Archives for category: out and about



















It came at me like a roller coaster but it only felt like a whisper.

One year with out my dad. One year of not having the man who taught me about the ocean, the reason I love Jackson Browne, where I got my curls from, where my sense of humour came from, why I nickname everyone, the reason I know lord of the rings so well, the person I ask about gardening. One year with out him.

I woke early on Tuesday, like the wind had slapped me. I literally woke coughing. The sun was creeping in and I could feel the tears weighing behind my eyes. Indi woke early too, only minutes later. Which (luckily for me) is unusual. Not being at home, I went in and picked her up. She snuggled in straight away. As I brought her back to bed, Aidan woke too. Despite the heavy feeling with in, I was surrounded by love exactly when I needed it. The heavy moved back into the shadows.

It wasn’t a day for tears, for that I am thankful. It wasn’t a day for dredging up dark wet piles of grief either. It was just a day. A day that made us think fondly of a man who was our world. So I did. I smiled and loved, I lived and I was still in my moment. I was still enough to absorb the memories, to cherish what I once had.

I was determined to take dads paddle board out. The weather was looking pretty crappy though, and it Aidan was trying to convince me otherwise. Quoting disgraceful 90’s songs I told him ‘Aint nothing gonna break my stride’ I was going paddle boarding. It was happening.

My dad always said that you can always find a beach that fits the purpose, you just gotta look. He was a surfer who knew more about swell and tides and waves and wind than anyone I know (although I don’t know any weather men personally, I’m told my dad was a bit if a whiz at this stuff). True to his word, Albany handed me that beach on a silver platter.

Aidan carried the board down to the beach (have you seen the size if a paddle board? They are huge. I can’t even reach the top of the car to touch the board let alone get it down). I was totally prepared to fall off and make a giant idiot of myself. A few of the other people on the beach must have thought so too because they decided to call out a few non encouraging words. Just to make them feel bad, I didn’t fall off. And had I not been focusing hard on balancing I would have yelled back some if their not so nice things and pulled fingers as I did it. Up your bum old bitter beach goers, I totally got this shit!

Indi crawled into the water, fully clothed. Not really what we were prepared for. She also climbed up on to the board and then proceeded to dive in to the water head first off the board. All this was unassisted mind you. The kid is part mermaid. She loved the water, crawling and splashing about. Not too impressed with her salt rash though, but easily pleased once more by sitting under the tap as I washed the sand off my feet.

I feel whole again after taking the board out. Feel like I spent time with my dad. It was nice to do something that we would have done together, had he been here. Comforting almost.

So the day didn’t suck. It was nice, good, normal even. Which in itself feels weird and brings a wave of guilt. But for now that is enough. Just enough so I can hang up my big winter grief coat until I need it next.

Thank you for your kind thoughts, all received with a grateful heart.

Much love peeps xxx

I am sometimes shocked by how incredibly selfish and unaware people are of their surroundings. Caught up in their own world and their own selfish wants, putting themselves first in every situation.

Going to the shopping center is beginning to make me anxious. I’m worried that I’m going to run into these horrible people. I’m not worried that they will be selfish and obnoxious, gosh no, I’m aware that that will happen regardless. I’m worried I’m going to shoot my mouth off, using expletives and end up getting more worked up than really required.

Everyone has had the moment where you realize someone is coming straight towards you, in your direct line of travel. You might chose to swing right to give them some space, they swing left to give you space. You both awkward smile, say ‘sorry’ do the ‘which way to I go’ shuffle and then carry on with your shopping. Happens to the best of us. Its a shoppers right of passage.

Its the arrogant ones that make my skin crawl. The ones that take up the whole walking space, see you directly coming towards them. You do the swing to the right to allow them some room (knowing too well that even with the swing, they will have to move too otherwise no one gets through), they don’t make any allowances, so when they go past they bump in to your shoulder, give you an evil look and grumble under their breath. YOU DO NOT OWN THIS FREAKING SPACE YOU POOS!

I understand its school holidays and the natural order of shopping centers, parks, beaches etc are completely thrown in to chaos. But its not the parents or the kids at fault. Its the regulars.

– Nanna ‘these children are so rude’ and Grandad ‘I hate shopping’

– Shirt and tie guy ‘get outta my way, I want my effing subway and you are wasting valuable smoking time’

– Pencil skirt lady ‘if you touch my country road skirt, I will turn you to stone’

– Obligatory 20 something preggo ‘CLEARLY I NEED TO PEE, GET THE FRICK OUT OF MY WAY’

– Obligatory lady with a pram ‘I have a pram, YOU will move for ME’

– Sullen 20 something geek ‘no one notices me, so if you need me I’ll be looking at the ground’

– 30 something tradie ‘effing hell, I need a pie, a coke, some chips and a coffee and I don’t have time for this shit’

Normally I can handle all of these people. But coming up to holiday time I’m becoming increasingly aware that we are living in a world where lack of manners is the norm. For example, Today I was in Woolworths. I was at the check out, Indi in my arms (she has a new trick now, if you dont strap her in she will twist herself around and climb up the pram. Oh yes so. much. fun. Therefore the hip seat becomes the chosen method of travel), all my groceries where on the conveyor belt and the pram was in front of me (I’m always conscious not to take up too much space with the pram, I dont want to be the obligatory lady with a pram). Any way, my left side of my body was leaning against the check out and I had Indi on my right hip. I couldn’t be taking up any less space, when a little old lady, smaller than me with white hair barged past. She bumped me on my right shoulder and nearly pushed Indi out of my hold. The white haired witch (yes I would prefer to call her more inappropriate names) didn’t turn to say sorry, just continued on her way.

Does this not piss you off. If I wasn’t checking to see if Indi was ok, I know that little old lady would have copped a serve of parental venom (on a side note I have seen Aidan tell someone off for bumping the pram before, hell hath no fury like Indi’s daddy hehe hehe). The thing is, had she turned and apologized I would have thought nothing of it. But because she didn’t, I’m pissed as hell.

Manners mean the world to me. They were a given in my class room. I even tell Aidan off when he doesn’t say please. But to see all this arrogance really gets to me. Being rude and obnoxious is contagious. If it gets the desired result, others begin to copy and I do not want my kids growing up that way.

We decided, well before we were even planning to have children, that our kids would have manners. Yes we have been to little kids parties and have seen the select few rude children that decide that although it was not their birthday, they still deserved to open and play with the presents. And we had put our noses in the air at the parents that allowed this to happen. We have also seen little kids push other kids off play equipment in order to have their go sooner. Once again throwing judgement at the parents, watching as this took place. Not only would our future kids not be seen as rude or selfish, we would not be judged by our children’s lack of manners.

Why does it get to me? How does this downward spiral of society get under my skin and itch so bad? I know that if I get worked up in the moments that I see it take place, that I will snap. But that makes me just as bad. How can you tell a grown adult off for their lack of manners? And how do you make them realize their behavior is inappropriate? I know I will end up angry and snarly, rude and obnoxious. Becoming what I really hate. How do I stand up for something that I believe in with out becoming a hypocrite. ‘Do on to others, as you would have them do to you’ doesn’t seem to apply here, as I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m already doing, and whats already being ignored.

As I prepare for my first holiday shopping season as a mother I can see 3 options . A) choose all my gifts in advance and design a route through out the shopping centers with the least amount of travel between destinations, allowing myself only to shop when someone is babysitting the tiny human. B) do all my gift shopping online, leading to an increased percentage of personal gifts for myself and an increased credit card bill. Or C) suck it up and deal with it, people are all poos at Christmas anyway.

Anyway here’s wishing you much less over dramatized future shopping adventures.

Much love peeps xxx

Should you ever require a butt operation, I highly recommend my hospital. With the luxury of private health cover (due to the stupid taxation department and the insistence of parents), I have spent quite a bit of time here at St John of God Subi. I had Indi here almost 8 months ago, a five day stay post emergency c-section, with not an ounce of pain, gorgeous nurses, yummy food and a queen size, yes queen size bed. 7 weeks later I had an over night stay due to a breast abscess (my child was a messy eater from the get go), once again it was pretty dang comfy, they even brought in a cot for Indi, who stayed with me because I was still breast feeding*. This time its a three day stay, the loveliest nurses, DELICIOUS food and a room all my my lonesome. The place is pretty sweet.

I must admit that I have been slightly disappointed with the play by play of my latest stay. My expectations were a tad grand. In my head an operation on my cheeks (technically its just one) involved a bucket load of pain and me being limited in my range of movement due to my butt being in the air (think- scrubs style comedy sketch with patient in randomly placed casts, strung from a series of pully systems- my brain is a comedy show gold mind). It was all a bit lack luster in reality.

I woke from my drugged up nap, only to have a little spew (always classy) and discover that I was laying on my back. The only thing hooked up to me was an IV, which was removed after the first night. As a bonus, I had full range of movement and could do as I pleased with in the room **. They kept offering me pain relief, of which I found I didn’t need. Not really the horrible, painful, humiliating hospital stay I had planned.

Oh and I’ve learnt a few things being here too. They have a butt ward. Yes a butt ward. I’m on the butt ward. When I discovered this today I was pretty chuffed. I’m hanging with my homies over here. I didn’t have to stress that the nurses were all gossiping about me behind my back “no you go and change the dressing on the crazy ladies butt, I want to hold the newborn”. Yes, I worry about people trash talking my bottom. I’m only human. And to my great delight I am some what a novelty on my ward. By far the youngest, with a not so hard core bottom issue. One day I will get that put on a badge.

This evening I asked my lovely nurse ‘Kerri’ how it is one comes to be on a butt ward. I know if it was me I couldn’t imagine being in a room and jumping up and down saying ‘pick me, pick me’ when asked who wants to deal with the poo end of a human. Kerri explained that the nurses on the bottom and vagina ward (yeah I said it, I’m a health teacher, I can totally say vagina) –insert gasp VAGINA AS WELL– are some of the most skilled nurses due to the level of the complications, pain, specifics, delicateness and embarrassment of their clients. Translated, that means I have some of the best nurses tending to my hiney.

The stay isn’t horrible, most of the time I’m left to chill by myself because I am the least demanding patient. I like that. I actually napped today. I read a book today. I may have eaten a small block of chocolate today. If I could get a pedicure, it could almost be classified at a holiday.

So this is a shout out St John of God Subiaco. As much as I have ‘loved’ hanging out, it would be real nice if we didn’t see each other until I pump out some more tiny humans.

Much love peeps xxx

Side notes:* Yes I am a freaking mamma machine. Child first. My only motto. **Tempting as it is, I resisted the urge to do yoga with an open arse wound.

Fyi I’m a bit bored. Missing my little girl and wishing my tookus was a little less sore.

St John of God Subiaco Hospital is super lovely (its the only hospital I’ve ever been admitted to, and I’ve been here 3 times in the last 7 and 1/2 months). Movie channels and 3 course meals, lovely staff and private rooms. However, I’m not used to still, or quiet or slow. So I get bored. And I take photos. This is my stay so far.

Pretending I’m on holiday












waiting, waiting, waiting…












in the matrix
























I’d pack you if I could chick pea












After this point there was a whole lot of waiting (wearing some killer disposable undies big enough to fit a gorilla, and no I am not gorilla sized), about an hour in surgery and a fairly restless night.

Visits from a very wriggly (tiny) wonder woman












my loves












wonder woman got super duper excited












my current entertainment (yes I did steal somebunny for my own attachment issues)













Not exactly a party up in my room at the moment. But Aidan brought chocolate, I have books and magazines and the telly, so I’ll get by. Funny enough though, I’d much rather go for a walk?! Oh well. Best rest up while I can.

Much love peeps xxx











Our trip away was super fun. We hung out with the most lovely little family ever. A beautiful couple and there little rock star son Edison, who is just a month older than Indi. They very graciously allowed us to piggyback on their holiday/honeymoon. Yeah, pretty bloody fabulous people huh? They took the grandparents too, so we took my mum also. Holiday, with mates, plus baby sitters…. booyah!

It was gorgeous to see Indi play with little Ed each day. She learnt way too much from hanging with that little dude. After a week with him she has come home crawling, climbing and eating SOOOOOOOO much. All great milestones yes, but its blowing my mind how much they learn from each other. Personally I learnt a lot too, holidaying with Super mum (yeah I know a whole lot of super mums, may end up getting an inferiority complex one day). Super mum came on holiday with a nasty bout of mastitis (ouch you say). From her I found confidence in my “mumming”, learnt handy tricks about feeding tiny humans, and found myself in awe of her devoted parenting skills. She shared her swim teaching tricks for Indi in the pool, she walked (trekked) Ed every morning before breakfast, basically she put everything else before herself on her own honeymoon. Selfless? Amazing. I felt very lucky to be on holiday with her (and her gorgeous family).

I’m now going to hit you with more gorgeous photos of our time away. Take note at how adorable Indi and Ed look together.

As you can see the week was lovely. Babies and sun and the pool and the view. Could not ask for more.

Much love peeps xxx

Don’t you just love holidays?¬† You only know its lunch time because your belly is telling you your hungry and to leave the pool. Pointless crap becomes desirable, even though at home you would have never even considered purchasing a giant rainbow colored pirate ship kite (hindsight is kicking my ass, of course I need one, put that in the ‘reasons to go back to Bali’ list). You begin with dreams of soaking up culture, but in the end turn into the ultimate tourist and chose burgers and pizzas, because you ‘hardly ever’ have them back home (who the hell are you kidding fatty?). You have no idea what the date is, you refer your time on holiday as “x amount of time till you we go home’. And when you get home you pretty much start every sentence with ‘In {insert destination here} they/we/she/he/…’ and to top it off the days smoosh together when you try to recount various holiday stories. Man I love holidays.

But, alas, we are home again. Tiny human is super tired and no doubt missing her pool. There are suitcase exposions all over the house and the washing pile is ginormous. Back to reality.

I have about a million fabulous things to blog (brag) about, but I’m just gonna hit you all with a few pictures, to make you start considering/dreaming/planning/get excited for your own trip to Bali.




















































Of course I’ll post more later this week. However there are much more pressing things on the agenda, getting some food for the house, catching up on the laundry and having a cuppa.

Much love peeps xxx

So this is only about 2 months late. My bad.

Prelude: Holiday was booked roughly 5 months before travel. What ensued was 5 months of freaking out, a whole lot of research, a million questions and over preparing.

So how did I pull it off? I have no idea. But here’s some of the things I put in place to make my holiday easier.

On the plane:

  • I booked travel times that linked up to nap times. Making sure we got a little break from crazy plane buzzing baby.
  • I brought a few new toys hoping they would be interesting enough to distract tiny human for a portion of time. Crazy babe found more fun in the emergency instructions and the people sitting behind us.
  • We used a dummy to help with the cabin pressure on her ears (sucking helps stop the blocked ear feeling). We were also prepared with her sippy cup and her bottle if the dummy didn’t work. The dummy was pretty awesome. She managed to sleep through take off on the first trip and stayed calm through landings (Side note: Indi was officially weaned as soon as she got home, we are dummy FREE since October, Whoo hoo).

Food and Sterilization:

Just before we went to bali, we finished up with breast feeding. The choice was not made for the holiday, it just happen to be that our holiday was the week before a 4 day stay in hospital. Unfortunately it meant that bottles were required for every feed. On top of that, Indi had gotten to the age where she has 3 meals a day, plus a few snacks. Needless to say I turned into a crazy lady, freaking out about my poor child starving or getting sick. I used:

  • Sterilization bags: pop your plastic wear, bottles and utensils in the reusable bags, chuck the bag in the microwave and presto – clean stuff (we didn’t have a microwave to use, but what ev’s). Take a cheap bottle brush with you: at least you know your doing it properly.
  • Water purification tablets: Worried about water quality for baths? Or cleaning? Problem solved.
  • For food I made sure I had enough baby sachets and jars for 2 days longer than we were staying. In case her appetite changed or increased (I also made sure it was stuff I knew she would eat, no point trying new food when your not sure if you can find a replacement).
  • I also introduced Indi to watermelon rockmelon, paw paw and strawberries before we left. All fruits readily available at most continental breakfasts over in Bali. Sneaky mum made sure she grabbed a little extra fruit in the morning to help cool off crazy babe when she got warm later in the day.

Travel and Transport:

We booked our transfers through Bali Baby Hire. So easy. Waiting for us when we got there. Air con, car seat and cold water. It made for one very very happy baby. The little van was nice and high up and Indi was in a later model car seat, so she could see everything. She was giggling and talking the whole way to the hotel. We hired a pram from the same company. I can’t say that I used it enough really. Indi prefered to be carried (she hated missing out on anything) and many of the sidewalks weren’t really pram friendly. That said, I didn’t venture too far from the pool or the cocktails so my opinion isn’t one of too much worth on that subject.

The rest:

Purchasing a bucket is never a bad thing. For $2, my bali bucket has saw a whole lot of action in five short days. Washing clothes, grotty bibs, bottles, carried shopping and entertained two littles. On top of that it can be given to somebody in need when we leave. Thank you blue bucket, you have served us well.

Bali has WAY TOO MANY baby stores/places to buy baby clothes. If your thinking about coming to Bali, bring two outfits for your tiny human, then spend an hour or two shopping. By the end of those two hours you should have enough for the entire summer season. All fabulous light cotton pretties. And super affordable. Just be sure there is plenty of room in the suitcase for purchases (or find someone else to bring your gigantic pile of baby stuff home. Like I did. Thanks Mum.).

We were lucky enough to share our holiday with like minded people, who made the trip so much easier. More than one baby was entertainment in itself, for us, the babes, the other guests and the hotel staff.

Balinese are gorgeous and just adore babies. They were super gentle and always so helpful. We stayed in a small hotel in Legian. Our room was baby monitor distance from the restaurant (score). The monitor was handy for day time naps, we got one with the longest range. It gave us that little bit more freedom while knowing that Indi bum was ok. We were able to have lunch, or laze by the pool (I was NOT ok doing anything more than that, and did regular check ins. Regardless of the freedom I was still a mum).

If your thinking about taking your babe to Bali but are freaking out, just do it. I doubt you will freak out as much as me, I doubt you will pack, and re-pack, and over pack and re-pack as much as me. I did it, and managed to have fun. You will too.

I’m so ready to do it all over again.

Much love peeps xxx

We’re here. After months of stress, we actually made it. And it couldn’t be more fabulous.






Shit just got real over here.



%d bloggers like this: