Honest Roadtest: Toilet Paper Tracks

So I see a lot of things on my Facebook feed along the lines of “30 rainy day activities to keep your toddlers entertained” and it’s shit like glitter in water in a Coke bottle and I think yeah, for 40 seconds.

But there’s one activity I’ve seen around a couple of times which I thought might be cool.

Toilet paper tracks


Yeah, this might be cool. I can totally see the appeal in that and I can see myself getting an uninterrupted coffee from this.


Nailed it

We had to do this outside because we rent and could potentially be rendered homeless if we attempt any “craft” inside. Especially “craft” that directly involves the walls. I thought using the bin was a genius idea and the buttons would be a cool substitute for cars.


What the fuck was I thinking?

It took about 10 full excruciating minutes to set up when you consider the toddler “help” and the baby crying because he was being neglected.

And she only played with it for half as long. Prompted.

2/10. Would only recommend if you hate yourself and your children and your bin.


When will I create again?

When will setting up my pencils and paint not seem like a chore?
When will I be able to leave my creations unfinished and not fret over them being destroyed by curious hands?
When will I have time to give to creative pursuits?
When will choosing between work and play be less of an obvious answer?
When will having literal anxiety attacks over the idea of spilled paint on a rented floor be a distant memory?
When will scrolling my Instagram feed feel inspiring without the sour taste of jealousy, wanting to join in with the beauty of the creators but feeling like I’m secluded by babies?
When will my overwhelming inspiration enable me to create, rather than just overwhelm me?
I miss creating. I get so simultaneously happy and sad whenever I see beautiful people making beautiful things. The closest thing I get to being creative is setting up little photos with Hamish. Eliza won’t let me use her as a prop anymore. I imagine by the time Hamish goes through this stage I might be able to actually pick up a pen and paper and do a doodle?


Dear Vicroads,

Who ever has coined this power nap bullshit is obviously a troll, because they do not live in the real world. I understand that fatigue is a serious issue in road safety but your newest campaign is just bullshit.

You’re saying I WILL fall asleep and I will not have any control over where? Really? Because I haven’t slept more than 4 straight hours in 6 months and I’ve never narcolepsyed anywhere except in my bed… And occasionally the couch during Play School.


Am I yawning? Yeah I fucking am now you turnip, because yawning is a social aspect of being a human. Even now I’m yawning thinking about reading a sign on the Hume highway about fucking yawning! I’m not falling asleep!

But no, I get it. Fatigue is so shit and dangerous when you’re driving. I read somewhere that driving while fatigued is worse than driving drunk* so I totally get where this campaign is coming from.

Power naps is where I’m at a loss though.

Who has time for a power nap? If I tried to pull into one of those power nap bays my kids wouldn’t be having it. My kids are busy napping, and any change in the car environment will wake them. Driving with screaming kids in the car while fatigued has got to be worse than driving while hammered. I hate driving enough without fantasising about ploughing into oncoming traffic just for a little peace and quiet.


Not only that, but the recommended 15 minutes has got to be a joke right? Do you set your alarm for 15 minutes? If so, are you not stressing for the full 15 minutes that you’re not asleep yet, and your alarm is going to be going off in 11 minutes and you’re not going to have used your power nap to the fullest potential?

Who is running these fucking campaigns??

The only thing that I can think of that would actually help the fatigue situation is to set up crèches every 30km. Hell I would drive from Melbourne to Sydney if you guys promised me a good nap. Even if it was just 15 minutes. Although my experience in sleeping 15 minute intervals is that it’s the opposite of a good time.

Maybe the perpeptually fatigued such as myself need a big “F” plate on their windscreens to warn other drivers?

I don’t know. My feedback doesn’t come with a solution, but seeing as you guys have a pretty bossed out advertising department, I hope this issue is seen to immediately.



*I’m not citing my sources I’m too fucking tired.

6 months

My little boy is 6 months old today. SIX MONTHS! Half of an Earth year! Wow!

People say it goes fast and it really does, but at the same time it’s like I can’t remember him not being around.

He seems so much younger than his sister was at the same age. He still barely eats people food but that’s really my own laziness and apathy towards creating yet another fucking mess.

He still very much does not sleep through the night. I couldn’t tell you how often he wakes because honestly I don’t know. We cosleep for my own convenience but also because we live in a house design for a single man and his pet budgie.

He kinda sits. He’s more likely to cry than roll. The main thing I’m chuffed about in getting to the 6 month milestone is breastfeeding.


I didn’t think we’d get this far. I set myself the optimistic  goal of 6 months without really believing I could do it. But I have, and I can’t imagine doing it any other way. I can honestly see myself doing extended feeding because it seems like my parenting style has gone from “sometimes I care” to “if it’s not broken I ain’t fixing it”.

I find it so easy. I have tons of milk and Hamish is a good feeder. I pop boobs wherever we go without having to consider crap like formula and bottles. I know he comfort feeds but this kid won’t take a dummy. I’m his mum. I should comfort him.

With Eliza it scared me to be her only source of nourishment. I hated being the only one who could calm her. With Hamish I feel needed and it doesn’t break me. I kinda like it.

A year from now I’ll be writing a post begging for help to wean the little shit but for now I am content with my little Gryffindor.


Still can’t believe I was scared I couldn’t love a boy. The genders of my kids are so irrelevant.

Honest Roadtest: Water Balloons

What the fuck are these?


I know what you’re thinking. You think they’re water balloons. You’re wrong. Water balloons are fun! Aren’t they?? I remember having fun with water balloons… What’s changed?

I’ll tell you what. Two decades and a drought have changed fucking everything about water balloons.


How do you fill these fucking things up? Putting them on a tap seems to be getting iffy results. I think I got about 8 balloons? I was doing this shit for a good half hour?? I ended up having to put the baby on my back because he was getting pissy about my neglect.


So needy. Where's my eyebrows?

In the end, it wasn’t even very fun. They didn’t even pop. Although that might have been my reluctance to throw them. They’re  the precious fruits of my finger loins (?)

I ended up putting some soap in there with and let Eliza play with her new elastic brothers and sisters.



She was only occupied for 15 minutes before Play School became more interesting. That’s less than the fucking cloud dough.

1/5 would not recommend unless I’m not seeing that person ever again.

posted on the go; ignore mistakes

20 ways being sleep deprived is the same as being drunk

Since I had my daughter 2+ years ago, I’ve been thinking about how lack of sleep and excess alcohol consumption are basically the same. These are some comparisons I came up with.

1. Fuckwit drunk (I really want to run marathons and show my kids the meaning of fitness)

2. Self hating drunk (please, I can’t even brush my hair without needing a nap)

3. Horny drunk (let’s do it BUT QUICK BEFORE THE BABY WAKES nope I’m over it get off me)

4. Bad decisions drunk (let’s paint the kitchen!)

5. Regretful drunk (oh god, why did we start painting the fucking kitchen??)

6. Irresponsible drunk (I should probably supervise the toddler but Play School is on and there’s a block of chocolate I don’t want to share)

7. Drunk online shopping (the kids definitely needed these aviators)


Still don't regret it

8. Shit talking drunk (do you think people WANT to be on Play School or do these people just have bills?)

9. Picking fights (online)

10. Irrational  (WHAT IF I NEVER SLEEP)

11. Angry drunk  (keep crying. I know how to get the fly wire off the window and I can make it look like an accident)

12. Back to weepy (OH GOD WHY WOULD I THINK THAT)

13. Dirty drunk (I can’t remember the last time I showered and my standards have lowered to the point where a baby wipe sponge bath is totally acceptable)

14. Hungry drunk (I’m going to eat this entire tin of Milo and you can’t stop me.)

15. Dizzy drunk (sometimes I’m scared to go down the stairs alone)


17. Too drunk to drive  (seriously. Mums of newborns must cause at least 80% of accidents. We need special plates)

18. Too drunk to care (honestly, if McDonald’s was so bad for us, they wouldn’t sell it)

19 Too drunk for conversations  (unless it revolves around how sexy the purple Wiggle is.)

20. Forgetful drunk  (shit, is the toddler wearing a nappy? FUCKING NOPE APPARENTLY)

So these are the ones I can come up with. The results might be skewed because I’m often sleep deprived and drunk. Did I miss any?

posted on the go; ignore mistakes

I Have A Joke

What’s pink and blue and sore all over?

My nipples.

This morning at around 2am I was yelling at Hamish. I was told that if you yell at them it scares them and they stop biting. Not this psycho. To be fair, it must be pretty funny to hear your mum simultaneously trying to scold you without engaging with you enough to wake you up. Fucking paradox. Hilarious.

This morning at 5am I was smacking a baby. Through a blanket and a nappy  and it was half hearted, so I honestly don’t even feel bad. I feel like I might have had an emotional breakdown if he  was my first but I don’t care. I don’t know what my plan was exactly. I think I just wanted to shock him out of the death grip he had on my well used nipples. Maybe give him a taste of his own abusive medicine. He liked it. You’d think I’d said something real funny. Maybe I did. Maybe “oh, my god, Hamish. Fucking stop.” Is the funniest thing there is?

This morning at 6am I was seriously thinking about punching a 5 month old. In the face. I wanted to punch a baby. In the face. It was a real thought that went into my head. I’d like to say I stopped thinking it immediately but I’d be lying. I wanted to punch his little button nose for a good 10 minutes.

I’ve heard old people suggest flicking their nose and I wanted to go one better to ensure this shit stops immediately.

I stopped thinking it when I told my husband and he laughed. The cackling of reason. The chuckle of no lady.

So without physical or emotional violence I’m stuck with the option of weaning and I honestly don’t have the energy. Mouth guard? Nipple guard? Send him off to be raised with the wolves where he clearly belongs because he is a vicious fucking creature?

All viable options to be considered as my caffeine consumption accumulates through the day. I’ll let you know.

posted on the go; ignore mistakes