa when my iPad and iPhone started binging loudly. And continuing to bing loudly. I couldn't find the blessed iPad and my iPhone was on the dock, next to Mr S's head. I went in to the bedroom to find him staring bleary eyed and very confusedly at the phone. 'Make it stop! What's going on?' I HAVE NO IDEA.
F**k you.

  • I spent the next hour working out how to unlock my iPad. My iPhone was unaffected because it has a passcode. Rest assured that the iPad now has a passcode. FFS.
  • My children are on a dinner strike. FFS.
  • Pippa's vocabulary is skyrocketing daily. Her response to dinner is 'Yuck'. FFS.
  • I wonder where she learned that, Millie? FFS.
  • I mean, it's fine. NO FFS.
  • Nope, I lied. IT IS NOT FINE. I spent an hour blitzing vegies and making a pasta bake with spaghetti in it because last night's dinner soundtrack was a toddler screaming because the spaghetti 'WAS NOT BIG SPAGHETTI I WANT BIG SPAGHETTI'. So a pasta bake with spaghetti instead. Sure thing. The response: "It's ingusting. So ingusting. I WANT SPAGHETTI.' FFS.
  • Guess who will eat a big breakfast tomorrow because there's no other food anymore. You can get out of bed and EAT YOUR DINNER. FFS.
  • I have started drinking after dinner due to the stress of dinner. Cider is my BFF. NO FFS.
  • Millie is big on sounds at the moment. She spends all day making SOUNDS. Just, SOUNDS. Usually some variation on a raspberry. ALL DAY. FFS.
  • I am still suffering with shin splints and ITB injuries, plantar fasciitis and various upper back issues related to carrying heavy toddlers around and being tall. FFS.
  • My girls lie down on the floor with me, do their 'strachies', steal my tennis balls (plantar fasciitis) and my foam roller (ITB and shin splints) and try to eat my frozen peas (ice pack for shins). FFS.
  • They won't eat cooked peas so I'll take what I can get. NO FFS.
  • Pip's new favourite sound is her version of a siren, which is somewhat both ear splittingly loud in volume and quite an... unusual sound. FFS.

  • Millie's favourite song is "Roar" by Katy Perry. In case you're not sure of what is is, here you go.
  • We listen to it at least a few times per day. Pip was standing behind me when I was putting music on Spotify this week saying 'Oh oh oh oh-oh OH OH OH' and I wasn't sure what she was saying... then I realised she wanted to listen to "Roar". Child musical genius. NO FFS.
  • There are far worse songs with far worse messages that my children could want to listen to. NO FFS.
  • My third toddler (THE FREAKING CAT) refuses to sleep in past 5.30am if one of the two occurs: 1) Her food bowl is empty or 2) She has food in her bowl but wants you to show it to her. I'm getting well trained at sleeping with my fingers in my ears. FFS.

  • It's now three hours later than when I started writing this. I have now been fed, watered and cuddled by my family and feeling decidedly less stabby... this does not make for good writing. FFS.

FFS Friday - Counting Biscuits and No Sleep.

  • I recently subscribed to Runners World magazine, iPad edition, through Amazon. It is a great read. This month's issue is dedicated to the 2013 Boston Marathon. I read it non stop and realised what a privilege it is to have a working, moving body. NO FFS.
  • I've been paying more attention to my body and actually enjoying moving it. In fact, getting downright non-endorphin'd when unable to run. FFS.
  • M calls them 'Dorpins' or 'Dolphins'. It took us a few days to work out what she meant when she asked Mr S 'Daddy, do you get dorpins from riding your bike?'. NO FFS.
  • She throws a lot of threenager tantrums at the moment. FFS.
  • I thought 'Terrible Twos' was... terrible. It was not. FFS.
  • A lovely young couple have bought the house next door to us and have been renovating a storm before their wedding this week. They are completely lovely. I'm certain they think I'm a stalker, as I offer them cookies, tomatoes, zucchinis. I feel like a bit of a stalker doing it, but it's how we roll in the country. I just have trouble remembering their names, and I mixed it all up again today. I get nervous meeting new people and then I'm pretty much convinced they hate me. FFS.
  • I'm not getting much sleep at the moment. Daylight saving can go and get f... take a running jump. M & P have been greeting the world between 5-6am most mornings. FFS.
  • They're both a bit unwell, and last night went a little like...
    10.30pm: lights out.
    12.30am: M awake. Mr S attends. M asleep.
    2.30am: M awake. Making a strange sound. Realise she's sounding like she's got croup. (FFS!) Mr S brings panadol, a vaporiser and a drink.
    3.30am: lights out.
    5am: P awake. Feed, nappy change and back to bed.
    5.30am: lights out.
    6am: Mr S's alarm goes off.
    6.07am: Mr S's alarm goes off.
    6.14am: Mr S's alarm goes off.
    6.21am: P awakens. Mr S's alarm goes off.
    6.40am: M awakens.

  • M and I baked cookies today. I froze 3 dozen dough balls, baked 2 dozen and gave M a sheet of non-chocolated cookies to decorate with sprinkles. She ate a lot of sprinkles, licked the beater, tasted the butter, tasted both kinds of sugar and lost it when I wouldn't let her eat any more ANYTHING. FFS.
  • We baked them, they cooled, we had one each. NO FFS.
  • We were outside and I noticed that M suddenly had a neverending biscuit. I asked how many she had eaten. She said 5. FFS.
  • Her counting is excellent, but 5 could actually mean 7. FFS.
  • She then threw an awesome tantrum about her socks, her shoes, how neither fit, her feet hurt, she didn't want to go outside, her socks, her shoes, her feet hurt, she didn't want to go outside... FFS. It made me think of this:
  • She locked herself in her room. I thought seriously about continuing to garden outside and leave her to it. However, I tucked her into bed, said 'nite nite', closed the door. I came back 15min later to see her snoring. NO FFS.
  • It was 4pm. FFS.
  • I came back again 15 min later to hear screaming. FFS.
  • And finally, M is trying to drop her day sleep.

    I'll let the gravity of that statement fully sink in for you.

    I KNOW. FFS.
Dear Baby G

FFS Friday

This past week saw M's third birthday, with birthday party attached. She's been checking out the character birthday cakes in Woolworths for the past six months for her birthday, deciding each week between Mickey Mouse (Squeaky Mouse), Lightning McQueen (Lightwing Aqueen), Peppa Pig (PEPPA, caps deliberate) and Thomas the Tank Engine (Thomas the Tank Engine). Whilst I was mildly concerned about how the frozen for transport then thawed in store cakes would TASTE and I was not keen on paying $25 for a cake... it was what my firstborn wanted. And if it meant I wouldn't need to spend hours baking and decorating a cake... well...

We go to Woolworths the week before M's birthday and enquire about the likelihood of a PEPPA cake, as that was what Madam had deigned necessary. We are gently told that the decorated cakes have been discontinued and there is a Lightning McQueen cake they can give us for cheap because it's cracked. FFS.


I then offered to make M any cake her heart desired. My cake skillz are pretty mad and they've never let me down before. I am very thankful for the full year of night classes Skye and I took in cake decorating in 2008. She says Peppa. I think of all the Peppa cakes I've seen where her snout looks like... well... a penis. FFS.

Mr S thinks I am crazy for even envisaging such a problem. FFS.

So, with Mothership's supervision and me having endless mini shouty rants of 'I CAN'T TALK RIGHT NOW MUM, NOT TALKING RIGHT NOW, ICING SHIT SHIT SHIT' - this happened.

I gave myself several high fives. NO FFS.

I posted the above picture on Instagram and the first comment was 'You did such a great job unlike the other Peppa cakes I've seen, where her snout looks like a penis.' I KNOW, RIGHT? NO FFS.

M's party went well, although she appears to be blessed with my social genes whereupon worries that no one is coming to party when no one had turned up five minutes after the official start time. FFS.

I had really hoped that my kids missed that one. FFS.

We moved both girls into the same room on the weekend. The first day was appalling, where no one had a day sleep. I went in to check on them and M was going the slide next to P's head. P thought it was glorious. FFS.

All settled down and now they're pretty good. NO FFS.

Aside from today, where P refused to go to sleep and spent 45 minutes singing, bashing the walls, pulling stuffed toys through the sides of her cot and trying to get pictures off her walls. FFS.

She wasn't screaming her head off whilst she was doing this, so it's not too bad. NO FFS.

Today we went to the supermarket and whilst I had M's hand firmly gripped whilst going across the zebra crossing RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOORS, a car sped through the zebra crossing without a second glance. Terrifying. M was two paces ahead of me whilst still firmly holding my hand, and I've never been so terrified and furious all at one. I waved my child laden arms at the car with a look of horror and anger on my face. If her window had been open I would have screamed 'WHAT THE FECK ARE YOU DOING YOU FECKWIT?'. Truly. I had a headache and it was naptime for the chickens. FFS.

The way I moved my arms around it probably looked like I was doing a funny dance. FFS.

L and I have been running like mad women lately. Upon the advice of my GP (a fitness fanatic) I invested in a Garmin factory reconditioned GPS HRM watch. It is glorious and looks giant on my bird wrists. I do love it though. NO FFS.

Did I mention that L and I ran our first fun run on March 16. 4km in 26:54. No stopping! All running! NO FFS.

There was people there from every walk of life and it was one of the most inspiring things I've seen. As we were leaving about 90 minutes after we began, the last of the 4km walk/run were finishing. There was a young man in a walking frame with his two carers/parents. We cheered SO hard for him and he was SO excited to finish. He was closely followed by another disabled woman with her carer. It was so humbling and amazing. NO FFS.

M & P spend most mornings mimicking my stretches. It's so sweet and cracks us both up. M also tries to do push ups with Mr S - and she's got some amazing strength. I can't believe how bendy and strong toddlers are. NO FFS.

I never want to hear anyone tell me how hard exercise is. FFS.

I know I've been guilty of it of complaining about how hard it is for many years of my life, but I eat humble pie now. I find it very hard to make small talk with people who see my running gear and tell me 'I'd love to run, it's just so hard.' FFS.

As the mighty Sarah says 'JFDI'. Of COURSE it's not pleasant, but the gains absolutely outweigh the pain. Trust me. NO FFS.

L and I did an easy 3km run on Wednesday morning. We keep meaning to run further, but after we drop our kids at daycare and have a child free coffee... time slips away and L needs to go to work. FFS.

I came home after our run on Wednesday and 'cross trained' for an hour, listening to Another Mother Runner podcasts. NO FFS.

After I'd moved a tonne of wood, the podcast was still going so I did some trail training around my yard for a km. NO FFS.

Two rows deep, 6' high.

I moved the wood from here, up the path in my garden cart.

I was then exhausted. FFS.

Yesterday my sniffle got worse and I felt remarkably queasy all day. Mr S came home at 6pm, I crawled into bed and slept for a bit. I no longer felt queasy but my skin hurt. Ouch! I tossed and turned all night and whilst I'm less achy today I'm still feeling like crap. Was it the mega exercise Wednesday or something lurking that reared it's ugly head. Either way: FFS.

I'm peeved because I really fancied a run tonight. I'm doing the Mother's Day Classic and I need to keep my training up. FFS.

I know one missed one won't break it, but it feels like it. FFS.

I have a little girl to go and snuggle now, I have a feeling the lurgy is about to visit us all. FFS.

Linking up with Move Fuel Love for our weekly download.

FFS Friday - Moving and Not Moving It

  • In the beginning of January, Sewing Mummy BFF and I began walking 5.5km stretches with our prams, as part of the Operation Move #walk400 challenge. We killed it. Then we began to run between the telephone poles on our return leg, and one day I sent a message to Loozie (as she is aptly and gorgeously named by M) 'Hey, there's a fun run in March. What do you think?'
    Now, text explanations are not my strong point. What I meant was 'Hey, there's a fun run in March. They also have an 4km walking leg. What do you think?'
    She replied 'AWESOME. Let's do C25K.'
    Me: '*crickets*'
  • But, with her holding my proverbial hand, I laced up my runners and we began in earnest. NO FFS.
  • I really really really love yogging. I think it's pronounced 'jogging'... where you just run for extended periods of time. NO FFS.
  • My knee pinged one day. FFS.
  • It got better. NO FFS.
  • After a run one day last week my knee pinged again in the supermarket. I almost vomited. FFS.
  • It got better, so we went running again. I ibuprofen'd, heat pack'd and rested as much as one can with two moving toddlers. NO FFS.
  • It got far worse whilst Mr S was away hiking, but I ignored it. FFS.
  • Eventually I had to stop the other day because my ankle was starting to swell. FFS.
  • I went to the chiro physio who make lots of 'hmm' noises and when he asked me 'What on earth did you do to your ankle?' my reply was 'ankle? Say what?'. I have rolled my ankle without knowing (!) and it keeps puffing up. Gross. I also have problems with my IT band in my leg and the rubber band snapping on my other knee is the same problem, just on the other leg. FFS.
  • I've been in a rotten mood this week due to said pain and I'm epically frustrated that I have finally found a sport I love, and I'm unable to participate. FFS.
  • Chiro has suggested (insisted?) that I invest in some new runners. NO FFS.
  • How does one go and get fitted for shoes with two moving wrigglers who love to shop? FFS.
  • The positive from this journey is I've realised how much I love to get out and see my surroundings.

  • I didn't grow up in an athletic household by example. As a kid I played softball, soccer, netball and I used to love cross country running. When I was older and school no longer pushed such programs on us, my activity levels slid. I'm determined that my kids will grow up knowing that we get up in the morning and we stretch, and then we start moving. It doesn't need to be hard core running, but we garden, or play on the grass, go to the park (not my favourite activity by a long shot!) or we get in the pram and go for a walk. NO FFS.
  • I've become obsessed with reading books about running and moving. This fortnight I've read 'Born To Run', Racing Dawn, Run! and I've just started reading samples of 'What I talk about when I talk about running' and 'Eat and Run'. I am in love with my Kindle, still. NO FFS.
  • Talking about inspiration books about moving, what in blazes is the deal with running books geared towards women with titles like 'Running Sucks' & 'Run Yourself Skinny'? I also bought, began reading and put down again a book called 'Onward! The Absolute, No B.S., Raw, Ridiculous Soul-Stirring Truth About Training For Your First Marathon', because it was full of starred out swear words and well, it wasn't that funny. FFS.
  • This is my 'Rocky' theme music for moving:
  • After dinner I often bust out some Katy Perry for us to groove to. M loves 'Roar', and I'm secretly stoked that she can sing some of the words and does champion arm movements in the chorus. She also roars like a dinosaur but I'll take what I can get. I think the video is totally mismatched to the song content, but for your enjoyment..

Also high in my FFS stakes this week are the ongoing saga with Rheem about our heat pump hot water system (TOP TIP: 'Install a Rheem'(tm). No. Don't.) There's plenty more to say about that in time.
For now, I leave you with Beyonce music in your head. Also, go and check out Aprilaah. She's a mate from my hometown who started blogging and FFS-ing. My favourite headline of the week from her? 'STOP PRETENDING IT'S BORING TO BE ALIVE'. 

Linking up with Sarah and HB from Move Fuel Love for FFS Fridays. Dudes, it's time for a new FFS Friday button?
Dear Baby G