m i a o w


Love it late

A week in the trenches with Small Z enmeshed in the kind of cold that saw green conger eels of snot emerging from her hose nose every 20 minutes or so. Accompanied, of course, by the kind of interrupted sleep that comes with being not able to breathe properly. Couple this with a dead car and a looming inspection of our house by the real estate agent…

Yeah. That’s been the scheme of things. As of today, we have begun to blink in the light of a clean slate. M worked very hard researching our car and managing to take it apart and fix it for under $150 – it would have probably cost a grand and a half to take anywhere. The house is spotlessly clean and organised – M again, as I have been shackled by Small Z and my whalelike stature.

Today my mother turned up to look after Small Z while I worked. But did I work? No, I had had to reorganise her visit to the school/preschool she might be starting to go to due to her cold and it had to be this morning. As we didn’t get home until after midday, getting Small Z to sleep took a while, as did lunch…I got a total of just over two hours work done. On a day when I had files due for Monday. Poor M. I have had to call on him again to look after Small Z for a full day tomorrow so I can at least get my hours up. If I worked in an office this situation would not arise, and sometimes I whimper for the feeling of not having work hanging over me that I didn’t get to because of a Small Z tanty, or a house inspection, or my own lack of self discipline (notice that I put that last)…

And that segue-ways nicely into what my mum delivered today. A birthday present for me from She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Blogged. I SOOOO do not have a problem with ‘late’ presents. They are the best! A little oasis of acquirement when you think all celebrating has been finished off. I got a copy of a book I have been hanging out to get stuck into since I went along to see the author speak at the first Sleepers Crybaby Salon. Rachel Power’s The Divided Heart.

I’ve already read the introduction and the first chapter, which is by Rachel Power herself. (The rest of the book is made up of her interviews with other artists, writers and actors on the topic of motherhood and an artistic life.) It almost made me cry with recognition. Argh, it’s like she lived/lives in my head, but expressed it all far better than I ever could have.

On top of my book I also received a dark Terry’s Chocolate Orange, that I have hidden for emergencies, and some Madame Flavour tea, about which I have written before. But not only these – the most current issue of Frankie that contains fantastic vintage caravan photos. And have I mentioned that She-Who-Will-Not-Be-Blogged specialises in uber cool wrapping paper?

Part of my late birthday present haul

(With, but not part of, the birthday haul, were three bags of clothes for Pikelet. None of them sucked. Amazing for baby clothes! I would mention the name of the op-shop where she found such goodness…but then I’d have to kill you.)


And repeat, and repeat


VOIP. I won. In the end.


  1. Frankie. Is. Awesome!! I used to have a prescription but when I turned 30 and then had my son I let it lapse. Doh!

  2. Or is that ‘perscription’? I never know.

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