Friday, October 21, 2011


Yes - I am a stay-at-home mom, and I am the busiest that I have ever been, so "Thank Goodness It's Friday!"  

Now, in memory of those good ole "working" days of being in the office, I am going to finish up early (leftovers for dinner tonight) and find myself the latest and hippest watering hole (chez moi) and treat myself to a glass of vino (or, in this case, tea and cake).

What a day it has been -

A little bit of baking...

A little bit of sewing...

 A little bit of computer time...

A little bit of furniture rearrangement (again!  I'm addicted)...

A little bit of clean up from last night's accident (it wasn't me!)...

 And a little bit of parenting...

You may ask - how do you fit all of this in?????

Well *sigh* I did manage to brush my teeth this morning...

Have a lovely weekend, everyone!!!

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Birth versus graters and needles

You know - when I gave birth to my second child I didn't use any drugs.  No epidural, no laughing gas, not even panadol.  This was not about "preference"; I just didn't need it. 

The monitor said I was having contractions - I didn't feel it. 

The monitor said I was having strong contractions - I said "Oh really? Hmm." 

In the last 20 minutes I said to my Dear Husband "Oh, I can feel them now.  Can you please massage my back?" 

And that was all the pain relief I needed - a back massage.  A couple of pushes later and Baby Mac was safely out.

Although the birth of my first born involved a bit more pain, it was commented at the time that I had a very high pain threshold.

Well... it would seem that I have a high pain threshold but only when giving birth.

Faced with a needle going into my arm - I cringe.

Holding my baby for her immunisation shots - I tense up so much that I'm nearly crushing her.

And confronted with a small (but deep, I pinky swear it was deep) gash on my finger from a too vigorous stroke against the grater and I'm a big girl's blouse.  I called my husband home from work.  *sigh* yes, I called my husband home from work for a gash on my finger.

And when he comes home, he finds me calm and collected, until he leads me to the bathroom (away from the girls) in which I totally break down.  And I'm begging him - BEGGING HIM - to forego the antiseptic and just put on the bandage.  

Okay, so I didn't use the word "forego".   It was more like "no.. no.. no.. please no.. it's going to hurt.. it's going to hurt.. no.. I don't want it.. it's going to hurt.. I don't need it; it will be alright without it.. if you love me you won't do it.. no.. no.. no".

Not one of my finer moments.

But this one is... converting an extra early morning call from both of my girls into - no, not a grumpy, bleary-eyed mom - but into Blueberry Breakfast Cake.
Breakfast?  Cake?  Oh yes, please.

So, what can you expect when someone like me tells you that this IS a breakfast cake?  

Well, it goes great with your morning tea or coffee.  The texture is more like your morning muffin and not your afternoon cupcake.  It has fruit in it.  And if you serve it with cream (or ice-cream) you would have a good portion of your dairy needs already met.

It tastes wonderful.  That hint of lemon from the lemon zest is a treat.  It is just as good the following day.  And is there really a better way to start your day?

Enjoy peeps!

PS. A few notes :
- I didn't have any buttermilk, so I replaced this with a milk/vinegar concoction.
- I didn't have enough fresh blueberries, so I made up the difference using frozen blueberries.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

First step - acknowledgement

Uh... yes... uh hi... Um... (deep breath) My name is Agnes-May and I am a
a.)  yarn and fabric snob
b.)  an angry grumpy mom
c.)  an iron-the-cuff-while-grinding-your-teeth type
d.)  rhetorical question asker
e.)  an Ikea catalog addict.

I would add a chocoholic but I have resigned myself to this being a lifelong affliction with no known cure. 

As with any x-step program, the first step is admitting that you have a problem.  So these are my problems.

a.), c.) and e.) are pretty self-explanatory, right?  With the ironing thing, there has been some progress.  I used to be an iron-the-cuff-and-shoulder-while-grinding-your-teeth type of person, but I've seen the benefit in ironing the shoulders of my Dear Husband's shirts (it makes his shoulders look more manly... rawr..) so they are no longer an issue.  Now, I just miss the cuff altogether and save myself the dental bills.

As for b.) - angry grumpy mom and d.) - a rhetorical question asker... well let me tell you about those.  Better yet, here's the latest example...

Little Miss M and I are leaving the playcenter in which I had suffered a couple of germ-driven anxiety attacks, so I'm not starting at "happy" as we head out to the car.  And this is how the scenario unfolds...

"Mom, I want my milk bottle.  Can I please have my milk bottle?"  
(And how do I reward her beautiful manners?  Horrible mom, terrible mom!)
"Darling, my hands are full at the moment.  Can you please wait until we get to the car?"
"No, Mom.  I can't wait."
Silence from mom.
"Mom, I don't want to wait.  I want my milk bottle now."
Silence from mom, save for the grinding of teeth.
"Mom.. I want my milk bottle NOW.  I. DON'T. WANT. TO. WAIT!"
SNA-AP.  "Well, you'll have to wait."
And bring on problem b.)
"Can't you see my hands are full?!?"  "It's not that far to the car."  "You'll just have to learn to wait." Blah, blah, blah, etc, etc, etc.

Can you see where the problem is?  That's right - why are my hands full?

You need at least one hand and some teeth to rip open a chocolate bar packet.  If my hands are too full that I can't reach for a milk bottle, then my hands are too full to be able to reach for a chocolate bar.

No wonder I'm a grumpy angry mom.

As for d.) - the rhetorical question asking thing...
Yes, I suppose asking "Can't you see my hands are full?" didn't add any value to my rant or the situation.  But, in the end, it's really a harmless habit... don't you think?

Well, Summer's here.  Bring on the strawberries!!  Strawberry and Almond crumble thanks to Ms Nigella Lawson.  A dollop of cream, the sun on your face - heaven in a bowl.


Edited to add : ok - Summer's not here yet.  But I'm one of those people that tend to ignore Spring and head straight for Summer.  I think it's a Sun thing.

Friday, October 7, 2011

It's a skill and I need more sleep

Do you tell jokes?  I don't.  Hardly ever anyway. 

One - I don't know many jokes.

Two - I can't tell jokes.   I stutter the punch lines which ruins it.  Or I'm laughing before I finish telling which, again, ruins it.

And three - I have a really BAD sense of humour.   
Only my husband gets it.  
He gets my humour and reacts.  
It's why I married him.  


And yes, please note the purposeful use of "reacts" rather than "laugh" because ... yeah ... no ... he doesn't always laugh.  And the times when he does laugh he's usually not laughing at the joke; he's usually laughing at me.   But that's ok because that was the point of the joke - to make him laugh.  Which he does.  Why he's laughing ... well, that's secondary, isn't it?

And what about pithy witty comments?   I'm full of them.   Clever, imaginative one-liners.  But, again, it's all in the delivery.   I mutter.  And people are always asking me to repeat my golden one-liner which ... yeah, just ruins it. 

But my Dear Husband is tuned in to my muttering frequency.   He gets it.  And he reacts.  Although his last reaction to a particularly witty Ag comment was "Wow, you poor thing. You must be really tired!". 

Anyways, no joke, I was out watering the garden when I bumped into this fairy.   I nearly gave her a midday shower.   She came into the apartment and was particularly interested in my vases.  She wanted to know how I cleaned the insides as the openings were so small.  I told her that I didn't clean the insides.  She shrugged and then flew away.

Okay so that was a joke - I don't actually garden. I was just standing there when the fairy came by.

Have a lovely weekend, everyone!

PS.  Thanks to Mia Zamora Johnson for sharing this wonderful pattern.