Archive for diary of a mad cow
Giveaway: Cars 2 Prize Pack
Posted by: | CommentsRemember my afternoon a few weeks back of drinking blood orange, apple and gin from a glass jar and being jumped on my unwieldy toddlers whilst I reclined in a wipe-downable bean bag, and tried my damndest to watch Cars 2 on 3D, then on 2D, then at all without being impaled by a wayward, pointy knee before giving up and getting another blood orange and gin based drink?
Well, the movie itself, Cars 2 remember … please do try to keep up … has been a hit in this house and watched numerous times. I even managed the opportunity to sit through a full viewing, which is a unique occurrence in itself.
Anyhoo, the lovely Disney (and PorterNovelli) have offered Diary a Cars 2 Prize Pack to give away.
The Cars 2 pack includes:
- Cars 2 Blu-ray and DVD
- Invisible Pen with UV Light set
- Cars 2 watch
- Credit Card Sized USB Flash Drive
- Mini Car toolkit
- Spy Ear Phone
In order to potentially secure yourself and awesome gift for someone special in your life this Christmas and avoid the whole “going shopping” thing, or keep for yourself and be entertained for hours on end (the mini Car toolkit is awesome!) all you need do is leave a comment below telling me what you’d do with your time whilst your little cherubs are happily ensconced in the action that is Cars 2
The most creative/pants wetting entry will be the winner.
The comment must be below, and must come with a valid email address so I may contact you to let you know you’ve won the prize and where it may be sent.
The deadline is Wednesday November 30th … lets say 10.00pm.
Comment before then, on this blog, with a valid email address. Simple.
And make me smile or something 
Yesterday’s undies and a bunch of bloggers
Posted by: | CommentsI had the absolute pleasure, today, of attending a Bloggers Brunch, organised and hosted by Room To Grow TV and Kids Business
Better still I was one of the speakers during the morning, where it was my duty to provide a five minute talk designed to inspire and motivate.
All of which I had to do on myself, given Chippie’s propensity to work his way into our bed at some stupid hour. What happens from then is anybody’s guess, as the kid has no consistency about him. Some days he can repeatedly come in, wearing us down till we let him stay in, other’s he’ll happily be placed back in his own bed. Sometimes he’ll want to go back to his own bed himself. Once – and only once – did he not come in at all.
Given the importance of the day for me, he chose to keep me as awake as possible during those stupid hours. Also, Grumpy, just yesterday, knowing I had to be elsewhere at 8am, had agreed to an extra shift, requiring his elsewhereness to be 7am.
Much swearing was had, particulary after he phoned to aske me what I planned to do about organising the reallocation of the kids before the childcare centre opened and school started. I tried very hard to allude to the fact that he could bloody well sort it given I’d given him a month’s notice, but he only gave me 4 hours, to no avail.
Raced around, barking orders at children and trying to decide what to wear. Not having a full length mirror at my disposal, nor my wits about me, I resorted to the views of the children; “this top, or this one?” and I had to endure screwed up noses, giggling at being able to see my belly button, having “I can see your BOOBS!” yelled at me, asked when I’m having another baby cos “you’re pregNET!”, the likelihood that the enire neighbourhood heard my yelling “I”m not PREGNANT, I’m JUST FAT, ok!”, all whilst trying to get lunches made, children dressed and childcare bag packed.
Finally, I was dressed and received several more inspiring and motiviating comments from my gorgeous children, like “I can see your fat in that top” before kicking them out of the car as it sped by another school mums house.
On top of that, I hadn’t had much coffee. Or food. Chippie had eaten all but two bites of my toast.
Kid free and amoungst a bunch of understanding an empathetic women was enough; without even discussing my morning. I did catch a glimpse of the guest list whilst checking in (really, just to get the free and much needed coffee voucher before someone was seriously injured and/or I fell to the floor, convulsing due to lack of caffiene) and was a little bit in awe at the calibre of attendees at the Brunch. Thankfully, my level of fatigue prevented me from appreciating the calibre and I was able to go about my business.
I was also speaking alongside some exceptionally incredible and inspring women, including my two good friends Renee Mayne (the Bra Queen) and Alli Price of Motivating Mum - which was a bit scary. But also laods of fun. LOADS!
I did get to do my talk, which I managed to get through, hopefully successfully convincing the audience I wasn’t actually a super mum, because I’m not even though some people like to think I am cos I do lots.
I do think they were convinced when, yes, my undies did fall out of the leg of my jeans.
*sigh*
Really. They did.
Food was provided, enabling me to quash my emotions by eating – hurrah! – and even better, becuase lately my diet seems to be consisting more and more of food that has been held in the hand of a toddler for up to half an hour, before being shoved into my face and force fed to me.
It was a nice change.
Then we got to play with some toys and take some home. I chose a Little Tikes train thing with a handle and a replica DHL truck, from Bruder, which was really awesome and has a great replacement gaurantee, although they were a bit unsure about whether it being hurled from the back door in a fit of temper voided the warranty or not.
Of course, they were promptly whisked out of the back of the car and released from their boxes and bindings by my children and I never got the chance to play with them. Humph.
All I got was the opportunity to eventually get around to washing some undies.
Big thanks to Kids Business and Room To Grow for a remarkable event and for not only having me speak at it, but appreciating it and giving me great feedback.
And to all the sponsors of the event!
Buy My Book! A Guide to Bad Mothering
Posted by: | CommentsThe Favourite Uncle is supposed to be coming over for lunch today.
It is his birthday, so we killed some time and managed to avoid the constant “What time is our Favourite Uncle coming over?” by smattering it with a bit of “But I don’t want to help you make gingerbread biscuits for him” (the “even though it was my suggestion and I only said it so we didn’t have to go shopping to get him a present and now it is too late” is a given) and “You’re the worst mother in the world” and “You will help me make these biscuits for hiim whether you like it or not and you will enjoy it!”
Many hours after lunchtime, the nagging and whining gets to me and I allow them to ring The Favourite Uncle who advises he will come tomorrow. For lunch.
So, I have snuck away and am pretending I am very busy and important, writing furiously and can’t be disturbed.
Instead, I am letting you now where and how you can by the unofficial launch, personally signed by me (or, I can get one of the kids to sign it if you prefer) copy of my book; Diary of a Mad Cow: A Guide to Bad Mothering
Easy peasy!
Just here http://www.realmums.com.au/shop/proddetail.php?prod=MCG2BM-book&cat=10
Click on that link, follow the instructions and pay 
Or click on this awesome, animated jpeg!
What to expect when you become a Published Author part 2
Posted by: | CommentsOr course, when you become a Published Author and your books arrive on your doorstep, the day doesn’t finish when the kids arrive home from school.
No, the 9 year old is in a feral mood and not letting his guest do, touch or look at anything and I am forced to intervene and be all grumpy when I am, in fact, extraordinarily happy.
The three larger boys go for a bike ride, whilst Grumpy Pants faffs around out the back with the littlest one. I get back to organising for my dinner out – my Mental Health Moment – this evening when I am dragged from my reverie by the screaming – screaming – emantating from the front gate. It was seriously loud.
I recognise the scream as Godzilla’s, loud even for him, and I envisage broken limbs and amputated digets. He’s only had this bike a few months and is still getting used to it. I hurdle the train deluge throughout the hall, risking several broken limbs myself, and race to the front door. He’s holding his leg and screaming.
I frantically feel his leg, noticing a smallish graze on the inside of his knee that had yet to ooze any form of bodily fluid. He screamed and screamed, demanding a band aid and informing me that the graze was it. Fingers and toes still intact and no bones broken.
I’m a published author I wanted to loudly inform him. Published authors don’t have to deal with this shit, and I rolled my eyes, extracted the cheap box of “sticking plasters” courtesy of the Mother-In-Law who has a knack for buying cheap shit in bulk and gifting it to us.
I have to admit, in cases like this, they are most welcome.
At this point, the now bored children eventually understood the fact that my books – My Books – had arrived and become most excited and animated. I beamed with pride.
For several seconds anyway.
“MUM, MUM your books are here!”
“Yes, yes they are,” I beamed. With pride.
“Can you just take them out so we can have the box?” asks Monkey Boy as Godzilla screams “LOOK! There’s styrofoam!”
And they set about entertaining themselves with the delivery …
… and I hope I can sell enough books to pay for their dental bills.
Monkey Boy despite my protests, picks a copy up to read, and I repeatedly request he puts the book down. Mostly due to its levels of M ratedness. I am forced to further explain that it has “rude words” in it, which only causes him to be more excited and race out of the room, yelling to his guest that he had found something”more exciting than LEGO!”
I bet not a lot of authors get that kind of recommendation!
He then assures me he will read “just until the first swear word”, which I know is on the Acknowledgements page and ponder if he he one of the type that actually reads this page.
I travelled to our restaurant for dinner, by foot, carting boxes of books and prizes and all sorts of good stuff that was accompanying us at dinner, managed a shower and frocked up (in my gorgeous, boob covering and flattering frock from Verily) and head off for a scrumptious dinner with some of my bestest friends and other great women.
Finally, finally I was afforded the respect I’m sure I am now entitled to, via a text from one of my besties informing me she was running late, and that I was not to sign or hand over any books until she had received hers, given she was the very first person to purchas one. It’s not the first time she’d reminded me. I was a little scared as to what would occur if I went ahead and signed and handed over books.
Eventually she arrived and I was able to commence signing books whilst everyone else stood around drinking wine, and I was presented with two very special presents from two very special people.
I have the most fabulous evening thereafter, filled with laugh and fabulous food and much wine and I am happy and content.
And … a Published Author
(You can buy my damn book Here )
DON’T MAKE ME GO HOME!
Posted by: | Comments*sigh*
Our last day in Shanghai with Coke Dude, no kids, no responsibilty – other than spreading happiness, living positively and polishing off as much food as we could from the breakfast buffet.
Awoke to beautiful Mother’s Day message from Coke Dude: “Morning and Happy Mother’s Day. I’ve managed t get you all a special breakfast buffet in the Aroma Cafe – cooked it all myself …”
Technically, it was the Cafe and buffet we had eaten at the last two monrings. And I suspect he was telling big fat lies about cooking it all himself. Still, it was the thought that counts, and it reminded me to call my own family (family, what family? I have a family? Oh, yeah. Was having so much fun I forgot about them – whoops!) so they could wish me Happy Mother’s Day, personally.
I shower first, then ring to hear Chippie crying in the background, Monkey Boy informs me that Daddy has been grumpy at Chippie, Godzilla is playiing the Wii when Daddy told him not to and continued to provide me a long list of misdemeanours over the last 24 hours since I last spoke with them.
Like I cared. Or could do anything about it. In that order.
Had brief chat to Grumpy, was informed that Godzilla preferred not to chat to me as he was playing very important game of Mario Kart and wasn’t to be disturbed, much yelling and tears as Grumpy had words and phone went dead.
The battery died, I swear! It was a cordless phone, the battery went dead!
Couldn’t get through on other phone in my room, although was tempted to use the phone beside the toilet, just because I could. Allowed battery to recharge and stress levels to reduce before putting on pants in window overlooking fabulous view and ring agian.
Godzilla now totally ensconced in game, however granted me pleasure of conversation that involved “daddy made me talk to you”, mummbling something else whilst totally distracted, and saying “oh, yeah, Happy Mother’s Day” before handing phone to Chippie who pressed numerous buttons on phone and repeated “Uh oh, dear” several times before disconnecting me.
Breakfast was as delicious as previous days, even if not personally prepared by Coke Dude (not sure if this is good thing or not) before we went upstairs to retreive our bags and meet the car that was to take us on a shopping tour of Shanghai. Refraiined from requesting conceirge to collect bag, as they may very well have had to stand there, pulling on my legs to drag me out of room.
Then we’re off to, firstly a Buddhist temple, where me made some wishes, then various shopping areas, malls, markets and some gorgeous little cobblestone streets where we were only last night. Located the Chinese dumpling soup place again, and enjoyed a spread of deliciousness … a small rest … and much shopping!
Fully satisfied in more ways than one, it was off to the aiport for checkin … except we were busting for a wee, so it was a short stop off, interesting expereince and significant leg work out as we were treated to use of a squat toilet. Still, can’t say we fully experienced the trip without giving one of those a go.
Checked in, more shopping done, duty free, for last minute gifts and things and up into the business lounge where we showered and prepared ourselves for the long flight home … and ensured we were suitably attired for air travel …
Then it was onto the plane, were we farewelled the fabulous city that is Shanghai, and the time we had all just had together, settled into the routine of ensuring everyone in business class a) knew we were there, and b) were all happy, embarked upon mission set by Coke Dude to be photographed with all flight personell on the plane (we got all but the pilot and co-pilot! Impressive) and settled down for a good night’s sleep.
Up early again tomorrow … to make sure we actually get off the plane!
(I’m really gonna miss my new friends, Mummy-Time, Get in the Hot Spot and Sunny Mummy *sob* Oh, and Coke Dude of course)
Hugest thanks to the Coca-Cola Company for this amazing opportunity! Love your work!
Anything else you wanna throw at me?
Posted by: | CommentsGrumpy home this morning to “assist” with the getting ready for school, which, usual, consisted of him feeding Chippie, eating toast, drinkng coffee, reading the paper and being totally oblivious to my increasing-in-volume-and-forcefulness requests that they do various before school tasks like doing things that don’t annoy me and move the morning routine along in the direction we want.
In all fairness, when I reached the point where the temptation for homicide was at it’s peak and articulated this via a “Will you do something with him before I fucking kill him?” he went and did some yelling of his own (although he wasn’t really quite sure what he was supposed to be yelling about), which only served to cause more distress to 6 year old.
Thus, slowing the entire process.
*sigh*
It rained just as they were at that “COME ON WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!” stage, giving them an extra 15 minutes, as the opted to take the car.
I gave up at this point, poured another MUG and had a shower (my first in 2 days) and set about working, where all kinds of technical issues, storms and stupid things prevented me from doing much on my list.
Grumpy headed off to work, Chippie had his obligatory 23 minute sleep and spent the afternoon removing clean clothes from the washing basket and tossing them all over the floor, fiddling with the washing machine and locating cat vomit, grabbing a handful and tossing it at me. He managed another two before I managed to grab him and prevent myself from spewing on his head.
Washdown, complete with antibacterial dunking, change of clothes, change nappy which is more wet on outside than inside and it’s off to swimming. Hang towels out, walk inside, storm hits … typical, could have left him out and saved hassle of giving him a washdown.
Get to school early – mostly due to boredom, partly to avoid crazy mums who come out when it rains and drive like fuckwits - stand outside classroom chatting to some mums, listen to other mums laughing loudly and turn to discover my almost 15 month old splashing about in a puddle and having a great time.
Love how other mums are soooo helpful and come to your aid.
Strip off top, as it’s the only one I have with me, and find relief in the fact that the shorts he’s wearing are, in fact, board shorts, so perfect for water of all kinds. Make it to swimming, remove shorts and nappy that is more wet on the outside than the inside, deal with 6 year old tanties from Godzilla, to the point of threatening that he will miss dinner and go to bed as soon as we get home.
He’d already lost swimmng lesson privileges, having been forced to apologise for not participating because “I’m being an obnoxious little brat”. He wussed out, so I said it on his behalf, and he sat on the side while Monkey Boy did his lesson and I had a play with Chippie.
More tanties then it was time to go home …
The smell of post-bath children
Posted by: | CommentsKids everywhere, Chippie outside and getting into everything he shouldn’t, other two eating everything they can get their hands on and additional children being extremely well behaved and playing with things that are “new” to them.
Drag Chippie in, filthy, feed him dinner (all part of the immunisation program – at least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it) and it’s bath time.
I love bath time. I actualy get one. Admittedly, full of penises and farts, but a bath at any rate. Lots of baby bubbles, lavender oil and other “please, please do something to make my kids settle and go to sleep early!” type oils and bath additives.
That done, they’re dressed and ready for bed after a smidge of relaxing and winding down.
Cats start clawing at door, and perform the “Have you fed the cats yet? The ones you’re supposed to feed as soon as you get home from school?”
Routine continues; deep sighs, why can’t someone else do it, I hate cats, what have the cats ever done for me, blah blah blah, and out he goes to feed the cats.
Leaving door wide open (another, routinely had conversation) and the little one escapes, because outdoors is more fun that indoors.
Wonder about the logic of bathing babies. At any time of day, really. Is it to create a blank canvas for adding more dirt? Is it just so I have a better idea of when dirt was added to various body parts?
Collect him from outdoors; lament fact that not 7 minutes ago he smelt of clean, baby bubbles.
Take deep breath in – not really sniffing him, more in anticipation of rather significant sigh – hair no longer smelling mildy of lavender.
More along lines of cat food. And the vague scent of squished snail.
When I say “low maintenance” I mean by my standards, not yours
Posted by: | CommentsOur 10th wedding anniversary today, and spend it not with husband, who is off working a double shift again today. This means leaving before school dropoff and arriving home well after bedtime.
With a possible drop in during the day. No promises, however.
I do, however, have a haircut booked thanks to a voucher I won during an online Life Challenge – I believe it came to the right person. I drop Chippie off at a friend’s house and embark on the nearly one hour drive to the salon in a snobbier neighbourhood than my current hairdresser works from.
Am wracked with guilt at fact that am missing a cut with current (fabulous) hairdresser, whom I visit as regularly as, say, once every 6 months.
Arrive at destination, and am treated not to a haircut, but an experience, kicked off with a neck and shoulder masasge, and a licorice tea served in a trendy glass, a current magazine and then whisked off to have the whole hairwash thing before back to my seat to discuss what I need.
Feel somewhat virginal, as I usually do when confronted with a new professional service person of some sort, losing confidence and wondering if I’ll sound like an idiot when explaining what I want.
“Oh, um, you know, um, low maintenance and, erm, nice.” Followed by a big smile.
She starts talking about layering and “whispy” looks and “low maintenance” and it all sounds very good and lovely and have visions of Meg Ryan early 2000′s type style.
She starts cutting and twirly and clipping my hair up, followed by unclipping and more hair twirling and cutting, before retrieving a selection of 14 different types of hair brush, some “product” and a high powered hair dryer that almost disrobes me when she turns it on.
I’m advised she will show me how I can style it, but “don’t worry, it’s really easy” before proceeding with a series of complex manoeuvres, wrist flicks, and utilisation of at least half the brushes before her. Manoeuvres way more complicated than my standard bending at the waist and drying my hair, upside down, with a gnat like hairdryer.
The entire process takes over an hour and I head back to collect Chippie. A four hour round trip by the time I walk in the front door, wondering how the hell I’m going to repeat this morning’s process with my hair, and hoping like hell it will be, as I’ve been assured, ok without all the drying, brushing in 86 different directions and organic products, developed in the deepest Amazon and manufactured with ingredients from the Peruvian jungles.
And I seriously hope it’s whispy!
I do find a brand new, stainless steel kettle waiting for me, with a lovley anniversary card from my beloved.
Damn, now I have to find time to buy him a present. But what?
I plug the kettle in, and the answer is clear … our white toaster is now looking somewhat out of place, surrounded by relatively new stainless steel items! I’m sure he’d appreciate a new toaster to celebrate 10 years…
Wet Day, Thursday
Posted by: | CommentsThey say there’s nothing like routine for babies and children and Chippie seems to have taken this advice all too well.
Thursday if fraught with all kinds of stuff, it’s just that sort of day. I’ve managed to work out that Thursday is grocery shopping day. Aside from it being that point in the fortnight where we’re so badly in need of stuff that it’s getting annoying, it’s also the only day I can manage to fit it in around everything else.
Grumpy takes Chippie to playgroup, then heads off to work after we enjoy a quick lunch together. Chippe and I then head off to shopping when he wakes, hopefully at a time that allows me to complete the shop at a pace somewhere between leisurely and rushed, and have enough time to unpack car, put at least the fridge and freezer stuff away, pack swimming bags and snacks and head off to school pickup and mor eswimming lessons.
Today was a good one, having been allowed plenty of time, Chippie smiling at all the oldies in the supermarket before succumbing to a tantrum in the cereal isle and the pace picked up.
He then discovered he could make a rasberry noise with his tongue, complete with flying spit and followed up with a cheeky grin. Only to the oldies though, who, thankfully, thought it cute and not rude at all.
Strap Chippie into car, load it up, climb in, drive out of parking spot and nearly crash into a parked Volvo when feel someting crawl across my eye. A teensy spider, but still, surely it could have picked a better place for a jaunt than an arachnophobes eye!
The fun didn’t stop there, either. In true Thursday form, I reach in to pull him out of the car when we get home, and he has somehow managed to get himself, quite literally, soaking wet.
Am impressed, even this is an achievement. Usually he has the aid of a puddle, cat’s water bowl or negligently left glass of water to aid him in this task. All he had today was a sipper cup with a firmly squished on lid. And strapped into his car seat.
I really can’t even work out how he managed it. A small amout, yes, but to be sodden from neck to knees, and half way down his back is beyond comprehension.
And only then was it time for getting wet; school pickup and swimming lessons …
Do as I say, not as I do
Posted by: | CommentsThen it is time for school pickup.
Godzilla decide’s he wants a haircut. No time this evening (meaning, I can’t be arsed tonight and have lots of other stuff to do), and say so. Cearly overtired and/or just not happy about not getting his own way, he contests, and contests and I explain and explain and finally he melts down completely, tantrum style.
I wander on, letting him know he’d be left behind if he continued (hoping or threatening, I’m not quite sure, but anyhoo) and he lagged further and further behind.
Monkey Boy, suddenly Best Behaved Child In The World, comments that Godzilla would have to cross the road on his own if he didn’t hurry up. Yes, apparently I need a running commentary as well.
I state that Godzilla would have to deal with and mumble something about bloody little shits under my breath, convinced Monkey Boy couldn’t hear, as only minutes before I’d had to explain to him, just short of yelly voice, that he was to shut up and leave his brother alone.
“Um mah! You swore! Can I swear?”
“NO!” realising there is also little to no point in my asking how he heard this and nothing else I’d said in the last 10 minutes.
“That’s not fair. You get to swear more than I do. I should be allowed to swear more than I do!”
Mad Cow writes a very funny blog that all parents can relate to. I know that whenever I drop in to catch up I will end up in stitches (of laughter!) and head off to my day with a smile on my face. Thankfully, here is someone who tells it like it is. 