No Cupcakes for Mumma

Kids need discipline. That’s a no-brainer. They need boundaries, and they need consequences.

The trouble with this though, is when you have to follow up a threat. And, miss out yourself. It’s one of the hardest decisions to make as a parent.

All the parenting experts tell you to make “realistic” threats so you can see them through if needs be. But what they don’t mention is that sometimes the thing taken away from them, punishes Mum as well.

I remember the first time I properly followed through with a threat. Princess was two and BoyChild was one. They were both behaving absolutely rotten and we were going to McDonalds for a playdate. I threatened numerous times that if that did. not. behave. NOW. that I wouldn’t go out. And, they didn’t behave. They were actually both buckled into their carseats in the car and Princess did something that pushed me over the edge (I actually don’t remember exactly what) and I said, “RIGHT. THAT IS IT! We are NOT going!”. And we didn’t.

I remember this day well, because I had to wrangle two screaming kids from the car, back inside, then sit there with my instant coffee, feeling sorry for myself because I had missed out on a coffee out in a public place, with other people. I probably scowled at the kids while they wailed, to be honest. And mumbled to myself, “It’s not FAIR. Why do I have to MISS OUT. NOT FAIR. Hrumph”.

Which brings me to today.

Princess wanted to make cupcakes and I thought that was a fair request. We had to find a recipe that was wheat-free (for me) and dairy-free (for BabyGirl) so we sat down with the iPad and googled recipes. Princess was getting more and more excited, which, combined with her tired state, quickly merged into more and more restless and yell-y.

I gave her fair warning that she needed to calm down or we wouldn’t bake cupcakes.

Recipe found, I went into the kitchen to quite a sight. She had moved the dining room table chair into the pantry room and was wrecking all kinds of havoc “getting ingredients”. I asked her to please put the chair back and tidy up the spilled food before we would bake.


I asked her again.


I calmly said we would not bake until she did what I had asked.

And, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Tired Five Year Old: The Breakdown.

“NO! I’m NOT going to do what YOU tell me to do! I am TIRED of LISTENING to you and your DUMB things. I will NOT do what you say. I want to BAKE and that is IT and that is all I’m going to DOOOOOOOOOOO!! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Right-o then. I was surprisingly calm with my response, though I’m a little ashamed to admit the term, “hakuna your tatas” might have slipped past my lips.

End game. No more baking tonight.

She cried for, oh, a decent half hour. She pleaded, and apologised, and eventually cleaned up her mess. But it was just too late by then, I was already starting on dinner and there just wasn’t time to bake (plus, I’m no fool – baking with her in such a tender mood really was recipe for disaster).

But, now I don’t get cupcakes tonight. I had really started to drool over those recipes and could practically taste the cupcake. I mean, how great would it have been to settle down to an episode of Orange is the New Black when the kids were in bed, with a delicious, hot cupcake. Oh, me. Sigh.

I was really, really tempted to relent and say, oh stuff it, lets make ’em. But, what would that achieve in the long run? She needs to learn.

I’m not convinced at all. I’m just mourning the cupcakes I won’t get tonight. I could bake them myself, but with following through with threats come following through with promises. And I did assure her we would do it tomorrow. So, I guess I have to wait until then.

Dag nammit. I want a cupcake.



Let’s Go Driving In The Car-Car …

My Mum and Step-Dad, my Aunty and my in-laws all live a 4 hour drive from our house. It’s handy that they all live in the same city, but the travel is a bit of a hassle sometimes. However, we try to make the trip at least once every month or two if we can.

In fact, Princess was a mere 5 days old (and not even at her due date yet!) the first time we made the trip with kids. I know, right?! Insane. What the heck were we thinking? Actually, I know exactly what we were thinking – babies aren’t that big of a deal. She’s a baby, it’ll be easy. Boy, I wish we’d taken a photo of our car for that trip. For two adults and one newborn, we wouldn’t have fitted another person in our roomy, 5-seater hatchback. It was so full. We took absolutely everything we could possibly need on that trip.

Change mat. Baby bath. Baby bath support. Baby bath thermometer. Bassinet. Bassinet stand. Outfits for every season possible. Nappies. Nappies. Nappies. We were away for four days.

We have come a long way from that first trip, we have the packing down to a bare minimum – one small suitcase each. Of course, with three kids, it’s the only real option.

And so, this weekend, we packed up the car and headed off on a fun filled, 4 hour drive north. Only, I think the kids missed the “fun filled” part of the memo.

Now, BoyChild is recently toilet trained. So, this was our first trip with two kids out of nappies (and, of course, one in nappies). But really, how hard can it be? She laughs.

BabyGirl fell asleep almost instantly when we got in the car – you see, that is trick number one to a successful long car ride – timing. It was dead on her nap time, so she will easily sleep well.

With the kids music blaring and BabyGirl happily snoring, we drove for a short while in peaceful bliss. A very short while.

“MUM! I need to go to the toilet!”

Stop the car at the closest public toilet. “Who else needs to go??”

Take both kids in, business done, back on the road.

“DAD! I need to go to the TOILET!” Seriously? You literally just went.

One hour down, we stop at McDonalds because the kids are restless, BabyGirl is crying, BoyChild is playing I-Spy but, according to Princess, is “DOING IT ALL WRONG”.

Nice lunch, and back on the road.

15 minutes later, as far away from any public toilets as we could be.


“Ok, just hold on, won’t be long”.

“Need go weeeeees now, Mummy. NOW.”

Pull over on the side of the road.

“No wees, Mummy – poos. Need do poos.”.

Crap. Literally. Crap. I grab the wipes and wait, cringing.

“No poos, Mum. Just wees.”

Get back into the car.

I’m sure that by now, you get the idea.

I’m pretty confident that, during our 4 hour drive, we stopped no less than 25 times. Each child swore they didn’t need to pee, then did. BoyChild did wees roadside, so Princess wanted to as well. Princess went into the toilet that talked to you (oh yes, we frequented even the fanciest of public loos) so BoyChild wanted to. I drew the line, however, at stopping at the public loo who charge 20c a go. That’s just ludicrous. Loo-dicrous (see what I did there?). And, poor old BabyGirl. By the end of the trip, I’m sure she was saying, “WEEEES!! POOOS!!” as well.

We arrived safely, albeit exhausted (well, speaking for Mr T and I in particular!). And, the first thing the kids said when we arrived at the in-laws?


Next time, I think I might fly.





Oh, dear lord, help me.

Princess got kissed at school. By a boy.


This was NOT supposed to happen, not yet, anyway! I mean, besides the fact that, when I was four, I was schooling my older sister (and anyone else who would listen) about the *ahem* birds and the bees. Mum isn’t entirely sure how I found out, but I don’t remember ever not knowing. I didn’t know all the technicalities, of course, but I sure understood that babies were made from a man and a lady, and something to do with a limousine and a garage.

Princess was only 18 months old when BoyChild was born, and was three-and-a-half when BabyGirl was born, so we have had ample opportunity to expose her to whole business around babies and conception and the like, and we definitely adopt an “honesty is best” mantra with our kids.

And, I am ashamed to admit, the first time Princess asked me, “Mum – how are babies made?”, I giggled. And then realised she was serious. And giggled again. She didn’t have to tell me to grow up, her eyes said it for her. I went into a stumbled answer about men having sperm and women having eggs, and the two combining to make a baby that grows in Mummy’s tummy, that then comes out, either through the vagina or cut through the stomach.

She had a few ‘follow-up’ questions.

“Do I have an egg in my tummy???” Yes, it’s very, very, very, very tiny though.

“Does Daddy have sperms then?” Yes.

“I’m never going to have a baby”. Ok.

And that was that. No further discussion, just a shrug of the shoulders and she was off playing a new game. I mean, aside from the time she informed my friend, relatively loudly, that babies were made with SPERMS and EGGS and IN MUMMYS TUMMY, she has been relatively okay about the whole deal.

And then, she started school.

I don’t want to blame the boys in her class entirely, but my beautiful, lady like Princess has turned into a right little potty mouth. Everything is “poo” this and “bum bum” that, “farty face” and “poos and wees bum bum big fat farty poo poo mouth head”.

Again, I shouldn’t be surprised. I was anything but ladylike as a young girl. And even now, I like a good rude joke as much as the next person, but there is something else when it is your little girl. Your Princess.

Don’t worry – Mr T has already threatened to go down to the school yard in the lunch break to “sort those boys out”, but we both know that *sigh* there is nothing we can do. It’s innocent, it’s about growth, and it’s perfectly normal.

I only hope she keeps her “boys are gross” thing a bit longer than I did. Six is FAR too young for a first boyfriend. My poor mother.


The Modern Coffee Group


I am part of a wonderful coffee group. I feel so lucky to have stumbled upon this group of fantastic parents – because, for a long time, I wasn’t part of any coffee group or anything. Not for lack of trying – I even tried to set up my own “playgroup” at my house, inviting every stay-at-home parent I could find. It worked well for the first week or two but really, the random mish mash of people never really “gelled”.

Which is kind of funny, if you were to see our coffee group now. We really are, I believe, the epitome of the “modern” coffee group. The coffee group of the 2000’s. Sounds pretty neat, really! And it is. It’s awesome.

So, who would you find, at one of our random coffee “outings”?


There are a few of Stay At Home Mum’s in our group. Some of us work one day a week, some work two days a week, some (me!) work random, casual work. But essentially, we are stay at home, primary carers of our kids.

The Working Mum

We have one of these. She can’t come to a lot of the coffee outings, but she comes when she can, and she loves it. And we love her, of course!

The Young, First Time Mum

She has a little bubba and is new to this parenting gig. So, the poor thing has to endure endless tales of what she has to look forward to in years to come. Poor lass.

The Solo Dad

Yes, he is a dad. He is also the primary carer for his kids and he is wonderful at it. And, we welcomed him with open arms. Because, when we formed this coffee group, we vowed that we would not be exclusive – any one was welcome. Sure, we have to tone down the “lady” talk when he is around, but give it time. It’s hard work being a single parent, and I think it’s just that little bit harder being a single Dad. Everything is set up for women. And, we learned that he was too shy to approach women to ask for playdates for his daughter, for fear of being judged or treated like a predator.

The Nan

She is 64 and shares care of her grandson with her son, who works full time. She is lovely, even though she doesn’t have “the Facebook”. We won’t hold that against her, she makes a mean sponge cake. And she parties it up like the rest of us, given half the chance!


In our coffee group, there are as many as 10 parents and in excess of 20 children, ranging in age from 7 years to 5 months. And we love it. We meet for coffee at least once a week. We try to get together without kids every month or so, and do really crazy things like play board games (with wine/cider, naturally). And, just last week, (wait for it), we went to Kmart at 9pm. That’s right, you read correctly. We emptied the car of carseats, piled in, and went for a crazy, kid-free, late night shopping trip. Because that’s how we roll.

I consider myself SO lucky to be in a group with such awesome people. We all have different views, different opinions, different strategies, and yet this crazy mish-mash of people just “gel”.