I just don’t know you anymore

I’m so confused. Bec, you own yoga pants and now I find out you actually do yoga and with someone called Clare and in your kitchen? Are you doing yoga with that serenely scary woman on Foxtel?

Has the world has gone mad?

On a lighter, far more encouraging note, I discovered today that one of my bestest school friends is a) back in the country and b) on the verge of a new romance. How cool is that. Welcome back Dot!!!

It’s always handy to remember just how bad labour pains really feel

I know this is not the most tactful heading for a blog shared with an incubating woman, but I honestly have to go there…

See this? I want you to picture me, in the kitchen this morning, at the start of a perfect day – not actually going through a yoga routine but attempting (yes, with s.p.o.n.t.a.n.e.i.t.y Kim!) to demonstrate to my husband why even flipping pancakes was giving me cause to wince.

So I say to the Prof: Check this out, yesterday Clare made us do these really low warrior poses and (I position my legs as above, right heel turned well out, left knee at right angle) then she kept making us drop another inch, then another inch…

Now look again at the picture above and imagine if, instead of a serene and glistening sea in front of my left leg there was an unseen splash of water left over from unpacking the dishwasher…

Who says yoga is not a contact sport? Because I am pretty sure my left hamstring made contact with the back of my head before sproinging back into what is now laughingly known as my leg.

The Anatomy Formerly Known As Bec’s Leg would like to apologise and nameste all the gods of yoga for showing unforgivable hubris over pancakes, to accept its punishment and to seek forgiveness and healing.

In the meantime, I can at least be grateful that, since these aren’t REAL labour pains, at least the gods won’t add injury to insult and force me to take on another child in order to make them stop.

mtc (but dear lord, not too much more I hope)


Good Lord, woman…

You blogged like a demon AND you still had time for playdough. Yes, the lady definitely deserves her God card back in her wallet.


sun shining

Is there anything more glorious than a Sydney winter’s day where there is not a cloud in the sky, the air crystal clear and the sun shining brightly on us all below?

Today was meant to be a journey into Sydney’s deep South-West for a gathering of my uni class from last semester. Unfortunately, about 10 minutes from home (with about an hour 20 to go until arrival and several road tolls in between) the petrol light was on. It was – there’s money for tolls or money for petrol. So around we turned.

This could have sent me into a ‘I hate having no money’ ‘my life is crap’ mega-moment, but instead, we made an impromptu call to some friends and ended up at one of the best parks in the known universe. Here we spent a few hours catching up, kids playing, sun shining. Then we bumped into our old next door neighbour and had a chat, and then we saw some other dear friends and their kids. I’m telling you, this is my idea of a great idea – no domestic chores, children largely keeping themselves occupied, relatively uninterrupted discussion with friends, s.p.o.n.t.a.n.e.i.t.y. and no sweating.

Divine, people. Divine.

Oh, and the petrol money ended up going on a couple of kids Happy Meals and me reading a Sunday newspaper while they went mad on play equipment at the Golden Arches. Who said I wasn’t a cool (albeit dietarily questionable) mum?

when someone borrows your children

This morning after tennis, we visited the inlaws as they’ve been away (again – these people travel) in Adelaide. I got go off on a massive tangent about the state with both the highest unsolved homocide rate and sales of Taft hairspray for the highest blonde fringes in the Southern hemisphere, but, later.

Anyway, on leaving, Oscar was so devestated – think lying face down on the driveway wailing as if to summon the piss-off-parents-I’m-not-going-anywhere-without-a-fight spirits – the inlaws, bless them, asked if he could stay for.the.day.

As we hooned off down the street with – just.one.child. – I reckon they took it all as a yes.

So the rest of this stunning Sydney mid-winter day was spent having a quick snooze on the lounge, hanging out with my sensitive second child and – wait for it – m.a.k.i.n.g. p.l.a.y.d.o.u.g.h.

Yes, my status as god-parent has been completely restored.

At one stage – after I made playdough cupcakes and fat little people, Felix said, “this is exactly what I dream of when I want to have you just to myself.”

Yes, today is a good day.

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