A BIG and BRIGHT Day!

Tomorrow is a big and beautiful day. My awesome Dad retires after 48 years. That's a huge achievement I do believe. Congratulations Dad!

I've been thinking about how very few people nowadays will ever be able to say that they've worked 48 years in one place. I certainly can't.

And I've been thinking about how... odd retirement must be. But also like a fresh breath of air. A new and fresh adventure awaits you.

Tomorrow is also my birthday. As Nan so eloquently stitched on to this crown - Let the wild rumpus start!

What shall one wear on one's birthday? Besides a birthday suit. Inspiration, puh-lease.

What Today Looked Like

We woke up early - but not too early. The Doctor is an early riser (usually 6am, if not earlier) - but today gave us a sleep-in 'til 7ish. Maybe it's a new seven for 7am thing. 


We opened presents in bed, then he requested breakfast. In bed. He wanted pikelets, so I set to work whipping them up to be devoured amidst a mess of flannel sheets, wrapping paper, and presents. 


A lazy day at home was enjoyed. We watched Diary of a Wimpy Kid (gosh that is SUCH a funny film - highly recommend), hung out together, I mustered some energy to bake (I've got a cold. Poor me) a birthday cake. Cuddled. Reminisced. Cuddled some more. And altogether had a lovely day at home.


I tried to get the Doctor to go ten pin bowling but he wanted to stay home. So what's a mama to do?


We did as he wished, then went out for Chinese (as his heart desired) at our local. Because that's the way we roll. I estimate the Doctor ate about a bowl full of fried rice before declaring that he was ready for cake. READY FOR CAKE! We hurried up with the eating - and then brought out his dream cake... A Freddo ice-cream cake. I know I've talked about this cake before - and I struggle with this cake! 


So above is the cake we're having after dinner tomorrow. To celebrate both boy's birthdays and to continue the birthday festivities. Because that's the way I roll. 


You can read the Doctor's birth story here. (If you're that way inclined.)

On Newborns Turning Seven

My little newborn is turning seven tomorrow. 


I can't quite believe it. 


I so vividly remember everything from before his birth right up to to his birth. Everything. - vomiting spaghetti bolognaise, to telling Matt quite tersely that he'd better hurry up and anticipate my needs. And stop turning the damn lights on. I am an animal. I am in labour. I want to labour in the dark. In the nude. And PS - do not mess with me. 


I remember walking over 2 kms the afternoon before the birth - hiring Sex and the City and laughing when the guy shrilled "see you soon". I remember in my head thinking - "you will NOT see me soon sucker, I'm in labour!" I walked all the way home, having to rest every hundred metres or so while I rode out a contraction. 


I remember when Matt got home that evening. He worked as a framer (as he does now) and hugging him and bursting into tears. 


I remember my sister driving like the clappers to get us to the birth centre. The labour aid exploded all over my foot. And her car. Oops. 


I remember arriving at the birth centre and quite literally tearing my clothes off. 


And I remember coming home with that newborn in my arms. Terrified - the revelation that: "I am responsible for this baby surviving and thriving."


Happy 7th Birthday to my beautiful little man. I am so, so happy and proud that you chose me to be your mama. Ever since we first found out about you, you've brought us great joy. Thank you. x

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVER!

Today is Matt's birthday. 


In celebration, I will probably jump out of a cake. I am totally understated like that. 


Happy Birthday lover. I'm glad we've finally settled on the fact that I am the funny one. 


image via here

Birthday Grand Central

This is a big and beautiful week in our household. In fact, it's a big and busy month! 


On Thursday it's Matt's birthday.
Three days later it's the Doctor's birthday (of course LEGO is top of his wish list). 
Then seven days after that it's my Dad's birthday.
Then four days later it's my sister's birthday.


Full steam ahead.


Tiny is home sick today. Sick. Yes. I use that phrase loosely. She was sent a gift from Moose - Stick-A-Lulus. She's just been sticking Stik-A-Lulu stickers all over the house. All. Over. The. House. They are now approximately everywhere. 


Tiny loves her some mischief. 


The Doctor will be chuffed. He had a hissy fit yesterday - because everyone got something except him (Matt got a lightbulb, I got a pair of socks, and Tiny got some shoes because she only had sandals). He got some Trash Packs. There'll be great joy today after so much stinking six year old emo going on yesterday. 

Happy 4th Birthday Dear Blog

Dear PottyMouthMama Readers,


It's four years since I first conceived PottyMouthMama. Actually, it's a little longer, because I dreamt her up, then stored her in my dream factory* and let her simmer, and then banged out my very first post.

It's four years since PottyMouthMama came screeching into the world, to bang on about anything and everything - and whatever else is in between.

I love my little space that I've carved out almost every single day. In four years I have met so many ace people, stretched my writing fingers, dreamt up posts and made a little space just for me. To share with you.


It's true. Tonight you should totes have champagne and cake to celebrate. I command you.

Thanks for reading, for commenting and for lurking.

I love each and every one of you, more than every single grain of sand on every single beach in the world, the galaxy and beyond. I love you to the moon and back, and then back again, and then back again. And then back again - but in reverse. I love you that much.

Big love,
Lexi

* dream factory often works overtime, or undertime, but either way, it's always a-chugging along

This Is The Cake

Here she is, in all her pink and white polka dotted glory.

A Tiny Party

Yesterday we belatedly celebrated Tiny's birthday with a tiny party. A tiny Tiny party. Or is it a Tiny tiny party? Who knows. Either way, it was a party. For Tiny.

My sister kindly made the cutest teacups a la Tic Tocs - which were a huge hit with the tiny brigade, my mother-in-law made the most melt-in-your-mouth meringues, topped with fresh raspberries, and the birthday cake? Well I'll post a pic as soon as I have one. Promise.

I wound up finding pudding basins on Saturday morning, got them home, washed them - to discover they were microwave proof, but not oven-proof. Excuse me but WTF?! So it was back to the Dolly Varden drawing board.

I promise I will not talk Dolly Varden again after this post. I am probably making Dolly Vardens trend over on Twitter because I am banging on about them so much.

I had a hoot making this cake. The DV tin did not yield a long enough frock, so I baked an additional round cake and added a longer hem (ahem) on the bottom. Who do I think I am? Suzie Seamstress? Yes. Apparently. I then cut it down to fit with the frock, stuck them together with buttercream, and then got to decorating.

Tiny walked in halfway through and told me it looked ugly.

YES! High fives all 'round.

Then she came back later and was stoked. Phew.

She had such a brilliant time at her little party, played parcel the parcel, pin the tail on the donkey, musical snatues (sic), and decorated cupcakes. Too cute.

At bed time she said: "Mama, that was the best party ever." And then didn't go to sleep for another 2 hours.

Summer Divine

We're celebrating Tiny's birthday late this weekend, with a wee tiny party.

The problem I face is that we've gone from a Dolly Varden birthday cake - and all the anxiety I drummed up in my head about that, to finally coming to a place of calm, and thinking, YES I can do it. To right here, right this minute, Tiny wants the Magic Toadstool cake (as shown below). I only have one pudding basin, and despite having called a heck of a lotta kitchenware stores this afternoon, can not locate the right sized basins.

I broke the news to Tiny that it was Dolly Varden all the way, and her little face looked so disappointed.

If I do not make the Magic Toadstool cake, and instead make the Dolly Varden cake, does that make me a candidate for The Worst Mother In The World Award?

And in the event that I do happen to stumble upon the correct sized pudding basins, where am I going to find those pint-sized fairies?

Help a white girl out!

As an aside, see my smalls post-swim? They just adore being wrapped up tight and being called hot dogs. They are two crazy little cats.

And on the flip-side, if I do do the Dolly Varden thing - what doll do I use?

This Is 4

Yesterday my darling Tiny turned four. I guess she's not Tiny anymore, but she will always be my wee babe. She swam into this world, a baby mermaid, four years ago.

We enjoyed the day home together. I took the day off - last year I was at work - and it pained me greatly to be away from her on her birthday. So we hung out yesterday. Ate a lazy breakfast. I took the Doctor to school for his last day of Kindergarten. We went out for morning tea. Perused a bookshop. And ended the day by going to our local Chinese restaurant - just the four of us.

We came home, and because of my 'Je suis la fatigue' (Dad, that was for you), I hadn't mustered the energy to make a cake.

Sorry Tiny.

But we did have a Freddo icecream cake and the smalls had a hoot finding Freddo heads, managing to go through three rounds of cake before I said 'Enough my little friends!'.

Today I will make up for my non-cake baking by making her: a pink, and purple, and blue cake - by popular demand. My stomach is turning at the idea of all that food colouring.

 To my wee babe - I'm ever grateful that you're in our lives. You are funny, clever, cuddly, smart and oh-so-cute. You're a dancer, a mermaid, a puppy, a catty, a princess - you are the bomb Tiny. I loved one, two and three, and I know four is going to be super.

Stuff

It's the pointy end of the year and it's really starting to hurt.

I ran around all weekend, and on my day off, I think I spent more time in the car than anywhere else. And I've still got shopping to do.

My body even aches!

But onwards I go - and so do you friends, because that's what we do.

Tiny celebrates her fourth birthday on Friday and I can barely believe it's been four years since that little mermaid swam into the world. Probably time for another baby. Matt. Hear that??

The Doctor had his school presentation tonight, and received a citizenship award. Of course I got teary. I was already teary when the Kindy + Year One choir sand 'True Colours'. The Doctor's award tipped me over the edge. Proud.

Did I tell you I shrunk in the wash? Yep. And I dyed my hair red. Hawt or what?

I don't really have much else to report on.

Oh - and yet I do. We got our Christmas tree on the weekend. I spent Saturday afternoon decorating it, a bit baffled the smalls weren't interested in helping, but I kept on humming away with the dazzle and sparkle. That night, after it was looking perfect, the damn thing fell over. Yes. You can only imagine my glee. So I went and bought a proper Christmas tree holder thing. This is an investment my friends, but worth it. The tree is - VERTICAL! Be amazed. Be astounded.

Have you decorated?

Tiny In Jeans

Be amazed peeps, be surprised! BEHOLD! Tiny in a pair of jeans. Can you imagine my girl in denim? Nup. Me neither. But here she is. I bribed her with 50 cents to put them on. Bribery. Corruption. Denim delights!

Tiny turns four in a few weeks and I must get organised before everyone gets caught up in Christmas shenanigans and we miss the birthday boat. Peep peep!

Months ago we perused ye olde favourite Australian Women's Weekly cake cookbook (who doesn't remember good times daydreaming about these cakes?), and Tiny requested the Dolly cake. Let's see how that goes.

This party is going to be so fun! Pink-a-licious and fairies. I am excited peeps!

This week for me is all about organisation. I'm getting organised for the birthday party, and getting in early on my Christmas shopping so I can say boo yar to the heaving Christmas crowds. Have you started prepping for Christmas yet?

Day 28 of Frocktober: Heading To Woodstock

I'm starting to wrap up Frocktober. I'm a little bit too excited to get back into my jeans. Hold onto your skirts ladies - still 3 glorious days of frocks to go. Plus my sister's birthday dinner tonight. What will I wear?

Before I decided to do Frocktober, I went on a wee shop to update my wardrobe. I bought new jeans, and some new floaty pant things, and haven't been able to wear them. Every time I see them in my wardrobe, a small part of me dies. Which is good, because then without those bits of me, I will be able to fit back into them.

I'll catch up with my frocking posts this weekend. Promise.

It's Official!

It's my birthday! Yep - and as my Dad would say, ALL DAY!

Only2.75 hours to go.

Hot damn!

I've had three sittings of birthday cake.

Birthday messages.

Some glasses of champagne.

Some phone conversations.

And now damn blogger won't let me add a photo.

Please forgive me for this post sans photo! It's my birthday. You can forgive anything! Yes! Yes you can!

PS - PR companies and advertisers - I don't swap links, I'm not interested. Thanks BUT no thanks!

PPS - I got an image on. Yahoo!

Post-Party Malaise

You know that anti-climax after all the anticipation. Sunday afternoon and BOOM! I was lying horizontal on the couch, feeling a bit blue that it was all over. Relieved, but a bit sad that it was done and dusted.

The only thing to bolster everyone's spirits is the amount of party food still kicking around here. I may have to secretly dispose of it.

Here are some snaps from the day.

Matt drew the donkey for 'Pin the tail on the donkey'.

The Doctor either feeling sick. Or peeved after 'Pass the Parcel'. Can't figure out which. But cute nonetheless.

My bro-in-law with my cute-to-boot niece walking back to Party Central.

My sister has more shots including 'The Cake'. Will share once I have them in my hot little hands.

Now We Are Six

This time six years ago I was in pre labour. I walked over a kilometre to the supermarket to buy lemons to make Labouraid. I dropped into the DVD store to hire Sex and the City. I stood next to the rows of DVDs in a contraction and rode out that wave. I walked over a kilometre home, stopping intermittently as the intensity increased. I imagined that small babies head knock-knock-knocking on my cervix. I am the Queen of visualisation, thank you Marie Burrows.

I got home. I squeezed those lemons. I made the Labouraid. I spilt it all over the kitchen floor. Later it would explode over the floor of my sister's car on the ride to the birthing centre. Sorry about that, Choc.

I ate spaghetti bolognaise. I went to bed. I vomited up spaghetti bolognaise. I woke up later. I went into a darkened room. Matt turned the light on. I turned the light off. Matt turned the light on. I turned the light off. I laboured at home. The intensity turned up a notch or two. Matt turned on the light. I turned off the light and screeched "YOU BETTER START ANTICIPATING MY NEEDS!"

Matt called the midwife. The midwife told us to wait. I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Mother's instincts. My sister arrived. We three drove like the clappers at 5am down the highway, to the birthing centre, behind a garbage truck, in half light, into the tunnel, we drove. Every bump I felt as I continued riding those contractions.

We arrived and I tore off my clothes. It was all I could do. I got into that delicious bath. I laboured. We waited. Matt went to sleep. Matt woke up. I got too relaxed and my contractions stopped. I had to get out of the bath. I pushed. Two hours of pushing. I got tired. I screamed "COME ON!" like Lleyton Hewitt. And then I held that wee baby, I held that warm, beautiful, loved baby against my chest. That warmth.

I'd do it all again in a heartbeat for my beautiful soon-to-be six year old. My delightful, talkative, bright six year old.

Birthdays

It's both of my boys birthdays this week.

One more sleep until Matt's.

Four more sleeps until the Doctor's.

Sixth birthday party in six sleeps. I haven't even researched the cake PEEPS!

I feel woefully unprepared.

I just have to watch Offspring. Then I can start wrapping (not to be confused with rapping - because some of them try to rhyme but they can't rhyme like this, some of them try to rhyme but they can't rhyme like THIS!).