I've got a Thermomix now. I use it for 3% cooking dinner, 7% creating pizza dough and 90% making delicious sugary goods.
The other day I purposely made chocolate chip cookies when my son was at school so I wouldn't have to let him lick the bowl. Not because of any concern about this health or the state of his teeth, but because I didn't want to share.
There, I said it.
I am either a terrible or fabulous parent, depending on which camp you're in.
So anywhoo, my Thermie happily mixed up all the ingredients for me and once finished I was happily eating the raw dough. This is so sad, but I even saved a bit of the dough so that once the cookies were in the oven I could have a cup of tea and eat my dough.
Is that weird? It sounds weird now that I'm writing it down, but to me - that's perfectly acceptable behaviour.
A few hours later I was leaving the house to do school pick up when I mentally ran through what I had done that day....feed baby, play with baby, stare at baby obsessively...eat lun......
Hang on a minute.
I had only eaten cookie dough for lunch.
My poor body is busy being awesome, making milk to feed my tiny guy and I repay it by feeding it cookie dough. Although it was a pretty cold day....so milk, cookie dough, cold....my baby effectively had cookie dough ice-cream for lunch. So it's not all bad.
Tuesday 8 July 2014
Thursday 2 August 2012
Eyebrows and Grey Hairs
So, today I went and got my eyebrows waxed at a new place. The girl said she would shape my eyebrows a little better than they were (good news considering they were like giant hairy caterpillars) and make them a little thinner. I have a fringe so even if they were a disaster, who cares? I can't see them.
So she gets to work and once she is done, she invites me to sit up and look in the giant mirror on the wall. As I look she comes to stand behind me so we can scrutinise my eyebrows together. I look at my new brows, then happen to glance at her in the mirror.
We have the same eyebrows.
Like, exactly the same.
Weirdly, we did kind of look like each other so I'm trying to figure out if she does this to everyone, or just the people that look like her. Am I wrong for thinking she might be trying to start some sort of eyebrow movement?
They're very nice eyebrows by the way, so if she is trying to recruit us all to become an eyebrow army then she's definitely going about it the right way.
I don't get many beauty treatments done - and that includes getting my hair dyed. Or in my case, not getting my hair dyed. Even though I really should as I am getting lots of greys now. And I probably should get my long hair cut in to a "Mum" style but instead I am rebelling and am growing it as long as I can.
Interestingly, I have found that every woman that I tell about my grey hairs has had the same reaction:
Me: "I'm getting grey hair."
Them: "No you're not."
Me: "Yes, I am, I've got heaps."
Them: "Where?!?"
And then I find myself trying to show them the grey hairs.
In public.
Like sweeping a bit of my hair to the side and trying to convince them that I do indeed have grey hair.
This has happened to me more than 5 times. I feel like an idiot, they don't really want to see and we all get left feeling a little embarrassed. Yet I do it every time.
So if I see you and for some reason I randomly offer the information about my grey hair, just go along with it, ok?
One last thing before I go - if you missed it last night, you absolutely HAVE to read this blog. It is actual crying with laughter stuff....just follow the link: http://hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/
So she gets to work and once she is done, she invites me to sit up and look in the giant mirror on the wall. As I look she comes to stand behind me so we can scrutinise my eyebrows together. I look at my new brows, then happen to glance at her in the mirror.
We have the same eyebrows.
Like, exactly the same.
Weirdly, we did kind of look like each other so I'm trying to figure out if she does this to everyone, or just the people that look like her. Am I wrong for thinking she might be trying to start some sort of eyebrow movement?
They're very nice eyebrows by the way, so if she is trying to recruit us all to become an eyebrow army then she's definitely going about it the right way.
I don't get many beauty treatments done - and that includes getting my hair dyed. Or in my case, not getting my hair dyed. Even though I really should as I am getting lots of greys now. And I probably should get my long hair cut in to a "Mum" style but instead I am rebelling and am growing it as long as I can.
Interestingly, I have found that every woman that I tell about my grey hairs has had the same reaction:
Me: "I'm getting grey hair."
Them: "No you're not."
Me: "Yes, I am, I've got heaps."
Them: "Where?!?"
And then I find myself trying to show them the grey hairs.
In public.
Like sweeping a bit of my hair to the side and trying to convince them that I do indeed have grey hair.
This has happened to me more than 5 times. I feel like an idiot, they don't really want to see and we all get left feeling a little embarrassed. Yet I do it every time.
So if I see you and for some reason I randomly offer the information about my grey hair, just go along with it, ok?
One last thing before I go - if you missed it last night, you absolutely HAVE to read this blog. It is actual crying with laughter stuff....just follow the link: http://hahasforhoohas.com/the-fart-that-almost-altered-my-destiny/
Saturday 12 May 2012
The Vague Diaries
Now, I don't know if it was indicative of the hair length and wooly wildness....but when I went to shave my underarms the other day, I accidentally grabbed my hair brush instead.
Yup.
And I didn't even notice until I actually put the hairbrush up against my skin. At which stage Mr Yumminess probably thought I was crying uncontrollably in the shower (again) but I was killing myself laughing (again).
Please tell me I'm not the only absentminded Mummy out there....actually I know I'm not. I know you're out there, walking around your house trying to find that thing that you had in your hand only TWO MINUTES AGO!
Like a lot of other Mum's, I am a multi-tasker. One of my favourite tricks is to tuck my mobile phone into my bra while it's on speakerphone. That way I can carry out the multitude of things I should be doing when what I really want to do is sit down on the couch for a good chat.
A few months ago, I was using this trick while getting ready to go to a friends house. Around I went, packing Alby's bag, getting snacks ready, all the while talking to my Mum from my brassiere. I got to the crucial part where I have everything ready, he is dressed and shod and standing at the door. I grabbed my bag, checked that everything was in there...but do you think I could find my mobile? I stalked around the house rifling through everything, grumbling to Mum that "this always happens".
Oh yeah. I was complaining to my Mum....on my phone.....that I couldn't find my phone. And because she is also a multi-tasking Mum, she was busy whipping up a 5 course meal at the same time so it didn't occur to her that my phone was actually in my bra. And that I was talking to her on it.
I have to laugh at myself because things like this happen to me all the time. Like, the daily key dilemma. I do not have a place to leave the keys every time I walk through the door. This is because there are so many different scenarios that can happen upon re-entering the house.
Scenario 1: We arrive home and child is busting for a wee. I THROW open the door and run him towards the loo. Later, when looking for the keys while yelling "WHO TOOK THE KEYS?!?!", I find them still dangling in the door lock....on the outside....just asking for robbers to take them.
Scenario 2: I arrive home after dropping Child at childcare with packages of fabric just picked up from the post office. The keys are SO insignificant when faced with such bundles of amazingness that they just get dropped somewhere along the way to my sewing room. Again, later I can be found yelling "WHO TOOK THE KEYS?!?!" (never mind that it was me at home all day by myself working) until I find them in a shoe in the front hall. In a shoe?! I'll blame that one on fabric psychosis.
Scenario 3: I arrive home and place the keys in my bag. Huh. Yeah. You bet. I'll never forget where they are! Upon wanting to leave the house again, I can be found yelling "WHO TOOK THE KEYS?!?!" while checking the normal places...you know, outside in the front door, inside shoes, in the fridge, in the bin. I even look in my bag and miss them because of the usual debris that fills my bag. And when I find them eventually, I'm not happy. I'm annoyed at the keys for hiding from me.
I've never claimed to be rational.
Now, where the hell is my phone?
P.s. I just googled "Multi-tasking Mom" <-- I thought I would get better pictures with an American "Mom" and these were my favourites that came up:
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Dear Blog...
Dear Blog,
I know you're angry with me. I know I've neglected you. I know I promised you daily photos in a "Reasons to be Cheerful" photo challenge. And I know I let you down.
And yes, I have been avoiding you. Oh yes, I hear you nagging me in the background but I've been pretending I can't hear you.
And I'm sorry.
I hope you'll forgive me - I want us to start again where we left off. Well, not exactly - as if I have the commitment to do a photo a day. I got caght up in the hype and yes, I should have known better.
Things that have happened while we have been parted:
1.) I saw someone eating a chico roll. Did you even know they made them any more? I didn't. I don't think I've ever eaten one. I'll put it on my to do list.
2.) I drove behind a car with the number plate "SCROTE".
**Side note - I have saved this photo in my computer as Scrote.jpg in the hope that someone finds it and thinks they've found some dirt on me, only to be severely disappointed that it's just a picture of a number plate**
3.) Twice I got dressed in my gym clothes, never made it to the gym but still picked Alby up from child care in said attire and allowed people to believe I had been at the gym, not eating easter eggs and drinking coffee.
4.) I have developed a serious addiction to handmade dolls. I do not have a daughter - they're for me. I know that should feel sad and weird...but it feels kinda good.
5.) I taught Alby to vacuum (vaccum? vacume? How on earth do you spell that?) but he has one upped me and instead of vacuuming the dirt and sand from the dogs, he does this with paper and then sucks it up.
I'd say that's one point to Alby, wouldn't you?
6.) I have grown a lot more grey hairs. I'm not saying that in a cutesy, "Oh...I'm so stressed that I have grey hairs" kind of way. I literally have a team of them moving in and taking over. So as an act of rebellion I am going to grow my hair as long as I can and enjoy what time I have left with my non dyed hair before I have to have it cut into the pre-requisite "Mum" haircut that needs to be dyed every 6 weeks. I can't even remember to check if my eyebrows aren't sprouting in 10 different directions every morning, I don't know how I'm going to keep up the maintenance of my hair.
Incidentally - why are all the greys growing behind my ears and on the crown of my head? And why is there always one sticking out of my head on a 90 degree angle?
7.) Alby now goes to childcare 3 days a week so I can work more. The intention was that this would mean I wouldn't have to work at night. I forgot that I am an insane person who actually enjoys working at night and can operate on a small amount of sleep. Actually, one thing it has meant is that my work days feel a lot less pressure filled. I even managed to sit and watch TV for half an hour on my lunch break. I'm serious when I say that is an achievement!
8.) We got a new puppy, Audrey. She is so pretty and so cute and has really good manners. And last night at our last puppy class, the teacher pulled me aside and said that Audrey was her favourite, even though she wasn't allowed to have favourites and that she wished Audrey was her dog. I was so puffed up with pride that I just about floated out the door. Proud Doggy Mama moment
9.) Contrary to the above photo which was taken weeks ago - Alby's dummy is GONE! Just shy of 3 years old and we are "Nummy" free and loving it.
10.) This isn't new news but I want to talk about it so we will pretend. Just quietly - I LOVE that you can watch TV episodes online now. I watch them while I sew and I am totally addicted to Biggest Loser, Bondi Rescue, Revenge and Home and Away just to name a few. Just while we're on the subject of H&A.....omg if Leah and Brax get together I am going to scream. There's no chemistry there at all and doesn't she respect Charlie's memory? Imagine how Ruby would feel!? And seriously April.....just stop it. Ok? Just stop.
*Ahem*
Sorry about that. Does anyone else actually talk like that about H&A? I'm not ashamed to admit that I do. Yeah, that's right - I pretend that they're my friends because no one else is, so don't judge me baby. It's just me and my sewing machine and me old re-runs on the intraweb and me yelling at the screen, ok?
And, we JUST officially hit rambledom.
Interestingly, my urge to write a blog post has coincided with me needing to do the BAS statement for mine and my man's businesses. Transparent? Moi?
With that, I shall bid you adieu.
Basically what I am trying to say, dear Blog, is that I missed you and I want you back in my life and I hope you'll have me back. And that you'll forgive me in advance if I don't write again for another 2 months. I'm busy, you know - I've got clothes to sew!!
I know you're angry with me. I know I've neglected you. I know I promised you daily photos in a "Reasons to be Cheerful" photo challenge. And I know I let you down.
And yes, I have been avoiding you. Oh yes, I hear you nagging me in the background but I've been pretending I can't hear you.
And I'm sorry.
I hope you'll forgive me - I want us to start again where we left off. Well, not exactly - as if I have the commitment to do a photo a day. I got caght up in the hype and yes, I should have known better.
Things that have happened while we have been parted:
1.) I saw someone eating a chico roll. Did you even know they made them any more? I didn't. I don't think I've ever eaten one. I'll put it on my to do list.
2.) I drove behind a car with the number plate "SCROTE".
3.) Twice I got dressed in my gym clothes, never made it to the gym but still picked Alby up from child care in said attire and allowed people to believe I had been at the gym, not eating easter eggs and drinking coffee.
4.) I have developed a serious addiction to handmade dolls. I do not have a daughter - they're for me. I know that should feel sad and weird...but it feels kinda good.
5.) I taught Alby to vacuum (vaccum? vacume? How on earth do you spell that?) but he has one upped me and instead of vacuuming the dirt and sand from the dogs, he does this with paper and then sucks it up.
I'd say that's one point to Alby, wouldn't you?
6.) I have grown a lot more grey hairs. I'm not saying that in a cutesy, "Oh...I'm so stressed that I have grey hairs" kind of way. I literally have a team of them moving in and taking over. So as an act of rebellion I am going to grow my hair as long as I can and enjoy what time I have left with my non dyed hair before I have to have it cut into the pre-requisite "Mum" haircut that needs to be dyed every 6 weeks. I can't even remember to check if my eyebrows aren't sprouting in 10 different directions every morning, I don't know how I'm going to keep up the maintenance of my hair.
Incidentally - why are all the greys growing behind my ears and on the crown of my head? And why is there always one sticking out of my head on a 90 degree angle?
7.) Alby now goes to childcare 3 days a week so I can work more. The intention was that this would mean I wouldn't have to work at night. I forgot that I am an insane person who actually enjoys working at night and can operate on a small amount of sleep. Actually, one thing it has meant is that my work days feel a lot less pressure filled. I even managed to sit and watch TV for half an hour on my lunch break. I'm serious when I say that is an achievement!
8.) We got a new puppy, Audrey. She is so pretty and so cute and has really good manners. And last night at our last puppy class, the teacher pulled me aside and said that Audrey was her favourite, even though she wasn't allowed to have favourites and that she wished Audrey was her dog. I was so puffed up with pride that I just about floated out the door. Proud Doggy Mama moment
9.) Contrary to the above photo which was taken weeks ago - Alby's dummy is GONE! Just shy of 3 years old and we are "Nummy" free and loving it.
10.) This isn't new news but I want to talk about it so we will pretend. Just quietly - I LOVE that you can watch TV episodes online now. I watch them while I sew and I am totally addicted to Biggest Loser, Bondi Rescue, Revenge and Home and Away just to name a few. Just while we're on the subject of H&A.....omg if Leah and Brax get together I am going to scream. There's no chemistry there at all and doesn't she respect Charlie's memory? Imagine how Ruby would feel!? And seriously April.....just stop it. Ok? Just stop.
*Ahem*
Sorry about that. Does anyone else actually talk like that about H&A? I'm not ashamed to admit that I do. Yeah, that's right - I pretend that they're my friends because no one else is, so don't judge me baby. It's just me and my sewing machine and me old re-runs on the intraweb and me yelling at the screen, ok?
And, we JUST officially hit rambledom.
Interestingly, my urge to write a blog post has coincided with me needing to do the BAS statement for mine and my man's businesses. Transparent? Moi?
With that, I shall bid you adieu.
Basically what I am trying to say, dear Blog, is that I missed you and I want you back in my life and I hope you'll have me back. And that you'll forgive me in advance if I don't write again for another 2 months. I'm busy, you know - I've got clothes to sew!!
Saturday 12 November 2011
A love lost...
It is no secret that I love my sewing machine and overlocker. My first ever blog here was about my love affair with my sewing machine. The poor thing gets an absolute hammering and never lets me down.
Well.....until now.
It has been making a weird noise that I know is just because it needs a little tinkering and a bit of a break from me. Every couple needs some time apart sometimes, right?
So it was with a heavy heart that I packed it lovingly back in to its original box (I am one of those sad people that keeps all of the foam packing and packs it back exactly the same way it came to take it anywhere. Yet, there are a pair of dirty shorts on the floor of my laundry that I have managed to ignore and step over every single time I need to use the loo for the last week. I am the weirdest mix of fastidious and slovenly....but that's a story for another day.
I also packed up my overlocker. I don't know why, but I don't feel as maternal towards my overlocker. It seems so capable - like it doesn't need me to look after it as much. Maybe it's the blade? It's got it's own weapon - it's fine! They were loaded in the back of the car and driven to their maker - the Janome shop.
I handed them over and was told by the lady they would be ready in 7-10 days. My son was with me and has cottoned on to the fact that there is a Toy World in the same row of shops so I was being dragged there by a persistant 2 year old.
It wasn't until I got in the car to drive home that I really thought about what she said.
S-E-V-E-N to T-E-N DAYS!?!?!?!
Is she mental?!?
Didn't she see the way she had to prise the boxes from my hands?
Seven to 10 DAYS???????? Not minutes? Even hours I could manage but DAYS?!?!
WHY had I agreed to this? What possesed me to think this was ok??
Once I arrived home, I couldn't settle. Everything was annoying me. Luckily Mr Yumminess was home so he hustled Master Yumminess out for some nude paddle pooling (just Master was in the nude - we totally have Wilson from Home Improvement as a neighbour - those eyes would have bugging out had Mr Y been taking party in the nudie pooling!) while I listlessly dragged myself around the house.
Soon it was time for Master Y's lunch sleep time. I was about to read him his story when I was struck by an all encompasing urge.
I had to go back and get my machines.
I can't go for 7-10 days. That is absolutely ridiculous. Who do they think they ARE keeping my machine HOSTAGE for 7-10 days?!
(I'm not kidding you - I was really being this dramatic inside my head)
I marched outside to see Mr Yumminess, who was up on the roof doing something manly.
"Honey! I think I have to go back and get my machines!"
He paused mid nail gun firing...."What?!"
"I HAVE to go back and GET MY MACHINES! They said it will take seven to ten days!!!"
And I kid you not, this is why I love that man....he actually looked horrified and said "Oh no, you can't have that!" and he was deadly serious. This is a man who if you try to speak about feeling turns in to a robot with a stiff neck who can't look you in the eye - but my god, the man is a tradie - he gets my love of my tools.
Seriously, the theme from Chariots of Fire started playing....I hand-balled the book reading to Mr Y, I grabbed my keys and I jumped in my car to make the dash back to the shop. They closed at 2pm - it was 1.15pm - it was a half an hour trip. I HAD to make it - tomorrow was Sunday....I couldn't wait - I wouldn't wait!!! Who CARED that my machine had been making a weird noise? We would overcome it together!!!
About 4 metres down the road, some common sense kicked in and I thought to call them. I'd better let them know what I thought of their dastardly plan and that was coming to break my babies free!
The lady answered and I started talking (in what I recognise now as a maniacal way)....she cut me off and said pleasantly.
"Oh, we can have them done by Monday afternoon - you just have to pay an extra $20. Didn't we tell you that when you dropped them off?"
*ahem*
I was back in time to kiss my boy before he went to sleep.
Somewhat sheepishly.
I LOVE them, ok??!?!
Well.....until now.
It has been making a weird noise that I know is just because it needs a little tinkering and a bit of a break from me. Every couple needs some time apart sometimes, right?
So it was with a heavy heart that I packed it lovingly back in to its original box (I am one of those sad people that keeps all of the foam packing and packs it back exactly the same way it came to take it anywhere. Yet, there are a pair of dirty shorts on the floor of my laundry that I have managed to ignore and step over every single time I need to use the loo for the last week. I am the weirdest mix of fastidious and slovenly....but that's a story for another day.
I also packed up my overlocker. I don't know why, but I don't feel as maternal towards my overlocker. It seems so capable - like it doesn't need me to look after it as much. Maybe it's the blade? It's got it's own weapon - it's fine! They were loaded in the back of the car and driven to their maker - the Janome shop.
I handed them over and was told by the lady they would be ready in 7-10 days. My son was with me and has cottoned on to the fact that there is a Toy World in the same row of shops so I was being dragged there by a persistant 2 year old.
It wasn't until I got in the car to drive home that I really thought about what she said.
S-E-V-E-N to T-E-N DAYS!?!?!?!
Is she mental?!?
Didn't she see the way she had to prise the boxes from my hands?
Seven to 10 DAYS???????? Not minutes? Even hours I could manage but DAYS?!?!
WHY had I agreed to this? What possesed me to think this was ok??
Once I arrived home, I couldn't settle. Everything was annoying me. Luckily Mr Yumminess was home so he hustled Master Yumminess out for some nude paddle pooling (just Master was in the nude - we totally have Wilson from Home Improvement as a neighbour - those eyes would have bugging out had Mr Y been taking party in the nudie pooling!) while I listlessly dragged myself around the house.
Soon it was time for Master Y's lunch sleep time. I was about to read him his story when I was struck by an all encompasing urge.
I had to go back and get my machines.
I can't go for 7-10 days. That is absolutely ridiculous. Who do they think they ARE keeping my machine HOSTAGE for 7-10 days?!
(I'm not kidding you - I was really being this dramatic inside my head)
I marched outside to see Mr Yumminess, who was up on the roof doing something manly.
"Honey! I think I have to go back and get my machines!"
He paused mid nail gun firing...."What?!"
"I HAVE to go back and GET MY MACHINES! They said it will take seven to ten days!!!"
And I kid you not, this is why I love that man....he actually looked horrified and said "Oh no, you can't have that!" and he was deadly serious. This is a man who if you try to speak about feeling turns in to a robot with a stiff neck who can't look you in the eye - but my god, the man is a tradie - he gets my love of my tools.
Seriously, the theme from Chariots of Fire started playing....I hand-balled the book reading to Mr Y, I grabbed my keys and I jumped in my car to make the dash back to the shop. They closed at 2pm - it was 1.15pm - it was a half an hour trip. I HAD to make it - tomorrow was Sunday....I couldn't wait - I wouldn't wait!!! Who CARED that my machine had been making a weird noise? We would overcome it together!!!
About 4 metres down the road, some common sense kicked in and I thought to call them. I'd better let them know what I thought of their dastardly plan and that was coming to break my babies free!
The lady answered and I started talking (in what I recognise now as a maniacal way)....she cut me off and said pleasantly.
"Oh, we can have them done by Monday afternoon - you just have to pay an extra $20. Didn't we tell you that when you dropped them off?"
*ahem*
I was back in time to kiss my boy before he went to sleep.
Somewhat sheepishly.
I LOVE them, ok??!?!
Wednesday 26 October 2011
A sugar.....low?!
Every Friday night we have junk food night. I looooove junk food night - not only do I not have to cook but very unfashionably - I LOVE junk food. The evening in question was KFC night.
I will not go in to details but I will not be eatng KFC for a verrrry long time.
If ever.
Needless to say, after a night of vomiting, I was in a bad way the next morning. Mr Yumminess had to work so it was me and Alby at home. He was playing happily so I snuck off to bed and had a bit of a snooze.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Can I just remind you of the expression my child wears about 99% of the time??
So there I am snoozing and in comes my angel.
"Mummy?" he whispers "Cook you eggs."
I peel open an eye to see him holding an egg carton.
"Ohhh how sweet...", I think, as he hands them to me, "...even if the thought of eggs is enough to send me over the edge again."
Something sprinkles out of the carton.
It is then that I look at his face. Which is covered in fine white granules. Sugar.
That's when I look at the floor - my eyes following a trail of sugar leading out of my bedroom.
Oh god.
I get out of bed and crawl....yes crawl because I am still feeling so ill and lightheaded that I can't walk, out of the room....following my very own white brick road through the kitchen and in to the playroom where I find a whole 2kg container of caster sugar upended and mixed with ALL of his toys!!!!!
"Yay?" he tries.
"Not yay" says me.
I get myself to the laundry (after much head holding and head shaking and a fair bit of tutting), get the vaccum and start the cleanup - all of this is achieved without standing up for fear of fainting. It's funny now - at the time, not so much.
No one told me that you can't suck that much sugar up all at once.
In fact, I didn't find that out until the fire alarm went off and I realised that the sugar was not only spontaneously combusting inside the vaccum cleaner but it was coming out the back of the vaccum in a FINE WHITE SUGARY MIST! Conveniently covering the entire kitchen in a sticky dust.
So I did what any self respecting Mum would do.
I went and laid back down in bed.
Couldn't get any worse now, could it?
I will not go in to details but I will not be eatng KFC for a verrrry long time.
If ever.
Needless to say, after a night of vomiting, I was in a bad way the next morning. Mr Yumminess had to work so it was me and Alby at home. He was playing happily so I snuck off to bed and had a bit of a snooze.
Big mistake.
Huge.
Can I just remind you of the expression my child wears about 99% of the time??
So there I am snoozing and in comes my angel.
"Mummy?" he whispers "Cook you eggs."
I peel open an eye to see him holding an egg carton.
"Ohhh how sweet...", I think, as he hands them to me, "...even if the thought of eggs is enough to send me over the edge again."
Something sprinkles out of the carton.
It is then that I look at his face. Which is covered in fine white granules. Sugar.
That's when I look at the floor - my eyes following a trail of sugar leading out of my bedroom.
Oh god.
I get out of bed and crawl....yes crawl because I am still feeling so ill and lightheaded that I can't walk, out of the room....following my very own white brick road through the kitchen and in to the playroom where I find a whole 2kg container of caster sugar upended and mixed with ALL of his toys!!!!!
"Yay?" he tries.
"Not yay" says me.
I get myself to the laundry (after much head holding and head shaking and a fair bit of tutting), get the vaccum and start the cleanup - all of this is achieved without standing up for fear of fainting. It's funny now - at the time, not so much.
No one told me that you can't suck that much sugar up all at once.
In fact, I didn't find that out until the fire alarm went off and I realised that the sugar was not only spontaneously combusting inside the vaccum cleaner but it was coming out the back of the vaccum in a FINE WHITE SUGARY MIST! Conveniently covering the entire kitchen in a sticky dust.
So I did what any self respecting Mum would do.
I went and laid back down in bed.
Couldn't get any worse now, could it?
Saturday 3 September 2011
In the new house!
So Mr Yumminess and I bought a new house without seeing the whole thing. Yup.....that's right. One might call us impulsive, others might call us crazy....who cares, as long as they call us! Boom boom ching!
*Ahem*
So basically, I saw this.....
And passed out on the carpet from excitement!
We are finally now able to see the house properly and thankfully, we don't regret it. We think it was built in around about the 1950's with lashings of charm. Lashings! I sound like Enid Blyton!
I'm going to be a completely different person in this house! The sort of person who has moulded cornices! I'll be one of those people who picks up bargains at flea markets, restores them to their glory and then nonchalantly matches eclectic nic naks to them.
I'll be one of those people who will have a fire every night. Even when it's 40 degrees. Because I can!
I'll wear one of those 50's pinnies and cook at the stove with no shoes on! I'll wear those cool headbands like Sadie the Cleaning lady does!
In my current house, I have 4 cupboards in the kitchen. Yes.....FOUR! In the new place I have like, 200 or so.
Not really - but damn it feels like it!
In the new house I'm going to be one of those people who has everything labelled in Tupperware containers. I'm going to start having dinner parties! I'm going to tastefully renovate the kitchen using only secondhand re purposed timber, lovingly sanding it back by hand and sealing it with high gloss lacquer. I'll be one of those people who never gets impatient and touches the paint before it dries or who buys a flat pak kitchen from IKEA. I won't ever get distracted by my......
SEWING ROOM!
It's dinky, it's dirty, it's dank and it's delightfully ALL MINE! I have big plans for you my little space!
Oh hang on - other way around.
Did I tell you that Mr Yumminess is in the flooring biz? Very handy at times like this! For anyone who knows anything about timber flooring - he has to punch EVERY. SINGLE. NAIL.
In the whole house.
I offered to help and he laughed.
I was offended.
Until I saw what it actually entailed.
And then I rejoiced.
Then I felt bad because he had to do it.
Then I was excited because I was dispatched to Spotlight to get blinds.
First (and I dare say last) time I have ever been to Spotters without buying fabric but my child was maiming various people with a plastic stick he got somehow and then pulled the whole display of stapler thingys over.
His punishment....
And this is us......happily ever after....
*Ahem*
So basically, I saw this.....
And passed out on the carpet from excitement!
We are finally now able to see the house properly and thankfully, we don't regret it. We think it was built in around about the 1950's with lashings of charm. Lashings! I sound like Enid Blyton!
I'm going to be a completely different person in this house! The sort of person who has moulded cornices! I'll be one of those people who picks up bargains at flea markets, restores them to their glory and then nonchalantly matches eclectic nic naks to them.
I'll be one of those people who will have a fire every night. Even when it's 40 degrees. Because I can!
I'll wear one of those 50's pinnies and cook at the stove with no shoes on! I'll wear those cool headbands like Sadie the Cleaning lady does!
Incidentally - how freaking COOL is this cooking area? These tiles literally make me swoon...
Mr Yumminess doesn't like them.
He is a looper.
Alby thinks all his Christmases have come at once :)
In my current house, I have 4 cupboards in the kitchen. Yes.....FOUR! In the new place I have like, 200 or so.
Not really - but damn it feels like it!
In the new house I'm going to be one of those people who has everything labelled in Tupperware containers. I'm going to start having dinner parties! I'm going to tastefully renovate the kitchen using only secondhand re purposed timber, lovingly sanding it back by hand and sealing it with high gloss lacquer. I'll be one of those people who never gets impatient and touches the paint before it dries or who buys a flat pak kitchen from IKEA. I won't ever get distracted by my......
SEWING ROOM!
It's dinky, it's dirty, it's dank and it's delightfully ALL MINE! I have big plans for you my little space!
I ripped these up with my bare hands. Mr Yumminess just stood around giving me unhelpful tips and generally getting in the way.
Did I tell you that Mr Yumminess is in the flooring biz? Very handy at times like this! For anyone who knows anything about timber flooring - he has to punch EVERY. SINGLE. NAIL.
In the whole house.
I offered to help and he laughed.
I was offended.
Until I saw what it actually entailed.
And then I rejoiced.
Then I felt bad because he had to do it.
Then I was excited because I was dispatched to Spotlight to get blinds.
First (and I dare say last) time I have ever been to Spotters without buying fabric but my child was maiming various people with a plastic stick he got somehow and then pulled the whole display of stapler thingys over.
His punishment....
And this is us......happily ever after....
Until we kill each other over various renovation disagreements.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
