#885 2 nights and 3 days

Sometimes that’s all you need.

Getting away with my family for 2 nights and 3 days, spending uninterrupted non-stop family time together, was… beautiful? Interesting? Relaxing?

How about all of the above.


It was very quiet, and it was very low-key, but that is exactly how we wanted it. And as much as we loved our family time together, the purpose of our trip has been satisfied.

We are fulfilled. Our energy and enthusiasm reserves are restored once again.

Hubbie will go back to work tomorrow with some renewed vigour.

Baby girl will go back to kinder tomorrow with extra ammo in her step to paint all the pictures and swing as high as she can.

And I will go back to… what do I do again?

Oh that’s right. EVERYTHING.

I love going away, but coming back home is great too, because it gives you back some of that oomph! often lost in Winter…

#818 What Mother’s Day really means

You might think I am a day too early, but this has all happened after midnight you see. If you must, let’s call it Mother’s Day Eve.

Or just Motherhood, or Parenthood, right? Because putting things mildly, things went from crabby to horrific in a matter of hours tonight.

We were at a function on the other side of town. Baby girl had been better today, amazingly so, and so we went. She complained of something new though – her teeth. She said they were sore, and so on and on it went… from the car… to the reception… THE ENTIRE NIGHT.

We left as early as we could. She fell asleep in the car as expected. But then, woke up about 20 minutes from home.

And she cried and whinged the entire time.

At times she screamed. She whimpered as if having a bad dream. Her breath stuttered from crying so much. She was even hysterical.

What did we do? Well I tried to reason with her. I told her to stop. Ask her what was wrong. I told her I was there for her. I told her she had to calm down. I wiped her nose, and held her hand – while driving.

It barely helped.

So I did the good cop bad cop routine, and put on my angry hat and DEMANDED she stop crying. She was being ridiculous. She only cried louder. She was red and babbling and upset and no matter how angry I got, again, nothing seemed to help.

In fact it made it worse.

What was Hubbie doing? Well he tried. But let’s just say if she is not working with me, she won’t have a bar of him.

We finally got her inside the house. She cried as we walked up the driveway, after midnight, and I was sure her frantic cries would wake the neighbours and make them want to call the police.

The end of the night, had been a disaster. I was so upset. Is this what my weekend would become? Was this my lovely payday leading up to Mother’s Day? Did I deserve this wholehearted crap heaped upon me and my family?

Was this it?

I rugged her up and put her into bed, securing the blankets around her tightly. I sat close, and whispered to her as I gently stroked her head, to sleep.

“Shh, Mama’s here.”

“Mama loves you, always remember that.”

“I’m always here, whenever you need me.”

Her ragged breaths rose and fell, her small body shaking with every stutter, and as I made my strokes on her head more gentle, more softer, more deliberate, her breath evened, turned into whispered starts, and went silent.

Her body and the cold bed had merged as one, warming itself like a cocoon, and I could see from her face she was getting deeper and deeper. I sat there watching this peaceful face. This face that had made me so worried/mad/sad, and now all I could see in that moment, was love.

She had had enough of everything. She was over it all. She was tired. She just needed a break. 

Go figure. I had thought it was the teeth. All she needed was bed, my gentle touch, and my loving words.

A Mother’s work is not easy. It is trying and exhausting and it will make you cry from frustration as much as it will make you cry from happiness.

But when you watch their still and peaceful faces at the end of a long day…

You come to understand that the flowers, the chocolates, the gifts on Mother’s Day, mean nothing.

Because it is in these moments of reflection and tiredness, relief and grounding, that you come to appreciate what Mother’s Day is all about.

Simply, being a Mother. In every way, shape and form, through sunshine and storm.




#799 (Tiny) kitchen hand

I was preparing dinner. One of the things on tonight’s list were these too-easy mini pizzas I make using puff pastry, and they work just as well as a side dish as they do in baby girl’s kinder lunchbox.

She spied me, making them.

“Mama me help?”

I must have grumbled, or made no response. I was in one of those moods. You know that mood where you just want to get shit done, instead of entertaining someone and being all patient?

Sadly in that moment, I wasn’t the ‘let’s do this together honey!’ Mum I try to be. Rather I was the short-tempered and cranky ‘I’m busy!’ Mum.

I must have realised this though, because even when her back was turned as I got to a part that she could do, instead of quickly finishing them off myself, I called her over.

“Do you wanna help me sprinkle cheese?”

And after she did that, narrating “sprinkle sprinkle sprinkle” as she went, she then asked

“Can I roll?”

I breathed in deep for that one. God help me how would they turn out? … But sure, why the hell not? It was just rolling.

They turned out beautiful. One broke in the middle half-way through, but I didn’t even care. I had suddenly seen ourselves through my eyes 5 years earlier, and realised that she was helping me – wanting to help me in the kitchen – something a pre-Motherhood SmikG would have clapped her hands with joy for. Something a pre-baby me would have thought was the most cherished and beautiful thing in the world to share.

And so I pushed my busy-ness to the side, and stood in the glow of gratitude.

#788 What she said no. 4

Today’s highlights include:

“Mama, me miss you soooo much!”

This one happened about 17 times today, and mind you we haven’t been apart from each other ALL day.

“This sauce so yummy, mmm thank you Mama!”

Finally deciding to try sauce with her all-time fave food, pasta, and realising that I am not full of shit and it does taste good!

“No Mama, you no make deal with me, I make deal with you!”

Arguing. Just because, 4. Going on 14. That’s it.

But it’s all balance, you see. Another day in the highly conversational life of baby girl…


#769 What she said no. 3

Or should it be, the many things baby girl said today.

After I came home from work: “Mama me miss you!”

During a birthday party: “You’re the best Mama!”

And on the drive home “I keep you Mama!”

LOL and Awww all in one. I love this girl so much, and unbelievably so, she just keeps melting my heart, stealing a bit more of it each time, even though I thought she already had it all… ♥♥♥

#768 Purple hair

Have a look at the below pic:


That’s me taking a photo of my hair getting soaked with hair colouring. Look a little closer.


(Well not too close to see that pimple on my chin…) See that colour on my forehead? See the tint coming off my hair, exposed to sunlight?


Now calm down folks. It’s not as insane as it looks. In fact, hair colouring always looks WAY more vibrant in cream form than it turns out to be later on when it is all washed out.

I just had this weird thought earlier in the week, thinking of my upcoming hairdresser’s appointment, and I went “I want to do something crazy… I’m colouring my hair purple.”

Just like that. Why purple? Well it’s kind of a thing now, isn’t it? I used to love the colour exclusively (now that preference is usually red) and I even once convinced my parents to paint our entire house a soft shade of lilac. TRUE STORY. I shudder to think of the crazy things baby girl will talk me into when she is a teen…

But, I just felt like going a bit cray cray, you know? You know when you reach a point, when you say “Stuff it?”


I take inspiration from Hubbie. As a family member said to him recently “Every time I see you, you’re doing something different with your hair and facial hair.”

He says “it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

It’s just colour. My parents eventually painted over those walls.

My hair colour will fade, only to be replaced by something new.

It’s not freakishly ‘Purple Rain’ purple or anything. I am not going totally cray cray. I’m just dabbling in some, you know, Motherhood cray cray. The motherhood cray cray where you just wanna shake off those cobwebs and not give a stuff and be totally selfish in your time, money and activities: THAT sort of cray cray.

There was no bleach involved, which means that unless my head is in the sun, all you will think is that my hair colour is dark. But stepping out, baby…


It shines. It’s not full on. It’s different, Kath and Kim style.

I like it. It’s noice.

#736 Cherishing the “Mama”s

“Help me Mama.”

“Mama can you come play with me, pleeeeaaaasssseeeee?”

“Mama where are you? Mama?!”

“No Mama, me do it by self.”

“Thank you Mama.”

(In the middle of the night) “Mama!”

I find it hard to remember the transition. The transition from when baby girl was a baby and not yet saying “Mama,” to when she was older and then suddenly, it was ONLY Mama.

Maybe because it is so swift a change. They say it a handful of times and you clap your hands in glee, with tears welling at the corners of your eyes, and then in a few days time they are following you with repeated “Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama, Mama…”

And you sigh a little and grumble under your breath “great.”

But today, on another quiet and down day, I took the time to try and be present in the moment, and in doing so, I heard her sweet voice.


I hope she calls me like that for the rest of our lives.

And then at some point today…

“Mama… I like you best.”



Photo by Arleen wiese on Unsplash