Hello there poppets! / L Plate Mama

Is there a children’s television show that brings back floods of memories of your childhood? Do you remember romping around the garden or playground pretending to be your favourite character? There is something wondrous and magical about good quality kids tv. After my son has stomped into our bedroom at some ungodly pre or breaking dawn hour, announced it is morning time, he then requests or more precisely demands “ABC kids Mum!?” At about 6:30am on Sunday mornings, the goggle box gets switched on in our bedroom, and the three of us nestle under the covers, while Rory the racing car, Fireman Sam and Peppa Pig entertain the wee one with accents from my homeland. I normally try to keep my eyes shut, and drift in and out the storylines. My semi successful slumbering if often interrupted by my other half’s not so pleasant commentary. Peppa Pig is a gorgeous show; my favourite part is where all the characters fall on the floor laughing at the end. Peppa, her ...

I had a realization that my brain had not been working at anywhere near full capacity for over two years.  The sleep I managed to get under my belt in the first of me wee boys life had me functioning. Functioning, that is all. I knew this. However my poppet is now 2 years and 2 months and has been sleeping through the night for good long while now, maybe even a year? But it feels like my brain has recently flicked out of standby mode, and is now fully powered and operational.  How can this be? It was hard rubbish day last Monday, inspiring a level of energy and focus that I’m not sure was ever present in me before. The spare room, which had become a room of discarded items, noisy toys and occasional sporting equipment, was my nemesis. In the purge I came across a highchair that clips on to the bench top, such a fabulous, fabulous invention. It had been used daily for months on end, and was so disgustingly encrusted with yogurt and other bubba friendly food ...

Have you ever had an idea that hits upon you like a flash of bright white light, and you think, how have I not had this amazing brainwave before? Last night, while lying in bed, reflecting on the evening gone, a most wonderful idea popped fully formed into my head! It is not an idea that will change the world, but this thought bubble brought lightness to my entire day. We have just returned, my two year old and me, from the long and amazing trip back to my homeland. Not only are we adjusting to being without my wonderful family and friends, but also the husband has buggered off on business trip, and it is just us two, and the very noisy pets bustling about the house – alone L . Last night’s dinner, a fully toddler friendly meal of homemade veggie fried rice, could only pass the stubborn (I don’t know where he gets it from??) lips of Mr 2 whilst he was adventuring with Thomas the tank engine in the bath. As he had mainly existed while in the UK on a diet of bread...

Do you find yourself always in a rush? When you are waiting for the green man, are you tapping your toe? As your computer screen loads, are you holding your breath? A simple story in the Melbourne Child magazine touched me this week, a tale of a mother of wee ones always in a rush, despite not needing to be. This resonated with me. The toddler pace of life is one that is one moment all: go Go GO ! As more than one friend commented recently, “He just doesn’t stop, does he?” But the next toddler moment can be excruciatingly slow; like when your wee sprog is having thermal meltdown at the supermarket checkout. I like to be busy and I like to be social, and I don’t like to be tardy. Now trying to combine these three with a two year old involves lots of “we’ll finishing playing that later”, “not now”, “we’ll do that we get back” and “don’t you want to go and see so and so?” as well as a fair few tears and protests.   My big bub has started saying “Come play with me, Mum?” and...

I was on the phone to beautiful brother the other day, and I was telling him how my husband could not resist giving me part of my mother’s day present early. I had to preface this with letting him know it was mother’s day here in the land down under, as back in the UK we celebrate our mummies in March. At the mention of mother’s day, my dear brother let a little sad ‘oh’.   Our mum passed away 14 years ago now, lost in a mixture of accident, long-term illness and a sort of suicide that broke all our hearts. Grief is a dark black thing, and for a short period just the word ‘mum’ cut deep into our fractured beings. Even as the years went by, Mother’s day was a bitter pill to swallow. The shops full for weeks before the day announcing the celebration of someone we’d lost. People say time heals, but I don’t think it does. It does however give you the opportunity to learn many important lessons; you learn how to compartmentalize, you are more able to navigate the w...