Happy (belated) Australia Day

Driving home from preschool, Berry says from the back seat, "Mommy, PLEASE. Please tell me you're not Australian. Please."

Why do I get the feeling this whole national/cultural identity thing might get tricky for us?


{Australia Day was the 26th and I forgot to mention it here. How very unAustralian of me. I did, however, follow up with a pavlova. Evidence above.}

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Cloud nine

Last night (after weeks of claiming she can't sleep properly because "my bed just hates me") Berry got a thick new pillow-topper pad on her mattress.

This morning – after sleeping right through the night – she came to me and said, "Do you know what I slept like? Just like a princess AND a angel AND a fairy! I was just so cuddleish."


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Domestic / decadent

I haven't made candied popcorn since high school but oh boy is it good.

I got Mum to email me the recipe (she scanned the page out of old primary school recipe book, my technologically advanced mum) and Berry was very pleased.

QB sneak

Hey little man.

This is as close to playing football as I'm ever going to let you get.

Enjoy.


* * *

Un-Baby Shower

Baby showers can be fun (especially when you replace games with wine) and baby shower invitations can be fun too.

This is the latest custom shower invitation I've designed – it's flat printed, but it would be fantastic letterpress printed in just one or two colours.

{I hardly need to say it, but the actual invitation doesn't have gaps in the phone number or email address. That's just me bestowing privacy via Photoshop...}

Danger danger danger!

Poor little Man-show. He has so many plans and none of the finesse to execute them; so many big ideas dashed by a mother who is completely uninterested in daily trips to the ER.

I wish he wouldn't eat dirt with a spoon and eat chalk like it's a carrot. I wish he wouldn't get caught in the baby gate. I wish he wouldn't hare up the stairs anytime that gate is ajar. I wish he wouldn't try to climb his highchair. I wish he wouldn't dance on the coffee table and run heart-stopping laps on the couch. I wish he wouldn't draw on the walls. I wish he wouldn't hit his head on 80 things a day. I wish he wouldn't use his head to try to push through tight spaces between furniture. I wish he wouldn't "type" on my keyboard and unplug my Mac. I wish he wouldn't open the dishwasher and play with the oven knobs. I wish he wouldn't stand up underneath tables. I wish he would stop pinching his fingers in the cupboards after the first 20 times. I wish he wouldn't get stuck in boxes. I wish I had never taught him the word "HELP".

I'm not one to wish away days, let alone weeks. But I can't help gazing wistfully at a time about six months down the track, when he's two, where I'm convinced he'll be able to do so much more for himself and so much less to himself. Then I can spend less time worrying and rescuing and repairing and consoling and more time doing... well... whatever it is I used to do.

I'll now pause politely while all the mothers of older boys roll around holding their sides and laughing loudly.

Leave me with my little dream. Right now that, and the coffee, is all that gets me through the day.

Happy Christmas (and a fabulous 2010!)

Hope yours was merry and bright....

....lots of new letterpress things to show you in the new year – just as soon as I can just get the pictures organised!