waste not, want not.

; We do a fair bit of baking around here, so I tend to buy our flour in 12.5kg bags direct from a somewhat-local organic flourmill. Except this bag, I wasn’t quite as regimented at getting the leftover from the paper sack into the sealed plastic container as I normally would be. Of course, this meant prepping the pizza bases on Saturday night revealed a

mothers day 2012

I slowly peeled one eye open as a little hand tapped on my arm. “mummy!” came the stage whisper, “are you AWAKE yet?”. I think I must have been conscious enough to nod, because two little pairs of feet were flying up the hallway, and I could hear chairs being dragged, plates rattled and glasses pulled from drawers. Husband rolled out of bed with a

Holidays, at last

The last day of school is upon us. No more lunch boxes. No more uniforms. No more prodding and cajoling and pushing to get out the door. Two whole weeks of our big boy back with us. As a special treat, I let him have a lunch order for today, much to his delight. But of course, then came the tears. “I want a wunch

Hapy birthday to…Pooh Bear?

The day stretched out before us, nowhere to go, nothing in particular that needed doing. As I wiped the final crumbs of breakfast from the bench, a small furry head poked around the corner. “Hurro, mummy” growled a low voice, which rose suspiciously as the boy behind the voice dissolved into giggles, and showed himself. “Mummy. It’s Pooh Bear’s birthday today! I think we should


Fine weather = outside paly = outside crafty things. Busy weekend here, birthday parties, church duties, housework. Playing with my babies and soaking up some rare time with my big school boy. Have a great weekend, back to regular blogging next week

baking day.

A little head at each elbow, two grasping hands on my knees. “I do dat, mama?” “can I lick the spoon, please, mummy?” “I has lick of ‘poon too, mama?” “bub bub bub mama, BUB BUB”. The old Kenwood churns away, adding to the cacophony that is baking day. Chocolate cake, biscuits. Maybe a slice if we have time. And all made with recipes passed

getting organised.

Last year, preschool mornings were always crazy. Hit-the-ground-running-and-don’t-forget-the-coffee crazy. Especially when one of the mornings saw me out the door at 8.50 for preschool drop-off, then straight round to coffee with my sister, before finally collapsing on the couch at my friend’s house for Bible Study. Four or so hours later, I would walk in the door, the morning done with, and the housework calling.

the day before…

Boy Two was at preschool. Little Miss was in bed. For the final time, before my baby became a big boy, it was just me and Boy One. I choked back my melancholy, and asked him what would he like to do. I shouldn’t have had to guess, of course it would be his favourite. A train, for Pooh Bear. I gathered the boxes, he

camping out…

The rain was still falling, and the cabin fever was starting to set in. The toyroom thoroughly destroyed , and two small boys were in search of a new adventure, so out come the blankets and sheets, and with the addition of some chairs, a cubby house appears. What I love most about playing with my children, is how they take the seed of an