Photo/Glass Challenge

I did the photo after each glass of wine challenge. Okay, it’s not even a challege, whatevs.

First pic. It was still daylight and the kids were lighting shit on fire.

Husband made me laugh, I was not actually this happy after a second (small) glass of wine. 

This was after I went inside for the good (ish) lighting and more wine.

Yes, I’m this happy but I was texting my friend about getting high, so.
Going to bed, now, perchance to dream or passout.

Actually no, Husband said NUMBER FOUR so here we are. Stay tuned…
I don’t feel like accepting a fourth glass was necessary (also pics at night w the flash, whatever), but a good thing to come of this course of events is that the electric blanket has been on for that much longer…

Another Vagina Craft

K, so I had another vagina craft and it was wonderful.

It’s Thursday so less people could come, ha! But I hope and I think that the people who did, had a fun time. Wine, cupcakes, crackers and aphrodisiacs, usually equal a good time. We were also productive

And shiny

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Kung Fu Shiss

Always says hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Today we are hoping that friends turn up, but we are prepared to rock out on our own if necessary.

It’s still snow central here in the Willamette Valley and the temp is laying low.

6yo decided on a Kung Fu birthday party since we watched the first series on disc from the library and as usual, I’m pretty pleased with what I’ve managed to deliver.

Paper lanterns, reminiscent of a Chinese village and the Shaolin Temple nearby. We have candles set out but I forgot the incense. Luckily, 6yo is not incensed. 

I looked up some sweet moves REX KWON-DO style on you tube and found some vids for the animal movements of Kung Fu, and I’m sure husband will be fab instructing the “pupils” when he is wearing his Kung Fu Master hat.

Note my sweet king fu tatt? I even found a large pot for the kids who make it to test themselves and earn their very own, Kung Fu style.

Cupcake holders. 

There are even some with actual cupcakes in them. I found some cool dragon rings from a party store and bought some diy temporary tattoo paper from amazon. It totally works!

I decided against shipping large quantities of sand into the playroom to make a desert, like 6yo wanted, deciding instead, to buy more wine in case we can’t get out of the driveway later.

And there you have it, in a nutshell, a Kung Fu birthday party.  Caine would be hsppy to attend if he hadn’t been cut down by Uma Thurman. Rest in pieces Bill.

Make Vaginas Not War

And drink wine while you do it.

Twat a fun night haha!

Etsy shops have fabulous vagina-themed everything, and after celebrating the work that my vagina did 8 years ago a couple of months back by eating leftover cake after middle child’s birthday, I kept the joke rolling by googling vagina stuff. 

And then the idea of a  vagina xmas decorations craft night, or #vajornaments, as one of my #vagcrew coined the term, was born, and it was a bruiser!

Cue the same in two weeks when the littlest turns six, post Kung Fu party, it will be time to celebrate my old girl again. 

May your jangle jingle, this entire holiday season.

Celebrating Me, Too.

‘Cause let’s face it: yes, my adorable middle child had a birthday and subsequent party, but I did all the work, both days. 

He was 7 weeks early and had his first bath at home in a salad bowl.

Those are my hands

He was in the hospital for 3 weeks to make sure of the body temp and breathing etc. Nothing was wrong with him. I used a jellybean sling to carry him around sometimes and people thought it was a handbag, that there couldn’t be a baby in there.

And now he’s 8.

He finally decided on a Clutch Powers birthday party, because mainstream themes are for suckers, obvs.

Clutch is like Indiana Jones, an adventurer who prefers to work alone but who finds out that teams work really well, too. The trick is to make games etc to keep 20+ kids occupied.

Crystals. Clutch Powers finds crystals called “brickonium” to power Lego City, so I made my own. They took ages to grow and I think I had the wrong brand of alum powder because apparently that makes a difference, sometimes.

resoaked them a number of times, massive pain in the ass.

Our intrepid party-goers had to find “brickonium” which was smattered over the front yard, in order to power up the oven for that old chestnut, the birthday cake. Kids were off and the parents had a bit of quiet once more in which to enjoy our drinks.

Nobody said anything; I may never use icing/frosting again

Clutch Powers inadvertently assists a criminal escape from a jail planet and has to recapture him.

Not sure how we will incorporate a delapidated trampoline into the next party

Clutch has to help Prince Varen fulfill his destiny by defeating Malek The Malign with his father’s golden sword, so the intrepids had to show him how wield one.

And then they had to find the pieces of golden sword (lego) to reforge it, but they were hidden around Malek’s fortress. 

Anyhoo the kids won the day and then they watched the movie. Peace and quiet, at last.
So how did I celebrate my hard work? Cake and wine, duh, all week, because all of them are in full-day school. Woo!

What Constitutes Romance?

Husband sulks off to bed mumbling about lost romance while I lay face down on the couch, farting myself stupid because there were onions on my burger and now my life is ruined.
But what is romance?
‘Tis but an idea of a feeling when near someone else. A glance, a touch, a whisper. I googled it and the top few results were “feelings of”. And then there’s the kissing and the hand-holding and the progressing from there.
What has romance been for me, besides not using the bathroom with the door open? Recently, being a mid-30s woman has not required much romance but before that, well I can’t remember what constituted romance so I looked on my phone for pics but there was only 39,002 pictures of me and the boys with a sprinkling of photos of Husband in there occasionally.
But getting an awesome haircut was sexy, which led to romance. Watching Vikings together with the bared chests and long hair and whatnot led to some romance.

Going along with my crackpot schemes is a large, blinking neon sign of a wonderful partner, but it isn’t necessarily romantic per se.

“Flowers, chocolate, promises you don’t intend to keep” are all pretty standard, but can be more exciting when they are initiated by one’s very own beast.

In the beginning, our romance was via text because Husband had an operation and was out of commission for a bit. The texts were not romantic but I’m pretty sure they had us both thinking along romantic lines. I bought him flowers in hospital, he told his sister to beat it, there must have been some romance on top of the hospital linens until the nurse told me to beat it.
He wrote me a poem once, that was romantic. He bought me flowers a number of times, definitely romantic
(and I get even better tokens of love now that I’ve produced heirs). He’d call me all the freaking time (still does) just to chat. I call that romantic because it didn’t end with one of us in jail.
So what has constituted romance for me are actions which create feelings. These feelings reinforce pair ponding so parents will take better care of offspring so that they in turn will become romantic individuals who create future pair bonds and further their species.
So it’s true, romance is a feeling.

Mother’s Loads

Mothering is a tough gig, and I say that as only a mother can whilst saying nothing at all of people who may or may not be fathering, parenting or child-rearing in any other form. I am merely speaking from my own experience and blah blah blah.
My kombucha mother has been fading away into despair and desolation for a few months and I have cast mine eye upon her only occasionally when rooting around the pantry, but only today did I act on my thoughts to rehydrate the poor thing. And not half an hour later, she started to revive. We’ll see if she produces anything worth drinking any time soon, or if she punishes me for a few weeks first with piss and literal vinegar.
I experienced the same forlorn malady this afternoon after a long day with my excitable children and my first cup of wine, so revived!

The only one bigger is the novel by Stephen King and a big tent in middle earth.
My parents are flying back to Australia tomorrow and they did us a solid amount of babysitting – grandparenting, if you will – and so tomorrow we bid them adieu.
Someone else who is gearing up for babysitting/parenting/stealing the younguns is Mabel, our resident grandmotherly chicken. Princess Fiona has been nurturing her eggs for about two weeks I think, so soon enough, the boys and I will be listening at the doors

for the pitter patter of tiny feet and adorably small chirping, whilst simultaneously trying to keep Mabel occupied in the yard so the littles can get acquainted with their mother rather than the mother being edged out by a clucky Mabel, even though she won’t sit on any clutch of eggs of her own. Anyways, we’re all very excited at the probability of babies, except for Husband because he’s all about mouths to feed and other whatevs economies and etc. 5yo was telling me today all about where the eggs come from and where they go and how they grow, and when he was a baby and I brought him out to see the baby chicks. If for no other reason than that, I am excited for the babies. Lifecycles, that’s what my peeps are talking ’bout!
Here’s to the mothers!

Just Say No


Don’t do it. Don’t get married and don’t have kids. Stay young and beautiful and naive and do what you want and don’t get grey hair and tired.

Disclaimer: reading a book about cheating husbands whilst stuck in a broken down bus on the side of I5 with kids who won’t shut the fuck up or leave each other alone.

Je Suis Desolate

So this trip will be quite different from my last and especially the beginning – because there are no bicep curls this time! I have a hat box full of hats rather than books (I only brought one book with me and it’s paperback!) and my case is a rolling dream,

rather than stunning and heavy AF vintage. Also, the flight is in the a.m. and is with Husband rather than my own self.


Husband and I are heading to Quebec  for our 10th wedding anniversary (April) while my parents are in town, so we know the boys are in good hands. They will be clean and ready for action when we get back on the weekend.
(It’s currently 7.15 and Husband just suggested I grab a glass of champagne if you’re wondering how this is going to go)
Husband gave up his upgrade to stay with me at the back of the plane. He definitely loves me. He was rewsrded with a beer from the guy who got his 1st class seat.
We watched Deadpool on the first flight in tandem, pausing the ads so we could be in sync, it was super romantic. Afterwards when Husband took a nap, I refrained from jamming my fingers into his mouth, because I love him, too.
Later, I started reading a new book because I’m midway through The Fireman and it’s too heavy to bring as baggage if I finish it in a day; Husband was reading a draft of my novel and he’s enjoying it thus far. Maybe that’s because I named one of the characters after him or because he liked the sex scenes, maybe both of the above.

We finally arrived! Going to print off some phrases and then voila!