Deep breaths

This week my children have made me take so many deep breaths I could have blown up a hot air balloon by now…and it’s only Wednesday.

I am insane.

Insanely angry.
Insanely embarrassed.
Insanely tired.

I even called my Mum to bitch about my children. Which is rare.

Deeeeeepppp breathhsssss has been my mantra.

I have never understood the whole “must have wine to get through motherhood” thing.

Zero judgement, I wish I could drink my deep breaths away but I just cannot handle my alcohol since birthing my little assho….I mean angels.

But on Tuesday evening about 14 seconds after sending the boys upstairs for time out, I muttered to myself “holy shit I need some alcohol” and then my phone went “ding” and it was Mum, advising me to ask Dan to bring me home some wine. Cheers Mum. Spot on.

So this all started because Max had to go to the dentist.
I gave them a precautionary talking too before we went in & felt confident they would behave.

I was so sooooo deeply WRONG.

Here’s what happened in the less than 10 minutes that we were there:

• Max wouldn’t stop talking long enough for the dentist to examine him
• Arch took Minti’s toy off her
• Minti screamed LOUDLY
• Arch continued to irritate her          • Minti kept screaming loudly
• Max got off the chair mid examination to find something important in my bag
• Arch then climbed into the chair for his turn (it wasn’t his turn at all)
• Minti tried her hardest to push a chair through the window
• Max discovers the suction hose thingy & starts playing with it
• Arch found a stash of rubber gloves & throws them everywhere
• Max gets some purple dentist goop all over his hand & the linoleum floor                                      • Minti is opening & shutting draws
• Dentist is trying to have adult conversation about dental stuff with me, completely unfazed by my children’s behaviour
• I admit to her I’m not listening because I can’t concentrate with my wild animal children
• She rolls her eyes at me (no joke) and writes down info – cannot read her handwriting & suggests I come back another day….uh huh sureeeee
(So many more bad things happen, but I’m skipping them because I’m sure you get the drift…)

So we leave.

Once the door is closed behind us & I snap at them to hold hands so we can cross the road, they turn their little faces and say in unison “were we naughty?”
And I just ignore them knowing my rage needed to be confined to the car & not the road side.

I did my best not to yell.
And I succeeded until the end of my lecture when I was on the verge of tears so I turned the volume up to hide the cracking in my voice and just ended with
“I am so disappointed”
Boom, drop the mic.

Drove home in silence.
And possibly me having a little silent cry behind my sunnies.

Straight up for bath.
Down for dinner.
Up for teeth, toilet & bed.
Both asleep by 5:50pm.
No TV or favourite toys until the weekend.

When Dan got home, I was shaking with rage telling him what happened.
He was angry with them, but I think it seriously hit home with him just how hard it must be to leave the house & try to achieve anything substantial with three very “spirited” children.                           So props to me, and a nice tension headache to end the day.

Today. The day after.
My boys have been delightfully obliging & helpful.
Full of “I love you’s” and “your the best mum”
I haven’t had to repeat myself once, or nag…

It’s amazing what Mum rage can do.

I am still so utterly gobsmacked by their behaviour, it is so unlike them. And I mean that, they’re crazy and wild but historically in situations like that they are on their best behaviour.

But hey, maybe they just decided to test me this time?

Who knows….

But what I do know for sure is that I am never ever ever going to the dentist with three children again.
One at a time from now until they are old enough to drive their cute little bottoms there themselves.

Now I’m off to sleep, and when I say sleep I mean fight exhaustion because my beautiful 19 month old daughter has a serious case of sleep regression and is crazy for the boob…all night long….

Sweet dreams x

 

Cry me a river

 

I am a random crier.

The things that will make me cry one day will not even make me flinch the next.

Oh but when the flood gates do open, it’s ON, I let it flow like I am right smack bang in the midst of a terrible 2’s tantrum. But it’s not ever over one big thing, but more like after something big happened, then a couple of medium sized things follow and then all it takes is one small thing like me stubbing my toe and it’s all over red rover.

Or I get the crazy sentimental memory tears…which always confuse the people around me.

Like today I watched Celine Dion perform “my heart will go on” (when I was 11 and I would sing it imagining that I was Rose and Jack aka Leonardo DiCaprio would love me one day…stopped waiting about 10 years ago FYI) at the Billboard Music awards, I recorded the show just to watch her (and Cher)
And when Celine started getting emotional at the end of her song as she was receiving a standing ovation from her gazillion fans it made me tear up.
All of the emotion.
Or watching queen Cher come on stage at 71 (yes you read that correctly, seventy one) looking EPIC in her “turn back time” black sheer outfit and just killing it, you guessed it, I got teary.
Couldn’t even begin to explain why. It just touches my emotion bone, aka heart.

I will cry at every wedding I see. Real life, movie, tv show or reality show no matter how insincere or obscure…cue tears.

Terrorism. Enough said.

One of the most emotional days of my life was probably not what you’d expect….in 2011 Dan took me to see my idol Dolly Parton.
She started singing before the curtain even lifted and I was in hysterics, crying so hard the man beside me actually asked Dan if I was okay, and eventually moved seats.
Anyway this (my crying) went on basically through the entire show, and most of the drive home…and possibly sporadic moments in the following days (ahem weeks…months)

Another example is from tonight, I was mid conversation with Dan about something light hearted and a Qantas ad came on TV.
It was a woman celebrating her birthday, husband & children singing happy birthday, a cake, and her Mother is there via Skype. Then her husband surprises her with plane tickets to the UK to see her Mum, everyone cheers, cries, a business class plane ride later and we see an emotional reunion with her Mum at the airport. I just stopped dead in my tracks and started bawling my eyes out. Obviously I miss my mum & can relate as she lives a plane ride away in Victoria but holy cow it really hit my crying nerve. Dan just calmly said “are you crying about that happy ad?” I nodded with snot pouring out of my nose and he just pat my head as he walked past. He knows I’m okay, I was just having a moment, he’s witnessed these moments before many times.

Other times I will be mid fight with Dan and let me just say now, he is THE WORST person to argue with. He always tries to make me laugh when I am reaching peak Phoebe rage, and it makes it worse because I can’t help but laugh at him. And when I laugh he thinks he’s instantly off the hook, and then I get so mad at myself for laughing that I rage cry through clenched teeth and flap my arms around like a flightless bird.

I love a good cry, sometimes you just have to let it all out. It is so refreshing at certain times to just let everything go and let those tears flow.

But, I do not like crying in front of people. Not Dan, not my parents not my friends. Maybe if I was a pretty crier I wouldn’t mind, I put Kim Kardashian to shame, my face becomes scarily distorted and the snot bubbles start popping about 30 seconds in. But it’s not even the ugly cry I don’t want people to see, it’s that if I let my guard down enough and cry in front of someone I just won’t stop. It takes over my entire body and I cannot control myself.

Having said that, I love a good movie to get my cry on too. So here is my list of top 5 movies for your crying pleasure…

1. The Notebook – the old Noah & Allie break my heart
2. The Impossible – mega heaving tears (about the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami)
3. Steel Magnolias – Shelby, oh the heartbreak, never gets easier
4. Dead Poets Society – “O Captain, My Captain”
5. Marley & Me – ok ok, so this isn’t your typical sob story, but for any one who has loved a dog like a human it’ll have the tears flowing (Hachi is in the same rank for this one)

Originally this list was 15 movies deep but had to Shortlist it for those of you who haven’t got all day, your welcome.

What was the last thing you cried about???

31 Thank you’s

 

Over the years I have gifted my mum all of the classics for Mother’s Day, cook books, a mortar & pestle, more cook books, hand cream, perfume, jewellery, fluffy robes, fuzzy socks…you name it I’ve done it.

But this year, I haven’t even been able to get myself organised enough to send my mum a card this Mother’s Day, which is unforgivably slack of me.

So this will be my gift to Mum this  Mother’s Day….a thank you list, of allllll the things I really need to thank my darling Jilly Willy for.
• Firstly thank you for giving birth to the worlds best human (calm down Hamish, I’m talking about me, not you)

• For passing on your sense of humour & love of sarcastic humour to me

• For teaching me the importance of drinking 100 litres of water per day, and to never leave the house (even if it’s to take the Rubbish bins out) with out at least 2 bottles of water

• That sometimes throwing a few plates or mugs is good for the soul

• How to clean the kitchen sink properly. I now have OCD about my kitchen sink, so thanks (*sarcasm)

• Cotton is best, linen, undies, baby clothes…100% cotton always

• For having the answers to all of my health related questions any time of the day or night no matter how TMI they are

• When and how to unleash my inner bitch

• For not throwing me out the window when I was a baby with colic

• Teaching me to be practical

• Letting me whinge and bitch about anything and everything without a trace of judgement

• Being there to let me heal physically, mentally and emotionally after each of my babies were born, I actually couldn’t have survived those first weeks without you

• Always telling me I am beautiful even when I legitimately look and feel like shit

• Throwing me a princess party with all of my favourite things on my 30th birthday

• Encouraging my creativity, crazy ideas and wild escapades

• Laughing with me and at me

• Embracing my friends into our family wholeheartedly

• The importance of not wearing undies to bed (aka “airing your vagina” ~ a Jilly-ism)

• Referring to sex as “rrrrr-ing”

• Being the worlds most amazing grandmother

• For having the magic ability to turn the simplest ingredients into the most mouthwatering and comforting meals

• Never ending a phone call without saying “I love you”

• Embedding into my brain that all you want is for me (and Hamish) to be happy

• Being such an amazing role model for me, hard working, honest, loving, resilient, warm, generous and hilarious

• If you look after your things they will last, hand wash everything

• Making our home a home, wherever you live it’s always my home

• For teaching me that playing Dixie Chicks really loud is a great way to let your family know your in a bad mood

• For going without so Hamish and I never had too

• Being there when I need you most

• For asking me if I am coping at least once a week

• Allowing me to follow you around my house/your house talking at you, not too you
There are honestly 100 other things I could thank my mum for but I am just so thankful that Jilly is MY mum, and I only have to share her with my brother (and about a dozen if not more of our friends who have become adopted into our family over the years…you know who you are) 
I feel very lucky (maybe even #blessed) to have such an amazing woman as my mother, and my best friend.

I cannot imagine a life without her in it.

And I am this happily left of centre woman today because of your influence and love Mum.

So thank you, and 
Happy Mothers Day.

Mothers Day

 

Mothers Day.

My least favourite day of the year.

Yes I am the official Scrooge of The Blessed Day of Mothers….okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I’m definitely not a fan.

Dan and I chose to have children.
We wanted to be parents.
To be a Mum and Dad.
Our boys were planned.
2 babies in 2 years. Done.
And then came Minti, she was an accident or should I say “surprise”….just joking (not really).

B.C. (Before children) when I thought of Mother’s Day, I imagined my children and I dressed in matching white outfits dancing and singing together in a green garden picking flowers and them taking turns in declaring their love for me, while their father lovingly followed us capturing these happy memories on tape for us to treasure.

Now I’m a mother of three little darlings (translation: terrorists) I can now admit that Phoebe B.C. was an overly optimistic, clearly deluded, raving lunatic and grossly unprepared for motherhood, and how unglamorous it actually is.

So as my sixth Mother’s Day is looming I have for the first time really thought about what this day is to me.
As a daughter and a mother.

Mothers Day is not a day I have honestly ever really enjoyed, since becoming a mum.
To me it’s a day that I miss my own mum, I just want to be with her, hanging out and doing something to make her feel loved and appreciated.
Because god knows I have a whole new level of admiration and appreciation for my own Mother now that I am 7 years deep into the ‘hood myself.
And yes, some may see it as selfish, that all I want for Mother’s Day is to be with my Mum, with no mention of my own children??
Uh huh that’s right, not a child in sight, just a day of adult (mostly) conversation with my Mum….and it would be awesome.

My children are too young to really give me what I want for Mother’s Day anyway, so I’ll let them off the hook until they’re old enough to cook me a delicious breakfast in bed AND clean up after themselves!

What I do look forward to every year though, is their little hand made treasures from kindy and school. I am not sure what I love more, the actual gifts themselves or seeing how proud they are of their gift making skills. They can keep that stuff coming for LIFE!

Having said that though I must say there was a noticeable difference between my Mother’s Day card from Max last year (prep) and Dans Fathers Day card….
Mine was “I love my Mum because she treats me well” and then Dans was “I love my Dad because he takes me skateboarding”.
Basically sums up our parenting roles right there (insert massive eye roll)

I am always the first one to insist that I don’t want anything for Mother’s Day.
And I genuinely don’t.
I don’t want a fuzzy polka dot robe (we live in QLD for flips sake!), nope to the fluffy socks, stuffed animal shaped heat packs, hand cream, pjs covered in cats, or mugs saying “worlds best mum” (don’t drink coffee) I mean seriously, it’s as if all the department store buyers think Mums just sit around in their pjs all day drinking coffee and cuddling their heat packs…I wish!

Oh and least of all please DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT declare it is “mums day off” because we all know that just means my Monday is going to require double (at least) the cleaning and washing because everyone, not just me has had the day off on Mothers Day.

Don’t get me wrong, over the years Dan has bought me some lovely & truly thoughtful gifts for Mother’s Day, including perhaps the most memorable of all being a brick (Yes. A brick. This brick will get its own blog post. It deserves it) and as grateful as I am for them (except the brick) it’s just not what this awfully selfish, high maintenance and ungrateful mother wants.

What I would actually really like from my family (other than a day with my Mum) is a few small moments of appreciation throughout the year, not just on this one day.
When I’m having a bad week, or you can see me on the verge of a mental breakdown, when you know I haven’t slept all week, or I am just really homesick for my family do something small and meaningful.
Like letting me sleep in until my body decides to wake up (approx 48 hours) help me with my to-do list instead of adding to it, let me have a long uninterrupted shower (where I can wash my hair & shave my legs in one go), come home with pizza for dinner, or leave me a nice note to start my day (or at least send me a nice text during the day)….
I am not high maintenance, I do not require diamonds and day spas to mark every anniversary and occasion.

I just require appreciation.
A simple thank you would do my heart, soul and spirit the world of good.

And so from the bottom of my seemingly high maintenance heart I truly hope that every single one of the Mothers reading this has a day free from wiping human excrement from anyone other than yourselves, no folding, cooking, washing, standing on Lego, grocery shopping, vacuuming, breaking up arguments or watching superhero movies (unless it’s your choice)
…I hope your day meets whatever expectations you have, big or small.
And ultimately I hope you feel loved AND appreciated.
Because YOU deserve it.

And please take comfort in knowing that one day when/if your children become parents, they will truly, and genuinely appreciate you as a Mother.
And then maybe the diamonds and day spas will come…..

ps: Mum I promise they will come, so please be patient x

What’s in a name?

 

“Did you say Debbie?”
“No, P-H-O-E-B-E”
“Oh right sorry Stevie……”

This is basically the standard monologue of most phone calls I make.
And depending on the days mood, sometimes I will persist, but when things start getting desperate I throw in the
“no, Phoebe like from friends, you know, the blonde one?”
“Oh yes yes Phoebe, sorry!!!”

And it goes without saying I never order a pizza or taxi under my name, it’s always Sarah or Amy.

I don’t think my name is obscure at all. Everyone knows a Phoebe. I even know one other, heeeyyyy Pheebs!

But after the slew of phone calls I’ve made in the last week it’s got me thinking about names.

When I was little I desperately wanted to change my name to Claudia. Now that I am all grown up (apparently) I am happy that I suck with Phoebe.
But I definitely feel like my generation are thinking outside the box when naming their offspring (which I am a BIG fan of)

We played it pretty safe with the boys.
Max (Maximilian) and Arch (Archer)
but with Minti obviously we strayed a little.
I have loved the name Araminta for years, so many I’ve lost count.
I never thought we would have a girl after having two boys, so when we found out our third baby was a girl, Minti she was.
We’ve had some funny looks, rude comments and then ahhh ha moments in response to hearing her name. But we love it and cannot imagine her being called anything else.
Even though for the first 10 days of her life my silly self doubt (fuelled by some peoples rude knee jerk reactions to Araminta “Minti”) had us bouncing between Minti-Bambi-Daisy-Bambi-Minti.

But today as I was sitting in traffic, I so randomly though to myself – oh shit, what happens one day when Minti is introducing herself over the phone and they don’t understand her name? I don’t want her to go through the Phoebe/Debbie/Stevie struggle that I have!
Let alone when they find out her middle name is Bluebell….and then I thought, nope it’ll be okay, because the person on the other end of the phone will most likely have a name like Optimus Prime and he/she will totally get it.

I feel like our boys names would have been wilder had Dan not stepped in.
My brother actually told me when I was writing lists of baby names during Archies pregnancy that it sounded like I had gone for a walk and written down a list of things I saw. He & Dan decided right then to step in and ended up naming Arch together.
He may have been Seaview Lampshade Pot Plant Williamson had it been up to me…..

So tell me, what’s the wildest baby name you’ve heard or you’ve had on your own list?

 

 

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies.

Ah Fleetwood Mac, when you put “sweet little” before the word lies it sounds positively acceptable.

Lies. Tall Tales. Whoppers. Fibbing. Untruths. White lies.
All things I cannot abide & will not tolerate in my children.

BUT as a Mum, I admittedly rely on the odd white lie, or tall tale to help me navigate through motherhood with a bit of humour and imagination.
And I lie directly to my children’s sweet little faces on a somewhat regular basis, or what I prefer to think of as whenever necessary.

One of my favourites is whenever I catch them picking their noses.
I casually ask them “remember what happened to Uncle Hamish?” and those fingers are out of their noses faster than a speeding booger.
You see I made up this story about my darling beloved baby brother Hamish (who they idolise)
I said that he always picked his nose as a child, and one day he picked his nose so hard that a piece of his brain fell out of his nostril, and that’s why he’s a bit silly.
Now, I know this is mean, probably bullying…and maybe politically incorrect but it WORKS!!!
And you are totally welcome to use it to traumatise your children & stop them booger hunting. I’m sure Hamish won’t mind…much.

(edit: he doesn’t mind AT ALL, I already cleared it with him, bonus!)

And like today for example, I was cleaning out the fridge. Not
because I wanted too but I had some “helpers” at breakfast and an egg was mysteriously smashed inside the fridge and then left there for me to discover about 28 seconds before we needed to head to school.
So as I’m cleaning my eggy fridge I find a block of dark chocolate with 2 squares left. Winning.
After lunch, I had just put Minti down for a sleep (aka managed to peel her off my nipple and lay her on the couch without waking hooray!)
Arch was happily in his own world building binoculars out of masking tape, string and toilet rolls, so I thought YES I am going to have those two yummy pieces of chocolate.
As I ate the first one, Archie like a little sniffer dog perked up and said “what are you eating Mum” and I said with my mouth full of chocolate “oh nothing honey, just some yukky medicine to help my ovaries”
He just screwed up his face, shook his head and went back to what he was doing.
Now, I wasn’t techically lying.          I am mid period & have epic cramps, so the dark chocolate was legitimately medicine for my poor ovaries.

I tell fun little lies/tales all the time, many may think I’m mean & misleading my children but I think it’s fun, and they’re only gullible for a few years of their lives anyway.
Max is 7 in a few weeks & he’s already completely wise to me, so I just have to give him a sneaky wink and he keeps the magic (ahem lie) alive for Archie.

Here are a few of my favourite go to stories (aka fibs, lies whatever)

Helpful & harmless fibs –
Monsters are definitely not real, but all princesses can absolutely talk to/sing with animals.

Hilarious mis truths to freak out my children for my own entertainment –                        Peanut butter is made by elephants, they chew the peanuts with their big teeth, then spit the paste into jars, and then it gets taken to our supermarket in a truck. #paddocktoplate anyone?

Tales for the sake of saving housework –
Play dough isn’t fun to play with at home, not even a little bit. But if there is play dough at kindy it becomes magical and is super fun.

And classic practical lies –
If you watch too much TV then your eye balls will fall out of your head.

Whatever works just go for it.
Plus it is so much fun to use your imagination and see how wild you can make these harmless tall tales.

Fair enough, my children may encounter some awkward dinner party conversations about the origins of peanut butter later in life but for now they love my version of the truth and I am pretty sure they know what’s real & what’s not.

And we always tell the truth when it counts.

The Real life Unicorn aka “me time”

Me time…..It’s elusive.
And I haven’t experienced much of it since 2009.
And with each passing year it seems to be further out of reach, or maybe that’s got something to do with churning out 3 babies in 6 years.
Oh how I miss going to the toilet on my own.
Being able to close that door behind me, and not have to speak to anyone.
These days as soon as I go to the toilet, I am opening museli bar wrappers for starving neglected children, solving brotherly disputes, making binoculars out of empty toilet rolls & rubber bands, OR like clockwork the baby of the house (Minti) cries. Every. Single. Time. And I have to work out the level of distress to the cry as to how urgently I need to jump up from my business.
Or OR possibly the worst is when my super inquisitive & helpful child Minti decides to run in, grab the toilet paper and make a run for it.
Leaving me paperless and her massively amused.
It happens far too often, and I never learn.
And trying to negotiate with a one year old who doesn’t know the difference between her elbow & nose is not the easiest task.

I see Instagram & Facebook posts FULL with #metime #mindfullness #childfree #datenight and I think HOW.
How do these women do it?
How do they go for a walk on the beach at 6am?
How do they manage that mid morning yoga class?
Or coffee date with friends?
And date night?
Or put themselves first & leave a messy kitchen, over flowing washing basket, and messy bedrooms behind them when they head out for the day.
I don’t even know what that is.
I realise I am sounding very poor me, welcome to my pity party.
But that’s so SO not the case.

And I know I’m not alone.

So let’s be honest.

So honestly for the last 6 years and 351 days I have been 110% Mum.
And 0% Phoebe.
And thanks to the good old Facebook memories (insert sarcasm), Phoebe pre babies keeps popping up.
She was a fun, funny chick who knew how to let her hair down.
And I can still feel her inside me.
But Mum me is so tired, and has way different priorities these days.

And that’s totally okay.

BUT….
It has to change, even a little, just a smidge.
For me.
For my relationship.
And for my children.
I fully believe in evolution of self.
And this self needs to evolve into finding some balance between Mum and Phoebe.
So I will start small.
I will try going to Target to get some new undies for myself and actually buy them INSTEAD of putting them back in favour for a pretty new dress for Minti which she definitely doesn’t need.

It’s all about balance.

And possibly trying to find a babysitter who I can trust (this is going to be a work in process) so maybe Dan and I can go out every so often, alone and #childfree for a #datenight

I am not a hater. Do not be mistaken.

If you can get out the door alone for a walk/run/coffee/quiet time/date night then I am wholeheartedly cheering you on.
I just wish I could join you, even as the third wheel on date night.
Mums crave adult time.
Adult time without children so you can actually start & finish a conversation, and feel like a real person.

Let me tell you those precious 15 minutes in the car after school drop off, when Minti is asleep or content and I am cruising down the highway BLASTING Dolly Parton and singing as loud as I can make me feel SO much better before I get home to alllllll my super fun (note sarcasm) jobs.

As do the quick convos with the beautiful Mums at my sons school in the afternoons.
They make me feel sane.
Even if 98% of the time we are either talking about our children, or whinging about our spouses.
It’s a win, because it’s adult conversations with absolute legends who get it, and get me.
And I completely adore them for it.

So this is the year (yes I know it’s already May, but better late than never) of finding some #metime I would LOVE you to join me, or if you’ve already got it sorted share with me how you make it work!!

Because being a Mum is all consuming but it shouldn’t consume US entirely.

Hello

Hi, I am Phoebe. Welcome to my “house”.

I am a GIRL in denial.

In my mind I am eternally 22, carefree with amazing breasts and Chris Hemsworth is definitely going to sweep me off my feet.

But in truth, I have the dark under eye circles and grey hairs of a 98 year old, and am a 31 year old  WOMAN with three children, and the added bonus (?) of a Man-Child (we will get in to that later).

This is a place of humour, honesty and life experience.

I welcome you to pants free Tuesday (aka everyday), get comfy and R-E-L-A-T-E

(bet you thought I was going to say relax didn’t you…..)