Sofa v Zombie

Zombie daughter

Yes. Supernova.

So last Sunday Miss Dippity got up early (while I was at rowing) mixed up a pot of pink food colouring, glucose syrup and cocoa powder and turned into a zombie.

The blood effect was quite effective.

Unfortunately it was also quite effective at GETTING ALL OVER THE HOUSE.

Which was fine because mostly we were talking hard surfaces and they are easily cleaned.

But just as she was leaving she tripped over the couch and we ended up with “blood” on the sofa.

Our sofas covered at great expense by the management in beige.

(well it’s probably called sandstone or something fancy but it is effectively beige)

Not wanting to waste a minute at Supernova, she quickly flipped the cushion over and ran for the train.

Unfortunately her crime was soon discovered after Groover followed her sticky red footprints through the house.

My zombie daughter was in trouble.

I admit that even though we chose the fabric because of it’s stain resistant and easy clean properties, I didn’t actually believe it would be that easy.

But it was.

I went to work on Monday.

Groover got out some warm water and hey presto!  (I was seriously impressed and relieved I didn’t have to do it)

We have our beige sofa back.

And our daughter lives.

Sofa 1: Zombie 0

Summer jobs

He's graduated
Finished school

School is finished.

And wow.  I am now the parent of a nearly at university student.

But before that happy day – hopefully – of a decent ATAR result and an offer to the preferred course – Science at UWA – the pocket money has been cut off.

Now you might scream “Fair crack of the sauce bottle!  Give the guy a break, he’s just finished 12 grueling years of school…”

Stop it.

A summer job is good for him.


A bit of money, certainly more than I’m prepared to give him.


Something to do.

And he’s not alone.

Joining him in the workforce is Miss 14, who has been busy handing out resumes to local businesses and prospective babysitting clients.

My daughter
Babysitter and Waitress

Since being on holidays she’s continued her Saturday morning waitressing job and done some work for a friend assisting at a holiday program for 4-7 year olds.

She’s good with kids.

(must get it from her paternal grandmother… sorry mum)

And how much does she like spending the money she’s earning?!!!

The only downside?

I don’t get a say in how she spends it.

A small price to pay.

So summer jobs.

They can be crap.

I spent a couple of summers photocopying in an engineering library…

But the pay packet is delicious.

And anyone who stays at home… well.

I have chores that need doing.

Improvising in the kitchen

Essential oil burner

I came home from work today, opened the door and was transported to the outer suburbs olfactorally speaking.

To the tip to be precise… which may or may not be in the outer suburbs… I haven’t been there… that’s what rates are for.

The kitchen bin REALLY needed emptying.

But not onto the floor which is what happened when Groover pulled the plastic bag out of the shiny stainless steel bin and trying to stop the small drips from a hole in said bag managed to tip it over the floor.

Then the house really started to reek.

A shame as we’d done quite a good job in cleaning the house over the weekend.

Apart, obviously, from actually emptying all the bins.

Anyhoo we needed DRASTIC odour manipulation but an essential oil atomiser was not to be found.

Fear not, says Groover, and he quickly rigged up the above home atomising kit.

Now our house smells of lavender.


Later it was Dippity’s turn to do the washing up.

She likes to dress for the occasion.

My little maid

Aw.  Cute.

(she did a good job too)

Why I don’t have any more teacups

Just a video today.

This is one of my favourites from my daughter’s early days.

Here she’s about 14 months old.

A determined wee lassie.

Many people can’t watch this film without wincing.

I’m not sure what it says about my parenting style but I can assure you that no children – or for that matter teacups – were hurt in the making of this video.

I hope you love it.

Blonde ambition

Waiting for the blonding agent to work

So this summer my baby wants to be blonder.

We went down the supermarket to get one of those streaking kits with one of those caps that you pull through bits of hair but of course who wants to follow instructions!?

I’ve been to the hairdresser.

I’ve seen them do foils.

Piece of cake.

I can do that.

So we cut up strips of foil (a bit thin… thicker foil would be easier to work with), got out my comb with the sticky bit at the end.

And by sticky I mean stick-like not covered in goo.

And away we went.

As you’ll see in the video, Miss Dippity was a little worried.

“Can you book me into the proper hairdresser tomorrow Mum?”


Just wait and see I said calmly.

(OMG I’m a bit worried I said inside)

But the result was…

Not bad for a beginner...


And probably not blonde enough for my daughter.


Still I reckon I passed my apprenticeship:

Wife, mother, radio presenter, manager, actress, cardplayer, zumba dancer, cook, nurse, seamstress and now hairdresser.


(I don’t claim to do any of them particularly well)

Get your mum to apply the sunblock

This is why.

Use zinc cream to get this effect

Ah the follies of youth.

Of course none of us would go outside in the Perth sunshine, well known for its lethal properties and expose our skin to within an inch of the burns unit.

Would we?


Well not without letting someone we trust apply the sunblock.

My poor baby has been in pain for four days and scratching for another four following this fun day at the beach.

We’re hoping she learns from this experience.

Poor thing.

Imagine having bloggers as parents…

Groover blogs here.

Finished at last

The Dress

Hence my absence on this blog.

Of course I bought twice as much material as needed so now my material collection grows some more.

Does everyone who sews have one of those?

Mothers’ Day

The Rose

I asked my daughter what it was about me that makes me a good mother (yes it’s always about me) and she said:

  • You set boundaries but give us the freedom to make mistakes
  • You talk with us like we’re real people, not children
  • You let us make mistakes and are there when we do

And that’s the best mothers’ day present of all.

I have teenagers now.

And you know what?

I love them even more.

They are so interesting.

So brave.

So like me. (and Groover)

How did that happen?

Am I like my parents?

I hope so.

Happy Mothers’ Day mum and to all mums out there.

The Rose