My darling bud of May

My darling bud of May

Today is the Rosebud’s second birthday.

Hard to believe it’s been two years since this little one came into our lives.  She’s so precious.  But of course, I am very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very biased.

She’s definitely hit the ‘twos’ (terrible isn’t so nice – perhaps ‘trying’ is better?).  Daniel just likes to say that she’s blossoming in every area of her life – including the naughty bits 🙂

She’s a real hoot, too.  Got a good sense of humour this one.  A little bit on the cheeky side.

In many ways she’s like her Daddy.  I think she’ll be a reader.  She’s already diggin’ Dobby the House Elf, just like her Daddy.  She particularly loves reading library books at the moment.  What I mean by reading is tearing pages out of library books 🙁

And like her Daddy she loves to watch TV.  She’s got the fundamentals down pat – you know, The Simpsons, and Peppa Pig.  Here she is channelling a little bit of Hannibal Lector.  No, I have not let her watch Silence of the Lambs.  What kind of psycho parent do you think I am??

She’s a precious little monkey who I obviously adore.  Sometimes my heart aches because of how quickly she’s changing.  I wish I had a pause button so I could just enjoy moments a little longer.  Like cheese and bacon roll moments.

Love you Rosie.

The List

Yikes!  It’s been a little while since I’ve blogged.  Such a little while, in fact, that I’ve decided to make a list.  Yep, it has come to that for me.  I have finally arrived at Destination Desperation.  You may know it.  It’s that place you get to when you have a deadline that is slowly but surely sneaking up on you and which you feel entirely helpless to do anything about actually ensuring you are prepared for that deadline to arrive.
So, I’m resorting to a list.  You see, I’m not a consistent list-maker.  Not like some people who have lists for everything they do.  A list for shopping.  A list for projects.  A list for baby names.  You get my drift.

It’s not that I don’t believe in making lists.  It’s just that normally my brain is functioning at a higher level than it is currently.  Usually I don’t NEED to make lists.  Usually (when I’m not 7.5 months pregnant and chasing a 17 month old around) I’m pretty good at remembering everything I need to do.  And another thing.  Usually I get everything done in record time.  Usually I can clean my whole house in half a day.  And that’s no mean feat because I’ve got a pretty big house to clean.  But I’m efficient and very task-oriented.  Normally.

Currently, I’m easily distracted, my back hurts after doing about a quarter of the vacuuming and, well, if I really want to blame something, the ol’ ‘nesting instinct’ just hasn’t kicked in.  Just thinking about housework makes me want to sleep 🙂

I have a feeling my ‘usually’ is about to change.

Like, forever.

At the moment ‘usually’ for me, means needing several hours of sleep through the day.  And then after waking up from that sleep, thinking only of going back to sleep and how tired I still am.  Unfortunately, my days have been starting around 5.50am (not by choice, believe me, although, I guess I chose to have a baby so I guess chose waking up at 5.50am *sad face*) and then, if I can manage to get the kid down for a mid-day nap I might also manage to wrangle a couple of hours of nap-time myself, if I’m lucky, because that deadline is looming and it’s all I’ve been able to think about, so I TRY to do something productive when I’ve got the chance.

The late nights haven’t helped.  If you have children you’ve probably experienced the absolute love for post-bedtime.  Those blissful, quiet, distraction-free few hours of the day when you can actually get stuff done.  That time, when no one is tugging at your leg telling you in no uncertain baby babble to get off the computer, or when you can safely leave the sewing pins less than a foot away from the edge of the desk knowing that you aren’t going to find anyone using one as a toothpick.  (Ummm, not that that has actually ever happened before or anything.)  Aaaah.  I love post-bedtime.  It’s wonderful.  And so, so, SO very productive.  But the way I feel the morning after, when I’ve only managed to get 6 hours of sleep (not uninterrupted, mind you, between getting up to go the toilet three times a night and responding to cries from the Rosebud) after forcing myself to stop whatever I was doing and just go to bed.  That ain’t wonderful.  That’s just plain horrible.  And only adds to the terrible cycle of tiredness I’ve been finding myself in.

But as I said, I am pretty sure my ‘usual’ is about to change anyway.  I am so excited about having a little baby again, but I’m really not looking forward to those first few weeks with a newborn, when day and night blur into one and you feel like your eyes might very well fall out of your head.  And when people feel free to tell you how terrible you know you look.  And then, once I’ve made it through that hurdle there’ll be the whole thing of renegotiating life with a toddler and baby, figuring out what is realistic for us as a family and what is simply just pie in the sky.  I know there’s going to be changes.

But anyway, getting back to the purpose of this post…  I’m starting to make lists.  Well, one list.  With everything I have/want/am going to try to do before Master Grundy arrives.  Before Christmas Eve, or whenever this little person decides he’s ready to grace us with his presence.  Because, if I don’t, I’m pretty sure that I’m going to be packing my hospital bag in between contractions.  And since I’m not great at packing my own bags at the best of times that is probably a scenario I should definitely aim to avoid.

So far, the list looks something like this…

  • Pack hospital bag.
  • Have baby.
It’s a work in progress.


For someone with a Greek heritage who grew up living and breathing food and cooking, it never ceases to amaze me how easy I find it to mess up even the simplest recipes, like playdough.

Granted, this recipe isn’t meant to be consumed, but it still involves a kitchen, edible ingredients and cooking, not to mention a fool-proof recipe off the back of the MacKenzie’s Cream of Tartar box (that’s the recipe I used, in case there are any other playdough novices out there, apart from me!).  Nevertheless, I still managed to mess it up.

 I’ve been racking my brain for relatively mischief-free activities that I can have ready to entertain the Rosebud.  (We have changed her middle name to Mischief because of all the little misadventures she’s been having lately, like drawing with red lipstick on Mumma’s light beige carpet, for example.)

This was my first encounter with playdough since I was a kid (Rosie’s first encounter too.  And you always have to taste something you’ve never seen before!).

 Check out the tongue, and the little string of spit hanging off it.

My first attempt at making it ended up straight in the bin, hence this post’s title.  As with many of my spur-of-the-moment endeavours I embarked on the journey before actually ensuring I had all the necessary ingredients.  Instead of normal cooking salt I only had rock salt, which I attempted to use thinking it would dissolve in the cooking process.  Right?

Wrong.  Needless to say it wasn’t a great outcome – Rosie’s hands would have been torn to shreds had I actually given it to her.

“So Mum, it’s important you come from a really high angle, okay…”

I did persevere and give it another go with the correct ingredients and it worked out just fine. I used olive oil and that must have been what my Mum used when I was a kid because as soon as I smelt it I was immediately taken back to my childhood.  I can remember how hot it was when it first came out of the pot, and the smell of the salt and oil combined, and how my hands went all dry after playing with it for a while.  It’s amazing how much of an impression smells and textures leave on you.

 So, the playdough activity lasted about 15 minutes until someone decided she would rather throw it on the floor and say “Uh-oh”, expecting Mum to pick it up.  It’s a fun game, that one.  Other than that, I would say it was a success.

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