An oldie but a goodie

I know this photo is super fuzzy but it still remains one of my favourite photos of Papadada and Sticky Baby. He was only 6 weeks old then - feels like a lifetime ago already. My boys were watching TV in our gorgeous little Bed & Breakfast up in Normandy. It was just magic seeing father and son like that. Same head, same shoulders, two peas in a pod. My loves...

End note: I’ve become obsessed with lunapic, I know. It’s the fun, free photo editor I’ve been using to add text to my photos. It’s cute. It’s fun. It’s creative, right? I was totally inspired by Melissa at Dear Baby. Total copy-cat, I know. I am still on the search for the ultimate font..

Me thinks this is the beginning of a whole new ball game...

I think this is it! The illusive Crawl! He's still a little unsure but there's definite movement from the knees and hands departments.

Ok, I think I need to take a deep breath and prepare myself for a sudden kick into high gear. Cardio here I come!

Note: I've just had a mental image of me in a fast-forward type-video set to the 'Flight of the Bumblebee' symphony..

Mothers’ Day Overkill.....I Know....Yawn

I know this has been the umpteenth mothers’ day post in the past few weeks. Shoot me. I got the dates wrong 4 times. I’m special like that.

So I’ll keep this short ‘cause I can hear you all huffing and puffing and hating on me.

Sticky Baby came home from Nanny B’s house on Thursday afternoon with a little gift for me. It was wrapped in pink tissue paper with a little daisy sticking out the top. The sweetest gift wrapping ever.

And inside it’s papery softness was the most beautiful present in the world. My heart exploded...

I will treasure this little hand print for ever. I’ve been wanting to make something like this for a while, but never quite found the time nor the clay. It’s so much more special being a surprise gift from my baby though. I just love it. Papadada is going to mount it in a frame for me. Not just a pretty face that one.

End note: OH MY GIDDY AUNT! Sticky Baby’s name has been revealed...hihihihi...maybe it’s a ruse people, a ruse I tell you! Have you never watched CSI or SVU? Fake names totally happen...

A modern-day Jacques Cousteau

Yes, it’s a bike pump.

No, it’s not dirty, it’s brand new

Yes, it was Papadada’s idea to give it to Sticky Baby as a toy

Yes, Sticky Baby thinks it’s da bomb

No, he doesn’t get sick from sucking in all that air

No, it’s not that much air anyway (Papadada has assured me)

Yes, once again it was totally Papadada’s idea for Sticky Baby to simulate scuba diving

Yes, that’s me joining in the fun....that’s how we roll.

20 minutes well worth your time - I promise!

I know 20 mins seems like a very long time, but I assure you, whether you have children in your life or not, this man’s speech will hit a nerve. Entertaining, funny, and incredibly eye-opening. A moving case for creating an education system that nurtures (instead of undermines) creativity. Food for thought...

I was laying in bed last night when I realised with a warm glow in my heart what day it was. May 27th. The day your Daddy proposed to me, 2 years ago exactly.

I will never forget that day. Your dad had taken me to Paris for a little weekend getaway, but me being me, I didn’t suspect a thing.

After an unforgettable, romantic dinner in a quaint little ‘quartier’ in the City of Love, your Dad and I sat under the Eiffel Tower watching the light show that illuminates the Paris sky. I still had no idea.

The story is quite beautiful and when you’re a little bit older I promise to tell you all of it in detail.

But what you need to know is that on that night began a lifetime of love, adventure and dreams. And a very big part of that dream was the notion of you. All because two people fell in love...

I’ll never forget what your Dad said to me when he presented me with the most beautiful ring in the world. He said, ‘Now you have your very own light show on your finger’. And what warms my heart is watching you play with that ring now, your eyes wide, just the way mine were on that magical evening.

Those rings on mummy’s finger represent so much. Our unending love, our life, our world together. And you are now part of that, my precious boy. You make our little world go round. 

There will always be Paris and there will always be you.

Love,

Mum xo

Bromance

There is a serious ‘bromance’ growing between Sticky Baby and his ‘frenemy’, Big Bubba J. It’s a love- hate relationship like no other.

As his name suggests, Big Bubba J is a large, boisterous, super-affectionate 15-month old. This kid can hug like the best of them. Rarely have I come across such an openly loving and demonstrative child.

Since their initial encounter about 6 months ago, Big Bubba J took an instant liking to Sticky Baby. Each and every time they are together he endlessly showers Sticky Baby in sloppy kisses (there was even tongue once) and mammoth bear hugs. It’s adorable. Sticky Baby thinks otherwise. It’s a bit of a Pepe-le-pew and the cat scenario...

Big Bubba J being Pepe-le-pew and Sticky Baby the cat who desperately tries to get away. It’s effing hilarious to watch those two. Just gorgeous.

There was a phase not long ago where Sticky Baby would scream the house down every time Big Bubba J would round the corner. Absolute hysterics. Sticky Baby would be howling which would then set Big Bubba J off. Sore eardrums anyone? But I think there’s been progress of late. A little more playing and a little less groping. They are sizing each other up and learning to enjoy each other’s company. A mutual respect of sorts. As Sticky Baby gets a little bigger and a little more mobile, he is gaining confidence around his big pal.

There are still a few ‘over-hugging’ incidents that we are work-shopping, but our boys are getting there. Both myself and BBJ’s mum, Tan Artiste (she sprays a mean fake tan) are looking forward to plenty of action-packed play dates in the future.

Sticky Piccie - Threats

Sticky Piccie - Going green

Kermit the Frog, eat your heart out! 

Time to get serious

Guys, I'm re-blogging again, but this time you have to help. Read the post below. I can't imagine Sticky Baby ever being sick...let alone this....Let's get those signatures!

haleystumble:

i miss you aj.

guys, if you ever click on any link i ever post, PLEASE let it be this one. 

its called People Against Childhood Cancer, or PAC2. the only thing it requires is your name. 

right now it has 42,360 signatures and when it gets 1 million signatures, big, BIG things are going to happen. potentially kicking cancer in the ass (i would say pardon the language, but i think we could all agree that cancer of any kind needs a good kick in the ass). there are more specific details on the link, WHICH YOU NEED TO CLICK TO FIND OUT!!

an old friend of the family is running it, due to the fact that this useless, evil, unfathomable disease took away his youngest son, AJ.AJ was the closest thing i will ever have to a younger sibling. two Januaries ago, he died at the age of 14. 

died at 14 people!!!!! seriously, think about everything that is wrong with that sentence. he was the healthiest, most athletic kid at his school until Fathers Day 2007! 7 months later, we were listening to Hallelujah in a church staring at his picture and wondering what the hell happened.

im in NO way trying to scare all you new baby mommas out there. but what i am going to do, is ask you to do one thing: sign the damn petition!

geogiegirlnyc, do it for Charlotte.

withoutmelissa, do it for Everly.

iloveroo, do it for Owen.

graceinplace, do it for Rhyan.

artislovely & iannorris, do it for the boy.

anybody! everybody! i dont care who you are or whether or not you even have kids, it doesnt matter!! do it for any child that youve ever known, that you will know, or that may one day be your own.

honestly, it takes maybe a whole 20 seconds of your time, if that. but that 20 seconds of your time will help save countless little lives.

did you know what AJ was one of 3,000 children that die every year from this? because he was.

what if i told you that two elementary classes worth of children are diagnosed with some form of childhood cancer every day? because they are—46 to be exact.

or what if i told you that over the span of 10 YEARS, the government allots enough money for childhood cancer research that would support 2 HOURS of the War in Iraq? because thats true too.

sickening, huh? so do something about it!

ive plastered the link all over this post, but ill put it down here one more time just in case you didnt see it before or if your too lazy to scroll up to find it again: People Against Childhood Cancer

ive given several speeches about this, and i usually end them like this:

“Do it for AJ. Do it for your own kids. Do it for today’s 46 unlucky kids, and tomorrow’s 46, and the next day and the next day…

Ditto Melissa

I am re-blogging a post from one of my absolute favourite bloggers, Melissa at Dear Baby.

She writes oh so beautifully and somehow finds exactly the right words for the way I am feeling. I hope you enjoy this passage as much as I did.

                                  
May 25, 2010

Sometimes the feeling consumes my whole being.

Gratitude. head to toe.

Last night as Everly slept in the other room and Brent dozed on the couch around me, I sat on the floor of our new home and listened.

All of the lights were off except the birdcage stuffed with white Christmas lights that mama wired up over our dining room table.You could hear the faintest bit of traffic zipping by on the other side of the giant magnolia trees that insulate our house. Far away, someone slammed a car door. The dogs slept at Brent’s feet.

It felt like the entire world was still and I was there, with my knees bent to the side, lying on the rug and staring up at the ceiling when the feeling hit me.

I am so grateful for all of this.

I have asked God more times than I can ever count why he chose to give me this life. I certainly am not worthy. Not in the least.  This family. These friends. The opportunities. My beautiful husband, and that precious, precious baby girl.

Nothing I have ever done warrants the gifts that have been bestowed upon me.

In all the writing I’ve done in my life, I’ve wished a hundred times that there was a word deeper than Love. and lately I find myself wishing over and over for a word greater than thankfulness.

My life is not glamorous. I will never be the most beautiful, the most creative, the wealthiest. I am as imperfect as they come. but somehow, despite my flaws, this little life of mine is heavy with Grace.

 and I find myself on so many occasions, lying on the floor (or in the car or in bed or any number of other places) with my head spinning -  wondering just how I’ll ever be worthy of so much.

Thank you for this life.

M

Mandarin fields forever

Isn't that colour insane? A little field of bright bright bright orange flowers, just off the highway. I heart spring/summer in the south of France xo

Holy S#*t!

Sticky Baby is teething in a big way. Nothing new, it's been ongoing since month 3 of his life. Unfortunately, the way it is manifesting himself is horrifyingly, dry-retchingly new..

Acid poohs. Need I say more.

Well actually, I do. 'Cause for those of you who are yet to come face to face, or rather nose to ass with one of these shockers, you need to to know everything you possibly can to either a) be as prepared as possible or b) avoid any such encounter completely.

I have mentioned in previous posts that Sticky Baby is very vocal about doing his business. The neighbour down the street knows when he's pushing out a turtle head. He's that loud. But lately, he's switched things up. He's decided that our sense of hearing has had enough of a workout and now it's time to rev up our sense of smell.

Ok, these poohs or should I say small natural disasters smell like nothing you've ever smelt before. This kid's bum should come with it's own laminated warning label.

So now we don't have the heads up to when he's done a whopper. Usually with the grunting and growling we knew that he had delivered a package. But now. Silence......No cues, no warnings....Silence. Whoever said silence is golden needs to be smacked in the head.

It's not until you're about 3 metres away that you realise something is terribly wrong. And the scent is being emitted by the human in a onesie.

Lordy. It's an all round nostril assault. It makes you gag. It makes you say, 'Jesus Christ' very loudly. If you were southern, it would make you say, 'Da-yum'.

So that's just the smell. Then you actually have to deal with it. Until now, changing Sticky Baby has actually been rather fine. Neat and tidy really. But now. Da-yum. Papadada and I are a few nappies shy of constructing a baby tool-belt with an endless supply of wet-wipes that you can pull out at will. You need about 20 to clean this mess up. And it's all techni-colour in there. Neon has made a resurgence.

The good thing is that you CAN avoid being the one to clean it up. Because the production of one of these horrors is silent, all it really takes is a strategic whiff in Sticky Baby's direction and all of a sudden you can be all, 'Oh, better hang out the laundry. I'll get it' or 'Gotta load the dishwasher, but don't worry, it's my turn' or better yet, 'You've been at work, why don't you enjoy play time with Sticky Baby and I'll get dinner ready'. I'm evil. Truly I am. Although not an evil genius, as Papadada reads all my posts.......shit....love you! 


We're going through that many nappies of late that we've decided to allow free-balling a few times a day. With this hot weather and Sticky Baby's love of the backyard wading pool, it's a win-win situation. I captured this photo post-explosive pooh, Sticky Baby naked as the day he was born, catching a few zzzzs in his swing. Bless him. And his bum. 

And there goes my boob...

Sticky Baby has come up with some new noises. They are gold.

Noise number 1 can only be described as the hissing sound made by giant Madagascan cockroaches. Such baby cuteness, don't you think? Works a treat when old ladies approach him at the supermarket....HISSSSSSS! I present you my son, the albino madagascan roach. And good day to you too... Can you blame me for wanting to videotape it for you? I thought not.

Noise number 2 is a series of Hitler-esque shouts, complete with arm in the air. Scary. We don't encourage it. But still worthy of taping.

This is what happened when I attempted to shoot with the iphone. I got mauled.



That blood-curdling scream came from yours truly when Sticky Baby decided to rip my boob off with his eagle-like claws. It's a small price I am willing to pay for fabulous footage. Of course, no fab footage here. Just me screaming. Watch this space for mini-Adolf and cockroach boy. I will get it...just a matter of time...

"The Excalibur of Thongs"

Yes, that is a direct quote from Papadada. Read on for an explanation...brace yourselves.








Papadada has been lusting over a pair of thongs for weeks now (there is so much wrong with that sentence).

He spotted them a while ago and ever since that fateful encounter, between human and thong, he has been agonizing over not having bought them on the spot. They had disappeared.

Today, the sky opened up and angels descended upon my husband and led him to the holy grail of flip flops. Thongs found. It was love at second sight, all over again.

So yes, to continue his quotation once said hideous footwear had been purchased...

"They are the Excalibur of thongs. Look at them. I've been waiting 30 years for you (the thongs, not me). They are like surfboards for my feet".

Just as I lust over Jimmy Choo pumps, Papadada drools over ridiculously wide thongs. He calls them 'Bongs' short for 'Bogan Thongs'. Seriously, ugliest things ever. Wide, just so wide. Why Papadada, whyyyyyy? Your foot is so long as it is, do we have to add breadth to its resume too? The photos really don't give them justice. These things are behemoths. shudder.

Summer is upon us and I know I have to dig deep and find a place in my heart for these things, 'cause you know they will be stuck to his giant feet for the next 3 months. So help me Jesus.

Sticky Piccie - And he's up!

He's been working on this for a while. He has a serious kung-fu ninja grip on those rails. Even throws in a few one-handed holds just to get my heart racing.

I got it wrong - again

I got mothers day wrong again. Seriously, I'm not even kidding. Not today. Next Sunday. Papadada is ready to kill me. Who was the idiot who told me that in France it was the 3rd Sunday of May? And I swear all the billboards pointed to today. I even saw a man buying flowers today, so that about sealed the deal for me. And like I said to a stunned Papadada, I even saw heaps of mums out today. Such a dead giveaway, no?  Seeing I've tried to celebrate mothers day 4 times this month, I'm hoping Papadada won't ban it in this house for the next 4 years. That would be harsh. Way harsh.

We were invited for a fabulous lunch with some friends today, so of course I thought it only natural to tell them it was french mothers day. The done thing. So everyone wished me (the only mother there) a happy french mothers day. It was glorious. If only it was actually true. Lies. All lies.

So I confessed the truth to Papadada. I was flicking through my beloved green filofax and saw that today is actually 'Pentecost', not 'fete des meres' (mums day). That's when it dawned on me. Crapola. I've done it again. Error numero 3. Gulp. He looked at me like I had 5 eyeballs. There was silence between us for a few seconds. Then I made him go pick up the pizzas we ordered...'cause it's mothers day.

Sticky Piccie - High chair hose-down

 This is how we clean high chairs around here. Note the perp in the corner...

It's a messy business being a parent.

Finally it's french mothers day..I promise!

So I know I've gotten the dates wrong several times, milking Papadada for all it's worth for 3 weekends running. They were honest mistakes, I swear. But today really is french mothers day. There are even billboards saying so. Lots of chocolate and flower ads going around. Today is deffo the day. So, in honour of this very special event, I thought I'd post yet another video of Sticky Baby. This one smells like summer..



We blew up the inflatable baby pool yesterday and Sticky Baby has taken to it like Ian Thorpe, minus the full-body seal suit. Sticky Baby prefers going 'free willy' + sun shirt + sun hat. No swimmer nappy, no baby budgie smugglers. He likes to let it all hang out. And with a bum like that, can you blame him?

 I could eat him alive. No really, I could.

Ageing sux

I'm getting old.
I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just facing facts.



And here they are:




1/ My eyes are betraying me. I think I need glasses. In fact I am so certain I need specs that I have booked in to see a Ophthalmologist (eye doctor in french...how do we say it in English? I can't even remember..oh God, not my memory too....shit balls). My eyes burn and I get migraines whenever I'm in front of the 'puter or the tele. It's not good. And hello, but where does one find cool eye glasses? Had a look in a shop and was mor-ti-fied. Mortified. Even googled 'celebrity eye glasses'. It came up with a very unflattering photo of Hilary Duff and some crazy-ace pic of Kanye West. And what's with the Woody Allen-style glasses that seem to be everywhere? Ridonkulous amount of celebs wearing them (yes, K-West was one of them) and they are littered throughout all the spec stores I walk into. Let's be clear. I'm neither male nor Jewish nor THAT OLD so this trend ain't gonna work for me.

2/ Then there's my teeth. All of a sudden it's as if my choppers got a memo from my internal birthday alarm saying, 'Your host is now 30. Please turn your sensitivity meter to a BILLION MEGA WATS! Teach that be-yatch a lesson! Show her who's boss! No more cold drinks, no more warm drinks for that matter, and STRIKE like an angry python at any given moment!' So I took my 30-year old tush down to the pharmacy and had to buy some Sensodyne. I may as well have been buying denture glue. That's how old I felt. It did make me feel a little better that Papadada had to buy some 'speciality toothpaste' (I am calling it that now...no more references to the 'S' word, please)  a few months ago....He was all like, "My teeth are sore, I must have a shit-load of holes in there. Make an appointment with the dentist, will ya?" and I was all like, "Dude, they're going to drill the shit out of your mouth, you haven't been to a dentist in years", and he was all like, "Shut up and hold my hand woman". So off to the french dentist we skipped and low and behold, Papadada did not have any holes. Not one single sign of decay. Just tooth sensitivity. Hence the Sensodyne 'specialty toothpaste'. Ok blah blah blah this post sux balls.

Upon reflection, I see that there are really only 2 points to my ageing post. But look, I'm sure I can dig up a few more, just to prove my point. Ok...ooh! Here's one! How about the fact that I have to drag my sorry self to bed before 10pm each night otherwise I'm as good as dead the next day. But that's not ageing that's just babies. Let's see here....ooh! I know! My joints crack, like, all the time. Seriously, it's all snap, crackle and pop over here. Rice Bubbles ain't got shit on me.

It's 9:41pm. I'm boring myself to tears. Sorry for the lamest post in the history of my blog (and the one with the most swearing, sorry fambos). Blame it on my lack of youthful vigour. Keep you posted on the spectacle scenario. Off to brush my choppers....

PS: Just had to say that Papadada has never said 'Shut up' to me EVER, nor has he called me 'Woman', nor have I called him 'Dude'. Goodnight.

'Cause we all talk to our socks...don't we?

The dialogue between infant and sock that went down in our house this afternoon.

I'm a poet and I didn't even know it

With this head, I will make important decision for you

With this mind, I will dream a big dream for you

With these eyes, I will watch out for you and see you grow

With these lips, I will kiss you and tell you I love you

With these shoulders, I will bear the responsibility of your life

With these arms, I will hold you, protect you and give you endless hugs

With these hands, I will feed you and stroke you goodnight every night

With these hips, I gave you life

With these legs, I will run after you and play chasies in the back yard

This body has a whole new meaning now that I've had you. A purpose like no other.

Love,
Mum xo

He's a genius, what can I say

Sticky Baby claps like the best of em'. He's talented. That's all there is to it.

Breakfast adventures

Papadada has the day off from work today. Love that. Feels like a Saturday but really it's only Thursday. He even let me sleep in which was heaven.

The sun is shining, the infamous gazillion-mile-an-hour wind that tears through our town isn't too bad today. Might even attempt a family bike ride. Note to self: Be sure to strap Sticky Baby down to his bike seat in a big way. Harness may not suffice.

Breakfast this morning was kinda exciting. We are getting more and more adventurous with Sticky Baby's diet now that the months are ticking by and his intestinal resistance is getting up there. Mind you, the child eats just about anything we put before him. We are blessed to have created a mini-human insinkerator. Last week he ate curry for dinner. Yes, curry. Smacked his lips and said, "Pass the Naan bread please".

So, back to the point. Breakfast this morning. I've done a lot of research on the topic, given the chances of allergic reactions and the like, but we finally decided that scrambled eggs were going to be on the menu for Sticky Baby. Scrambled googlies and toast. Sure beats rice cereal and the age old apple puree. Sticky Baby was stoked. His little platter looked so cute and inviting that we had to take a photo of it. Someone was not impressed with our priorities..

Ok, so despite his look of sheer frustration and agony, Sticky Baby gobbled up brekky with gusto. Loved it. He followed it up with a beautiful rosy peach and then this....

A big chunk of banana bread. I've never seen such a small human shovel so much food into his mouth at once. We ended up having to shake him outside, like a rug, to get all the crumbs off him.

Full belly later, our lovely, super Sticky Baby is upstairs napping it up like a champ.

Sticky Piccie - Pram 'tude

"How YOU doin'"

"Ok, enough of the tough-guy act. I'm back to being cute!"
(Note to mum: What is with those booties woman?)

Japanese is so hot right now

Today Papadada and I had lunch at my favourite japanese spot in town, Naniwa. More like Nani-hell-to-the-yes. Not your regular sushi-train set up, but rather an a la carte scenario with the freshest of fresh makis, seaweed salads, sticky rice, tofu concoctions and other delicious tidbits that bring joy to the palette.

I had a major run-in with my wasabi. I am usually a pro with my soy-sauce-to-wasabi equation. I blew it big time. My nasal passages spent a brief moment in hades as the green fire roared through my schnozzle.

So we're waiting for our fish in a dish, sunning our wintry white limbs in the sun (by the way sun, thanks for making a friggin' appearance after eons of being AWOL), when a group of late 20-something guys and gals take their places at the little japanesie tables surrounding ours. Total scenesters. Seriously, Scene-Sters. There was so much cool exuding from their little posse they could hardly bear it themselves. Their vintage Ray Bans, skinny jeans and latest 'it' bags (even some man-bags thrown in the mix) were screaming, 'We are hipper than hip, cooler than cool, and we are gracing you with our presence.Watch us strut to the rhythm of our wickedness'.

We ended up being flanked by the try-hards. A mini-herd of them on either side of our table. Papadada wearing cargo shorts and a $5 t-shirt, me rocking the classic jeans and white t-shirt combo. No 'it' bags, no long thin ciggies, no designer tousled locks here.

These kids couldn't get enough of themselves. There were so many i-phones being flashed that Apple inc. would've had a joy-gasm somewhere in the Silicon Valley. And the conversations were hilarious. One of the coo-hool boys, whilst ordering, was asked by the waitress if he wanted rice with that. His response:

"Oh God, rice, no, I hate that stuff"

I died laughing and began translating to Papadada, without realising of course that this generation of frenchies more than likely has a strong grasp on the English language. Tough titties. Beat it hipsters. I will laugh at you time and time again.

Their dialogues were peppered with lots of "Aren't you glad I introduced you to that group of people" and "I was SO going to buy those same Ray Bans the other day. They are 'trop chock'" (french for 'way cool') and "Mon dieu, that weekend in Morocco was just what I needed". VOMIT! And can you please high-tail it back to Marrakesh, 'cause I just can't deal with how trendy you are. It's. just. too. much.

In all honesty though, the french can dress. What lay before us, perfectly posed on their japanese sun loungers, was a 4D fashion catalogue. Every single outfit was perfection, from the neutral patent ballet flats on one mademoiselle, to the classic tailored white shirt on a young monsieur. Makeup was minimal to let that natural french beauty do its thing. The boys' hair was perfectly messy. Seriously, I think I just threw up a little seaweed in my mouth.

Walking Jelly Baby

Do these count as first steps? We know they don't but we were so impressed with his 'one foot in front of the other' skills that we just had to tape it! And doesn't he look like the cutest giant jelly baby?!!

Yummy bubby.

Sticky Piccie - Sc-hooligan

He hates school. No really, he does. Can't you tell? That smile screams, "I'm miserable at Nanny B's house with my posse of friends". And yes, that is his giant lunch bag. Probably why he's smiling so much, come to think of it. He's counting his edible blessings - banana, puree, yoghurt, cheese stick...mmmmmmmm.

Sticky Piccie - Swinging in the Rain

Sticky Baby swinging in the courtyard after a rain storm. Love that swing! Best 10 Euros we ever spent.

Diaper Dilemma

We had a nappy emergency tonight.

Sticky Baby is pooping like it's going out of fashion at the moment. Every nappy is soiled with an almighty bog. He's not sick. He's just into pooping a lot.

Consequently, I completely overlooked how many nappies we had left, seeing as we don't usually go through 9 per day. I am usually very organised when it comes to bubbalino supplies. I'm close to having acquired a lifetime supply of baby wipes and Sudocreme.

But this evening, when it came time to gather his bath time accoutrement, EEGAD! GASP! Only 1 precious nappy left! What about tomorrow morning when his nappy is so loaded with wee that he has a Beyonce-esque badonka-donk? I needed back-up, now. Actually, yesterday, but now will do.

Papadada took care of bath, bottle and bed as I sped off like a bat out of hell through our neighbourhood, in desperate search of some store, any store kind enough to be open on a Sunday. Yahood to myself in the car when I found a convenience store that was conveniently shining it's OPEN light unto the world. You beauty. Damn it, spoke too soon. They only stocked newborn 3-6kgs nappies. Sticky Baby grew out of those when he was 3 hours old. Maybe convenient stores assume that by the time your baby reaches 12 kilos, you have your shit together enough to have lots of nappies in store. Grrrrrr. Don't assume people. Assuming is rude. I misjudged nappy quantities. I DO have my shit together, I really, really DO!

So no purchase made at the judgemental corner store. Instead, SOS phone call to my girlfriend a few streets down. Gotta love the gals.

4 nappies in hand, I am saved. We are saved. Sticky Baby won't have to suffer through a MacGyver nappy creation - I was already planning lots of paper towel, a few head bands, maybe a sponge or two. Phew!

Black eye blues

This is what I awoke to this morning. Papadada with a bloody, stitched-up gash under his eye and a broken nose. Possible broken eye socket too. Grrrreeeeeat. I may as well be in bed with Rocky Balboa. All in a day's work, I know. I should be used to it by now. You can pick your jaws up from the floor now. "ADRIANNNNNN"

I broke me blog...

Some of you may be scratching your heads and wondering why the colours and fonts of my wee blog have changed...then again, no one probably gives a rat's tushy. Humour me, will you?

Well, my world stopped spinning for a few minutes last night as I accidentally, nearly deleted the whole damn thing in an attempt to jazz up my template. Ba-buuuuhhhhhh! (buzzer noise). Idiot overload. Cannot compute. Melt-down. Melt-down.....whirrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I should know by now that I am no tech-genius, not by a long shot. Mini-embolism later, I managed to salvage my precious, ground-breaking content (again, humour me) but my whole layout and blog appearance was forever altered. Boo to the hoo.

I hope the new colour combos are not too vulgar and harsh on the old eyeballs. I miss you old blog. Though you were only 46 posts long, I will miss your lovely palette and Verdana/Arial/Georgia font (I wish I could remember which font you bloody well were, you stoopid blog!)

I HATE COMPUTERS! SOMEONE FIND ME A FREE BLOG DESIGNER!

No really, I'm ok. I've accepted the new look. I'm embracing it. I'm fine with it, really I am. Can you tell how fine with it I am??

Holy Vespa!

Behold Papadada's new set of wheels.

A vintage 1980 yellow Vespa. We bought it for a song. Wheeled and dealed like we were in the backstreets of Bangkok.

We've named it 'Ze BumbleBee'. Or at least I've named it that. Papadada prefers 'The Wasp'. I think it's a bit of a stretch for a dinged-up scooter, but it does have a lot of zing about it, I'll admit that!

Papadada is a mechanical genius so he is gearing up (no pun intended) to give it a thorough once-over. He is presently in the garage playing with a screwdriver or some tool-ish thingamigigi. I am a tool expert.

The decision to purchase Ze BumbleBee came after one of Papadada's mates bought an old Vespa a few months ago. I've never heard men giggle that much from sheer joy and excitement. Truth be told, Papadada and his cohorts are not the smallest of boys, so you can imagine how comedic a giant man on a tiny vehicle really is. Also, seeing as we don't know how much longer we'll be in France for, we've decided to down-size in a lot of areas, and a Vespa is a definite down-size from a giant Peugeot Scooter, a Honda CR 500 dirt bike, and another old motorbike that we acquired. Yes, Papadada is a vehicle hoarder. Loves anything with a motor. Whipper-snippers, Lawn mowers, anything with an engine - all welcome in our garage.

So all of the aforementioned vehicles are in the process of being sold. Yesssss! Finally some room in the garage and some moo-lah in our pockets!

The other benefit of buying Ze BumbleBee is that I will actually be able to ride it! Not too heavy, like the other bikes that Papadada has had in the past. It will be the perfect accessory to my summer wardrobe. I think I should invest in a chic head scarf a la Brigitte Bardot. Helmets are so last season.

Hmmmm....I wonder if we could find a scooter side-car on ebay for Sticky Baby to sit in..Now that would be too cool. Very Dick Dastardly and Muttley the hench-dog co-pilot. Loved that cartoon.

Sticky Piccie - Baguette Boy

Ever the classic french-man, Sticky Baby falls asleep with baguette in his mouth. Priceless.

Date Night!

Can anyone say D-to-the-night?






Date Night with Papadada - last night - so exciting - got a baby sitter for Sticky Baby - wore heels - did my hairs - slapped on some facial paint - looked rather nice - Papadada was smoking hot - Why am I writing in point form? CEASE AND DESIST!

We went to a chic restau we've been dying to try for over a year, La Galinette.  The food was heavenly. The wine, devilishly good. I even indulged in a Kir Royale as an apperitif - It's my new favo drink. French champagne with a dash of blackcurrant liqueur. Booya!

We had a whale of a time together, Papadada and I. We even limited our convos to only 12 Sticky Baby topics. Rather impressive if you ask me.

Papadada made me laugh too hard, as per usual. Here is a photo I took of him as he attacked his Foie Gras entree.

Now I know the french delicacy, Foie Gras, is very controversial for some. I can see why it is so taboo. I get it. But it's so damn good. Please don't hate us for enjoying stuffed geese liver. It doesn't define who we are. But Papadada cannot go to a french food establishment without ordering this dish. It's hilarious when he eats it. He uses words like 'heroine hit' and 'I think I'm going to pass out'...and he's deadly serious. This photo was taken in the midst of what I like to call his 'Foie Gr-asm'.

Unfortunately, our evening took a turn for the worse when we realised that the hooligan teenagers in the holiday house next door weren't going to shut their cake holes until 3am. That about sums it up really. The insulation in this house is non-existent and we heard every last noise they were making, from high heels clomping, to beer mugs being rinsed out at the sink, to pubescent boys singing 'Hey there Delilah'. SHUT UP! Papadada and I ended up knocking on their door at 3am in our pjs. So uncool. I tried to come off as the understanding, hip, trendy 30 year olds next door. But my pink and grey slippers betrayed me. I think they quietly shat themselves when they saw Papadada shirtless. All noise ended abruptly after that. Go muscles!!!!

So I'm a bit worse for wear this morning, I must admit. IV of coffee straight into my blood stream would be grand. We let Sticky Baby yodel in his crib for a good 30 minutes this morning. Just enough for the sound to pierce their soggy, alcohol-drenched brains. And we also let him play in the pots and pans cupboard after breakfast. Oh, sweet revenge!

Looking forward to our next date night minus the noisy tweens.

PS: Those bread sticks you see in that picture were da bomb. Still dreaming of their sunflower seed-coated crispness...

Here Figgy Figgy..

The fabo fig tree that hangs into our courtyard. Plotting to pluck a few for delicious summer lunches...hmmmm....can anyone say oven-baked proscuitto wrapped figs?! THIEF! 

It's going to be a gold mine!

You know how baby girls always have the most scrumptious head-gear for their bald heads? Gorgeous, vintage-y flower head bands and the like? Well, I thought I might be able to launch Boy-Bands....And please stop thinking about Backstreet Boys and N'sync....

How ki-yute is that?? Granted, I haven't put much thought into them....yet. This black head band of mine was laying abandoned under our kitchen table and I decided to put it on Sticky Baby's noggin, just to play dress-ups. Yes, he's my very own living doll. And No, I'm not about to go entering him in some freaky mid-western pageant.

But seriously, I think I'm on to something here. It's totally chic! It speaks to me! It says, 'I'm a baby but I've got the it factor, all thanks to my Mama L Boy-Band'. I smell millions...

Papadada came home and ripped it off him. Boo hoo. Oh well, who's the stay at home mum here?!?! I AM! Hahahahha (evil laugh) - When you're at work I'll be Boy-Banding him up to the shiz! Hahahahha (more evil laughing).

I need feedback people. I'll give you a cut.

FREEDOM

 I need someone to restrain me from climbing up to our roof and screaming

"It's my day offffffffff! I have a facial booked at 10:30am and then a hair cut a twooooooo! Goodbye Frizz! Hello glowing skin cells!!!!!"

Sticky Baby is with Nanny B today. I'm a bit excited. I've already run around the house semi-naked just for shits and giggles. 'Cause I can. And I haven't cleaned up breakfast yet. 'Cause I can. And I haven't even made the bed....'Cause I plan to get back in it at some point post-facial, pre-hair cut.

My teenage rebellious streak is doing its darndest to rip through the cool, calm, collected, sensible Mama-veil.

Anyone feel like egging the neighbour's house with me?

2 Front Teef

Sticky Piccie - Chameleon Camo

"If I stay very very still, maybe she'll make the bed with me in it. I loves me my lime green pjs!!"

Absurd things I catch myself saying to my baby...

You know your life has done a complete 360 when you start saying these daffy things..

"You've got porridge up your shnoz"

"Congratulations on a beautifully formed poo-poo"

"A vom-patch is exactly what this outfit needed. Thanks!"

"Must you destroy everything I own?"

"Hold mummy's hands and puuuuuusssshhhhh" (to encourage him in the midst of a bowel movement)

"I want to pour chocolate sauce all over you, roll you up like a crepe and eat you! Num num num num" (those are my sound effects for kissing bubbies)

"You look like a human weetbix"


"Can you please not touch your ears with your avocado-hands"

Monday Gem

I think this is killer. Check it out.

Modern Bird Studios

Wouldn't that make the BEST present for someone? Papadada, if you're reading my blog (you should be, it's an insight into my soul) can you bookmark their website for future Mothers day/birthday/Christmas/I love my wife just because days?? Love you!

I loves me a FREEBIE!

I'm going to pretend for a second that I have a Ga-Zillion readers and followers on my wee blog...and that a tonne of them are in the grand 'ol state of New York.

If indeed this is true, then feast your beady little eyes on this! A fab friend of mine from my 'fashionista' days in Manhattan has turned her fabulous focus from modelling to photography. She is doing some gob-smacking work and her talent is up for grabs for those of you who are knocked up and ready to pop! If only Sticky baby, Papadada and I were back in the big apple, we would be hogging Jess' lens in a heart-beat!

Contact Jess if you are in the Tri-State area and want some gorgeous pics of your wittle-won that will make everyone's ovaries twitch. (Click on the above poster for her details). You'd be stoopid if you didn't. DO IT!

Where has all the glamour gone?

It's official.

My glam-factor is going down the shitter. If glamour was a person, I'd want to punch it in the face right now.

Seriously, I avoid looking at myself in the mirror these days. I prefer to dim the lights. Or better yet feel around on my face for any pieces of left-over food/baby goop before I head out the door.

My hair has never been so BLAH in all my life. What a bitch-slap that is after 9 months of glorious, healthy, show-stopping locks. I even attempted a blow-dry this morning - something I never do - this gal can't wrangle a blow dryer if her life depended on it. Meanwhile, back at the ugly ranch, not the result i was hoping for! Hair still berry berry frizzy.WTF?! My hair has NE-VER been frizzy before! I used to laugh in the face of all those John Frieda frizz-ease bottles. "Hahahahah, you stoopid little de-frizzers!". Karma's a bitch...

I have an army of short hairs sticking out, like baby hairs..and they're mocking me on a daily basis. No amount of hairspray will make them DIE, no head band is tight enough. Gloss and sheen left the building yonks ago. I must be deficient..but I'm taking a women's multi-vitamin. DAMN IT!

My skin is feeling old, sallow and gray, despite caring for it relatively well - the basics really. Cleanse and moisturise and occasionally exfoliate and once in a blue moon chuck on a mask. And just no time or desire for makeup. I swore 'til I was black and blue in the face that I wouldn't turn into one of those mums that forgo their makeup! For the love of all things holy, shmear on some tinted moisturiser and poke around with a mascara wand, will ya?! (That's me talking to myself).

And my clothes....feels like a sporty teenager's closet barfed all over me. I swear - jeans, t-shirts, yoga pants, sneakers, baseball cap. Dear God, WHY?!?  I am craving a pair of heels like this but I've almost lost the 'sass' to wear them. I would feel AWKWARD and THAT scares me!! Since when do i feel awkward in heels!!!! WHO AM I!?!?

CRISIS!

I feel like going GI Jane on my hair.

My darling friend Sa$$y Lady Lawyer and I workshopped my crisis today on msn messenger. The issue arose after she posted a picture of those heavenly shoes on her blog. It's all your fault woman!

She kindly suggested I go out to dinner with my hubster, but the truth is I'll be too scared to wear heels in fear of looking like a sallow-faced hooker with frizzy hair.

To continue with my self-loathing for the night...

Yesterday evening, after putting Sticky Baby to bed, I ate 1/3 bag of M&Ms. I can feel each individual 'M' turning into a blob of cellulite.

Ok, peace out people. I'm happy to be alive, I'm grateful for all that I have and all that I am. Don't go into frantic 'Help Mama L' mode, please. I'm fine. I just need to brush my hair, maybe get the gay hairdresser across the street to chuck in a treatment, and dig out some tinted moisturiser. She'll be right.

xoxo

Sicky Sticky Piccie

Does that little face not scream, "I'm SICKKKKKK'! I HATE COLDS!"? Poor darling is into Day 3 of his run-in with bacteria. As for me,  my snot-vacuuming skills are slammin'. It's amazing what new tricks you develop as a mum. Although I think I can keep that one off my CV for now....S'not that appealing....mum joke...someone kick me.

Merry Mothers Day

It's my first official Mothers Day! Sound the trumpets, toll the bells, send out the little dude in the funny hat who rolls out a sign and says 'Hear ye, Hear ye'!

I feel so privileged to be part of this club. All these years of planning with my sister for our mum's present.. Now MY little family is plotting for ME! Yessssss! And can I just say how heart warming it was when an alarm went off on Papadada's iphone, signaling 'Mothers day on Sunday. Buy Mama L a pressie'.  God love a man like that!

As I've mentioned in a previous post, Mothers day here in France is actually the 3rd Sunday of May, not the 2nd. But I'm still wishing everyone everywhere else a Happy Mothers day. In fact, I think I'll celebrate both dates, seeing I'm a quasi-Australian mum and a quasi-French mum. I really like the word quasi. Anyhoo, think of me next weekend, basking in the glory of yet another day of the year where I get a present! BRING IT ON!

No, in all seriousness, is there anything better than being a mum? Some may argue that sleep-ins, total freedom, excessive veg-ing, partying it up in Ibiza, and eating out every night ranks up there. And I see your point. But just the other day, Sticky Baby actually vocalized something sounding very much like...MUM!! Papadada and I promptly turned into shrieking lunatics, repeating 'Mum Mum Mum Mum' in varying pitches and tones...like that's not going to scar the kid from ever saying that word again! Papadada has been instrumental in getting Sticky Baby to say Mum. Why? Because the man loves me to bits that's why! But mostly because Sticky Baby sorta said 'dadadadadada' first....and he's felt the guilt ever since..

So this Mothers Day I am hoping and praying for my itty bitty Sticky boy to say loudly and proudly and ever so clearly, 'Mumumumumum'.  Happy Mothers Day everyone!

This has totally brightened up my 'Sick Sticky Baby' day. I aspire to be them. And when the day comes for Papadada and I to buy a 'Swagger Wagon', I will be smiling all the way to the dealership. Enjoy!

SOS

Sticky Baby is sick. He contracted the cold I've been fighting off for the past 10 days. It's a battle field in here.

Papadada left at the crack of dawn this morning for another 3-day work trip. I felt like latching on to his ankle and screaming, "Don't leave me alone with snot-monster!" but I think that would alarm the neighbours.

Didn't catch any quality zzzzzs whatsoever last night. Was waiting for Sticky Baby to wake and need me, which he miraculously didn't.  Was also afraid that the vaporiser we set up in his room would blow up from a) too many globs of Vicks Vaporub in it or b) the water drying up and frying it. Peaceful thoughts.

Vaporiser and elevated mattress seemed to work their magic. Sticky Baby seemed better when he woke up, but the runny schnoz returns with a vengeance about half an hour in.

Out comes the artillery. The nose vacuum, the seawater nasal spray, the dozens of hot washers to clean his face with.

Can I just say that trying to suck your baby's snot out with a mini vacuum cleaner could very well be the hardest thing EVER! They work like a treat, but I just don't have the heart/strength to pin him down, shove the thing up his hooter and suck away through the tube. He thrashes around like the ending of Jaws 2. I'm terrified of hurting him. And the screaming doesn't help. I really could never have been a ER doctor.

There is nothing quite like the wrath of a sick baby. Irritability has sky rocketed. If he could fit himself into my bra and hang around in there for the day, he would. He wants to be close to me all the time, which makes perfect sense. But the practicality of that is well...impractical. I think I'll just tie the baby carrier on and do some serious weight training all day.

And I can kiss much-needed social visits goodbye. No one wants to hang around a sick baby. You suck SUCKERS!

I need a giant fairy with a wing span full of antibodies to land in my living room NOW!

Gene Simmons Eat Your Heart Out

I just spent the last 10 minutes with Sticky Baby on my lap, facing me, and inspecting my tongue.

It was so interesting to watch his facial expression as he looked at it closely, poked it, caressed it, with one hand, then both hands. He was surprisingly gentle.

Seriously, these are the moments when you realise that bubbas really are learning about everything. We take for granted all there is to know about this world. Even tongues.

Oh my God.....So jealous of Tokyo right now!

Check it out. I Found this on one of my favourite websites www.splendora.com. I need one of these in my neighbourhood, pronto!

Tokyo Baby Cafe

Another amusing design by Tokyo-based design studio Nendo, this child-friendly cafe in Aoyama features a giant sofa, a playroom full of toys, a few private rooms and nursing/diaper stations and a full library for mothers to sit back and relax while the kids are having a blast.