7 reasons why you’re a BRILLIANT mum!

ONE

Your little angel loves giving you kisses, and you love receiving them, but he kisses open mouthed, with lots of slobber, but you just smile and let it dry on your face rather than wipe it off and hurt his feelings.

Kissing Mum XXX

TWO

You know that gorgeous cashmere knit top you’ve had your eye on for the last five or six weeks? The one you’ve been trying to save for by secretly squirriling away $10 a week from the grocery money? Well you’ve just walked past it in the store to spend your stealthly saved cash on a new pair of tracksuit pants and shoes for your son because he’s outgrown his. And the kids always come before you these days. So you miss out. Again. Oh well.

THREE

Your socialite girlfriends invited you out for a rare night on the town, but you sombrely decline, so you can spend your Friday morning, afternoon, and evening, well into the evening, baking and icing a delicious birthday cake worthy of a Women’s Weekly award for your little angel’s birthday tomorrow.

My Banana in his PJ's for Max

My sister's fire truck for Joel

FOUR

You feel like shit today. You’re tired, your hair needs a wash, your legs need waxing, and you’d give anything to sit on the couch and watch a movie. But instead, you build a cubbyhouse under the dining table, using all the clean linen in the cupboard, and you spend the day trying unsuccessfully not to knock your head as you play “let’s pull Thomas and James along the railway track” for the one millionth time, pretending it’s the most exciting game in the world! Every time.

FIVE

You get three hours to yourself each Wednesday morning. That’s it. And instead of putting your feet up and watching that rom-com movie you’ve been dying to see, you get out the vacuum cleaner and cleaning products and give the house a frenzied scrub, because you’d feel like a bad mum if you cleaned the house instead of spending “quality time” with your little angel.

SIX

Ellen is your favourite show. It’s makes you laugh, it’s entertaining and it’s YOUR time. But “little angel” isn’t tired yet and won’t quit whining unless he can watch Banana’s in Pyjamas for the upteenth time today. You give in, because you adore the smile on his angelic face and the happiness it brings him as he laughs along with B1 and B2’s silly antics.

SEVEN

You go without, you put them first, you smile when you want to cry, your heart melts when they look at you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Why are YOU a brilliant mum? 

My day out with a gorgeous male (and it wasn't my husband!)

Glorious Melbourne sunshine!

One of my last posts had me reflecting on a past life that I often miss. You know that single life where you can do anything, go anywhere, whenever you like?

Well last week I took a trip with my son to Melbourne, my old stomping ground. I caught up with my lovely sister and her two little boys, and was able to catch up with friends I haven’t seen in years. It was brilliant.

One of the highlights of my trip left me smiling ear to ear for days afterwards.

As a day out, I took my son Max into town on the train. We strolled through Bourke Street, had a hot chocolate and a baby chino at Koko Black (with accompanying chocolate teddy on a stick), spent forty glorious minutes wandering the Myer toy department, caught up with a lovely old friend who had yet to meet Max, and then whilst my little angel slept in the pram I wandered the banks of the Yarra in the glorious Melbourne sunshine.

It was such a beautiful day. 

With my favourite little person.

In my life before kids I would have been stuck at work that day. Perhaps I might have dressed up that evening only to wander from bar to bar with my friends, trying to find “Mr. Right”, wishing I were at home in my track pants with a glass of wine and a good movie.

How my life has changed. And I am so much happier for it!

The first goodbye.

The tears are pricking behind my eyes, threatening to roll their salty drops down my face.

I slowly, thoroughly pack my sons belongings into a canvas bag.

For months now I’ve been sharing my desires of solitude, of some time to myself.

My time is here. Now I’m not sure I want it.

What will he do when he realises I am leaving him? Will he cry? Will I?

What if he’s upset and I’m not there to console him, to draw him into my loving embrace, the place he knows where everything will be OK?

I don’t want to cry.

Will it be obvious, that tears are teetering on the edge of my lashes, when I place his bag into the cubbyhole, full of his belongings all labeled with his name?

Will he sense my hesitation and cling ever more tightly around my neck?

So many questions, so many emotions, but so many great things can come from this.

Day care. The first day. The first time I have been away from him.

Sure, it’s only for three hours, but guaranteed, it will be the longest three hours of my life, and I will be staring at the clock until it’s time for me to pick him up.

Did YOU cry?

I miss my old life.

My gorgeous little family and I have just spent over a week on holidays in the Noosa sun. It was such a pity the glorious sun was shrouded by heavy black clouds determined to lash their fat raindrops upon us.

It was an unbeatable location. A wonderful two bedroom apartment directly in front of the beach, a short walk to the natural wonders of the National Park and a leisurely stroll past fine restaurants offering cuisines from around the world.

It’s such a shame we didn’t get to experience it all.

The rain bound us to our apartment for too many hours and with a sixteen-month old son, five books, seven matchbox cars and a Bananas in Pyjamas DVD, we were climbing the walls from day two.

On a rare solitary walk during a break in the rain, I got to thinking about life before kids. How would my husband and I have passed a rain soaked holiday on our own? We would have lazed about on the couch watching movies, relaxed in bed reading the latest book, and let’s face it, we would have lain in bed doing more exciting things than just reading.

But with a toddler wanting to be entertained from morning till night, it’s impossible to do those things that two or three years ago we would have gladly welcomed.

I would not give up this current chapter of my life for anything, but I have to say, I do really miss my old life sometimes. The ability to go and do whatever you please, whenever you please was really not appreciated enough in my days before Max. 

Now I covet those rare opportunities when a demanding toddler isn’t dictating what I do for most of my waking hours.

For now, I keep telling myself that it’s OK to miss my old life. Do you?

My fearful worrier, a.k.a Cling-On

In the sci-fi movie Star Trek, there lives an alien race of villains known as Klingon’s.  

Now I must admit, I’ve not seen any of the movies, they’re not really my thing. However I can’t help but draw comparison to my own little villain, my son Max.

Where the Klingon’s are fearsome warriors, my son is a fearful worrier, or shall we say, a Cling-on?

I am not someone you’d call an expert on children and their behaviours. In actual fact, I had never really been around small children before, other than my own, for any considerable length of time. But at fifteen months I would have thought that the “separation anxiety” stage would have surely passed by now?

I am constantly prizing my clingon’s fingers from around my legs. He pulls at my pants with eyes that are pleading, “pick me up mummy!” Simple tasks such as brushing my teeth, putting on a bra or going to the toilet have become mission impossible's with my little cling-on “clinging on” for dear life.

Now excuse me, but after the undignified experience of childbirth, I do believe I’ve earned the right to wee in private, without a small fascinated face peering into the bowl.


I've no doubt, that there will come a time, when I will wish those days hadn't passed, when I lovingly remember being needed, wanted and adored by my little one. 


But for now, can I PLEASE just have one moment to myself? 

The loss of a beautiful baby boy

After twenty hours of labour, through natural birth, a beautiful baby boy was born.

Imagine it. Have you been there? The birthing suite with the soft pastel walls, dim lighting, the soft hushed tones of the midwives, and the posters depicting tiny babies in their mothers arms, promoting "breast is best".

That final push before your baby will be in your arms at last!

Only there is no sound.

Only silence.

Silence broken by the hushed voice of the doctor, “I’m so sorry for your loss”.

I still cry when I think about it. 

I remember it like it was yesterday. My husband and I were out shopping. Our son Max, just three weeks old, lay sleeping in his pram, wrapped in layers of muslin, the labour still fresh in our memory.

My husband received the call. Our friend’s baby had died.

After twelve hours of excruciating labour, the baby’s heartbeat had stopped. It was unexplainable. The doctors declared that her baby had died “in-utero”.

Can you imagine how that must have felt? There was no time to process it. The contractions were still coming thick and fast. A baby needed to be born.

It was eight heart-wrenching hours after the shattering revelation, through harrowing contractions, when their son was finally born. He was gently wrapped in a hospital blanket, and placed upon her chest.

They never tell you how the feather light weight of a tiny newborn baby can crush your heart and soul.

What happens now?

Isn’t it every parents dream to take that first trip in the car with their baby, a trip home from hospital to their beautifully decorated nursery, where furniture, linen and toys have been chosen with thoughtful love and care.

What happens now?

A drive home in silence? A closed door at the end of the hall where dreams lay shattered behind it?

And then like a twisting knife in the chest, a cruel reminder that mother nature lays upon you, the milk that was intended for your baby arrives.

The sadness and grief my husband and I felt for our devastated friends poured over us like acid rain. We stood in David Jones, the sobs erupting from us both, causing shoppers to stop and stare. We didn’t care. At that moment we were overwhelmed with gratitude that our son had arrived safely and was alive and healthy.

As friends' of someone who has devastatingly dealt with the death of her baby, here are some reminders that may help to lessen the inevitable sadness that follows such a tragedy.

• Cry, as often and as long as you need to.
• Denial, isolation, anger and depression are all normal steps in the grieving process
• Fathers grieve too.
• We don’t have to face the world alone.
• Know that no one who hasn’t lost a baby can understand what it feels like.

The wonderful book What to Expect When You're Expecting has a really helpful chapter dedicated to the loss of a baby.

Like a gift from the angels, our friend is pregnant again with her second child. We know that this baby can never take the place of the one that was lost, but it will be just as loved and just as adored. By all.

Your comments below are always gratefully received.

a new baby!

12 weeks pregnant

Dear Percy,

It’s been nine months since we learned of you.  Like an innocent child on Christmas morning, we were overjoyed! A new addition to our fabulous family!

We loved you the minute we discovered you existed, but when we lay our eyes upon you for the first time, after so much waiting, the love we feel for you will be cemented for all eternity.

I’m giggly with anticipation! To feel the softness of your skin, to smell your purity that only a tiny baby exudes, to marvel at your perfection in miniature, as we gaze at your tiny rosebud fingernails, the size of which are difficult to comprehend.

Your grandparents, on both sides, are beside themselves with excitement! My heart softens when “Nana” comes home with more gifts for you. Not only are you in your parents’ dreams, but also your entire family are longing to hold you and discover you.

I wonder what you will look like? Will you have the handsome but striking features of your father? His piercing eyes? His clear complexion? Or will you have your mother’s luxurious dark hair and soft warm face?

Yesterday was the day we were told you would enter our lives. But you’re not here. Why? Is your delay a sign of character traits to come? Will you be the last to finish dinner, the one we need to shuffle along when we’re in a rush, the baby who sleeps all day and all night?

Your bedroom is ready. Hours have been spent planning and decorating to make sure you feel home. You belong here. You belong here with us.

Please come soon.

Love always, your Aunty Melissa, Uncle Chris, and cousin Max.

Please feel free to leave a message for Tony and Vanessa, the proud parents of Percy.

The colours of Autumn

Autumn showed us its many colours today. Eager to get out of the house and say hello to nature, Max and I ventured out to the Botanic Gardens.

As we strolled through the wrought iron gates, we breathed in the smell of green. That fresh, morning scent that can only come from newly cut grass weaved its way through our lungs, and with every step we took deeper into the garden, and with every breath, autumn said hello.

A very friendly little boy offered us a slice of his bread to throw to the ducks. It was such a kind gesture I didn’t have the heart to show him the signs scattered around the pond “DO NOT FEED BREAD TO THE DUCKS.” Apparently it can cause Avarian Botulism.  This was Max’s first real look at a live duck and his little body shook with infantile excitement. It was beautiful to watch.

As we meandered up the winding cobbled path, there were fallen pink flower petals littering the way. I explained to Max that there lived a lovely lizard, just up ahead. We would be lucky to see him today as clouds hid the sun. Lizards love to warm their bodies in the sun, none more than this little one.  Sure enough, there he was, camouflaged in the dry, fallen leaves, a hundred shades of brown masking his presence. I pointed him out to Max, but I don’t think he could see it. I must think of a name for him. Lazy Lizard?

The loud CRACK of thunder overhead causes me to pause and reconsider our plans. Should I get out the picnic rug after all? The clouds are a heavy grey, blanketing the sky.

I decided to head back to the car, but on the way the warm sun poked through the clouds. Oh, maybe just for a minute we’ll sit and eat some watermelon. Of course, the watermelon juice traces a winding trail down Max’s chin, a sign perhaps of his enjoyment?

Silly me, I tried to take our picture. Why is it I’m not in very many at all? That’s right. Because his little hand grabs eagerly at the camera, every time.

A bee lands on our blanket. I guess it’s our sign that it’s time to go. What a glorious day. Why would I want to be anywhere but here, with my beautiful son?

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

Our trip to the mini steam train railway

Imagine a place where the atmosphere is full of excitement! Children run around the grassy areas in between the BBQ's, mum's chat under the shade of a tree and kids line up with their fathers to ride on the mini steam trains.

We were there! On Sunday we had a wonderful time at the Illawarra miniature steam train railway in North Wollongong. For anyone who lives within an hour’s drive, I highly recommend a visit with your children.

Max is only fourteen months old so although he doesn’t exactly appreciate it, he still had a good time.

There is so much to see! There must be about fifteen miniature trains and they run all day! Some are coal operated,  some are electric, but all are great fun! The children hold hands with their fathers, all whom pretend they're there to look after their kids, but are really just as excited as their children. 

It was a great hour or two spent on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

For information about their running days go to Illawarra Live Steamers.

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

I.T. for Toddlers. Adopt or reject?

OK I admit it. I was once one of those women. Yep, you know the ones. We sat in judgment of mums who pushed their children in prams whilst the child sat reclined, playing on their Nintendo DS (or something similar).

I would exclaim to my friends that no matter how stressed or busy I got, I would always instill a sense of social etiquette in my children. Games were to be played at home or at friend’s houses. When we were out and about it would always be about social interaction.

Boy, how my opinions have changed! Max is now 14 months old and I am more on edge than ever before, when he is needy, whiney, whingey and cranky. My mother-in-law tells me how most people understand and accept that toddlers often make a lot of disruptive noise, but I still feel the stares of irritated people when my son exclaims his tiredness at the top of his voice whilst we’re in the checkout line at Woolies.

So my solution? I have 5, yes 5 episodes of Bananas in Pyjamas on my iPhone. They are my saviour! He absolutely and utterly adores the Bananas and their funny antics. They are each exactly 12 minutes long and he is captivated for the full 12 minutes of every episode.

Feeling poorly but happy, tucked up in mum's bed

A girlfriend of mine in the UK is taking her three children to Disneyland in France next week. It’s a seven-hour trip, in one car, with an 8 year old, a 6 year old and a 3 year old. How is she going to do it? Jo has the DVD players, the DS game controls, and the ipods charged up and at the ready. A lesson in poor social interaction with their parents? I think not. More like a pure act of survival of the sane.

In a world where we teach our baby boomer parents how to use a mobile phone and send text messages, in a few years time it will be our little ones teaching us how to use the latest technological gadgets. My thinking is that I am preparing Max for his future. A life of visiting his mum to set up her IT needs!

Dad, you need to press THIS button, see?

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

1o weird and wonderful things I LOVE about my son…

My Little Angel

• His sweet sleepy breath

• His soft delicate, kissable lips and chubby, chubby cheeks!

• The way he hugs me when he’s just not sure of something

• The delicate way he turns the pages of a book so he won’t skip a page

• That he looks like his handsome dad

• His soft, doughy bottom that I just want to SQUEEEEZE!

• The way his whole body shakes with excitement

• The way he kisses me with a big, sloppy, open mouth when I'm least expecting it

• The way his eyes are full of innocent wonder

• When he ever so gently kisses our cats on the forehead

Oh and number 11- he is he only person who LOVES my singing!


What do you just adore about your little ones?

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

Why won't you wave at my son?

Why won’t you wave at my son as we pass you by? Can’t you see him? He’s the one in the pram with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen plastered across his gorgeous face. He’s the one waving at you with ounces of enthusiasm.

As we get closer to you, I see you look away. Why don’t you smile back? I’d understand perhaps if you were busy talking to someone else, or if you were on your mobile phone, but you’re not. I may have understood if we were on the busy streets of New York, but we’re not.

My son’s name is Max, and a few months ago he learnt how to wave. He doesn’t speak yet so this and his smile are the closest things he can do to communicate with other people. He loves meeting new people yet you turn away.

How do I explain that to him? Do I say that people are just too busy to be polite? Do I tell him that some people have no manners? How do I tell a small child that the person you are smiling and waving at doesn’t want to smile back?

Isn’t connecting with others food for the soul? Wouldn’t you rather make a child happy for a brief moment, and perhaps find happiness yourself, than be miserable whilst trying to bring others down into your dark pit of misery?

George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “The worst sin towards our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them; that's the essence of inhumanity.” The Devil’s Disciple

Let’s make the world a better place, starting NOW. Just one smile, one wave, one good deed, each day, can and will make such a difference.  We’ll smile again at you tomorrow, and every day after that, until we break you, and you smile back. 

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave a message!

What Are Little Boys Made Of?

What are little boys made of?


Snips and snails , and puppy dog tails,


That's what little boys are made of.

"What Are Little Boys Made Of…’’ is a nursery rhyme by the English poet Robert Southey that has its origin dating back to the early 19th-Century. 

This got me thinking about what my little boy is made of. 

Eating dirt! source

• A love of eating dirt (and anything off the floor). 

• An obsession with noisy transport (trucks, motorbikes, loud cars) 

• A fascination with dead things 

(a friend of mine recently told me about her six-year old son who ran into the kitchen where she was preparing dinner. “Mum, I need a knife!” he said excitedly. “First of all” she said, “I’m not going to give you a knife, you’re six. Secondly, WHY do you need a knife?” “I found a lizard!” he said. “Are you going to kill a lizard?” she asked, worried that her boy was going to turn into a monster. “No, mum, it’s already dead. I want to open it up and have a look inside!”)

• A propensity for creepy-crawlies 

(another friend’s three-year old son is too young to distinguish between pets and pests, she says. “We know if we are confronted with 15 minutes of silence, it is a clear indication that he is off in some corner of the house with his bug jar, trying to capture a moth or an ant”)

Why should we not quell their enthusiasm for these grisly curiosities and obsessions and sternly discourage them?

This is a good question, and one that parent’s of boys ask themselves a lot. I think we should be reluctant to quash any display of their individuality. He may grow up to be an entomologist or a researcher who discovers that the wings of cockroaches can cure cancer, and it could also just be a passing fancy that he outgrows. 

Either way, I think if a little boy wants to spread his wings, (as scaly and icky as they may be), eat dirt or pick off the legs of a dead spider, we should let him.


I'd LOVE to hear what your little boy, or girl, is made of. Please add your comment.

I AM NOT A LITTLE BABY!

Have you ever wondered when your little bundle of joy became a little person in their own right?


One year old's constantly amaze and astound us with their day to day discoveries, yet sometimes we forget that they are little sponges of life. 


We have to remember that everything we say and do is on display. The interactions with your partner and friends, the way you carry your voice, your feelings, frustrations and reactions are all observed and absorbed by your little one. Sometimes this is an easy thing to forget.


What will you help your little one discover today?


photo source Visit Explorations Early Learning LLC

This is me...

This is me. I am a 37 year old wife and mother of one, although in my former life things were very different.


State Retail Manager of a wonderful company called Mimco, I thrived on juggling all the balls in the air of retail madness to achieve brilliant results for everyone. I loved proving to people that they could achieve anything they put their mind to, and that they were their own worst critic when it came to performance and success.


Which all seems a little funny now, as I write my first ever blog thinking to myself, "who on earth would want to listen to what I've got to say?".


The reasons for me to start "From Boardroom to Babies" are pretty simple. I feel isolated and lonely. Not all the time, but too much of the time not to do something about it. I've tried mother's group, play group, and everything in between, and although I've met some fantastic ladies and their adorable offspring, it's not enough for me.


These will be my heart felt accounts of a corporate ladder climbing woman turned full time stay at home mum. There will be tears (from my side anyway!), laughs, and hopefully friendships formed over that wonderful place we call the blogosphere!


Please feel free to write and comment, and I hope we bump into each other somewhere in the great land of internet.