January 2010
6 posts
Call out!
Hi SOMH followers, we’re in the early stages of transforming our blog ramblings into a coherent book and need your feedback! Tentatively titled ‘Shit on my hands: The anti-guide to early motherhood’ the book will (hopefully) be an entertaining, illuminating and no-holds barred exploration of raising a small human, aged 0-2.
Now tell us, what topics would YOU like covered in a...
'Motherhood: too bad, it was your choice' →
MH
Here another writer and mumma, Koraly, writes in Overland about some of the similar issues I raised in my last post - tho’ somewhat more eloquently!
'Bloody prams, grrr, grumble, grumble ...'
MH
On the news the other night was a story about Summernats which, in case you are unaware, is a celebration of noisy, fumey car culture held annually in Canberra. If you are the kind of woman who prefers not to walk past mobs of men in Jack Daniels singlets yelling in unison ‘SHOW US YA TITS!!!’ then you are unlikely to have ever attended said event. Interestingly however, as the news report...
Getting movin'!
MH
My husband M is so disciplined about his exercise that – and he’ll readily admit this himself – he is a little selfish about it. There were times last year when I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I just had to get away from the damned baby when he’d breeze into the kitchen in his jogging gear to announce he would be gone for an hour MINIMUM. In fact, the only tense conversations...
December 2009
2 posts
In the spirit of lazy end of year journalism, I...
BB
1. Don’t let them walk on the road by themselves. Who woulda thunk it? This tip is admittedly directed squarely at my dear dad, who is woefully ill-versed in current child rearing practices (to wit, when I asked him to kindly remove the steak knives from the drawer that C most frequently paws about in, he turned to my mum and guffawed ‘How did kids ever survive childhood in the old...
Phew! 2009 is over
MH
Like nearly everyone else on the worldwide interweb I wanted to make a best-of 2009 list. But everything I wrote was a little lame. Either I was drivelling on with overly earnest ‘when I looked into my baby daughter’s eyes for the first time’ highlights, or my idea of ‘had-to-cross-my-legs-really-hard-so-as-not-to-pee-my-pants’ moments weren’t actually that funny at all once I’d gone to the...