Domestic Blisters

Nice Iced Slices – two easy ways with puff pastry

Things have been slow (non existent) on the blog for many weeks now. I’ve been doing some creative writing and I’ve gotten stuck in to muddles and puddles with it all. Loads of ideas and loads of half written stories and poetry. I’m sure there’s something good in there but I just haven’t managed to root it out yet.

So, as an interlude, I bring you this. Easy party treats. If you’re not a whizz in the kitchen but would like to bring something homemade to a party then these are two very easy options.

1. Iced Slices













You will need:


One box of ready rolled puff pastry

Filling options:





Stewed apple

Fresh fruit

Topping options:

Icing sugar

Food colouring

Instant coffee


How to:

Open out the pastry and cut it into slices of approximately 2″x 3″ or use a pastry cutter. (Second time doing this I used a small scalloped edge cutter to make bitesized versions. Fancy schmancy!)


Place on a baking tray and in to a 180c preheated oven for about 10 minutes. Until they look like this.



Place on a wire rack to cool. They cool really quickly.

While they are cooling pull them apart, pulling the top from the bottom like so. Eat any ones that might go wrong.


When fully cooled spread some of your fillings on the base of each bottom section. First time out I chose raspberry jam and custard on half and strawberry jam and cream on the rest. Don’t be tempted to overfill. It’ll all just squish out the side when you try to eat them. Overfill one of them and eat it. You deserve it. Lick your fingers, wash your hands and get on with the next bit.



Cover with the top section.

Mix up your icing sugar for the top of the treat. Add some food colouring if you’re feeling fancy. If you’re making the coffee icing then mix your coffee with water first and then add it gradually to the icing sugar. Do taste it to make sure it’s not too strong.

The icing should be pretty thick so you can drop a blob of it on the top and then let it decide where it wants to go.


Tip: If you are choosing different fillings then colour code the icing on top. The custard ones above have the coffee icing and the cream ones have yellow icing.

The whole lot probably takes about thirty minutes to make. If you are taking them to a party you should probably allow the icing a little time to harden so they don’t all stick together.


2. Mini Cinnamon Rolls

This is one where you can let the kids help or let the kids decide that they are going to help. I really didn’t have a choice about their assistance on this one.

You will need:

A box of ready rolled puff pasty


Caster sugar

Icing sugar

Melted butter

How to:

Open up your sheet of ready rolled puff pastry (long side parallel to you)

Mix cinnamon and caster sugar together. The quantities for this are really a personal choice. I love cinnamon but erred on the conservative side for these.

Brush the melted butter all over the pastry.

Allow your children to sprinkle the sugar mixture over the pastry and whinge over who gets to do it first. Or avoid this issue like I did and give each of the little darlings their own sheet of pastry.


Cut the pastry in half widthways. Roll up each half (left to right not top to bottom) into a long sausage roll shape.

Use some of the melted butter to seal the edge of the roll and stop it from opening out.

Cut the roll with a sharp knife into roughly 1.5 inch slices.


Place flat onto a baking tray and cook in a 180c preheated oven for about 12 minutes.


Allow to cool on a wire rack.

Mix up some icing sugar and drizzle it over the rolls.


I didn’t even have enough time to put the icing on before Diva was chomping into them.

And there you have it party people. I’ve used these recipes twice recently and they went down a treat. I was probably my own best customer! Enjoy.







I love you even

Cherubs reduced pixels

A mother’s love is like no other. My children have become my world. Everything I do in life references back to them first. However, all children, including my little cherubs, can be a handful. They all have their moments, they all have their tantrums and we love them in spite of it all. I sing some silly songs to my three including one that goes (to the tune of “This Old Man”)

“Oh my dear, I love you                                                                                                     Even when you smell like poo”

It’s hardly Lloyd Webber and Rice but it seems to amuse the little folks in my house who find anything poo related to be especially funny. As lovable as they are most of the time there will always be other times when they do something that isn’t quite so lovable. They are what I call the “I love you even” moments. Here are some of them.

I love you even when you tell me I have a big arse.

I love you even when I put food in my mouth and realise that it’s already been in yours.

I love you even when I’ve walked around in public for an hour without knowing your Nutella kisses were on my face.

I love you even when I smell the stain on your clothes and hope it’s chocolate but it’s actually something else (not Nutella either).

I love you even when I find out the “chipped paint” on your bedroom wall is actually your booger collection.

Booger Wall

I love you even when I sit down on the toilet and feel the droplets from your last visit on my leg.

I love you even when I make Annabel Karmel chicken gougons from scratch and you want a chunk of cheese for dinner instead.

I love you even when I stand on your Batman Lego pieces or even better skate across the hall on your Lego Duplo blocks.

I love you even when two of you cry solidly for ten minutes because I forgot to explain that the jelly has to set before we can eat it.

I love you even when you use permanent marker to draw smiley faces on the sitting room wall. And then also make a video of you singing “Happy Birthday” to the smiley faces.

Smiley faces

I love you even when you stick your fingers in my mouth and I get to sample the culinary delights of jam and fluff.

I love you even when you drop your pants in the middle of the busy park for a wee while I’m chatting to some nice people I’ve just met.

I love you even when two of you decide to take off your pjs and pull ups and wet your beds just as me and Tall Man have are settling down with a takeaway and a movie. For the craic.

I love you even when I can’t sleep properly because my back is banjaxed from carrying two of you inside my body at the same time for 38 weeks and then carrying two bigger versions of you around on the outside of my body for the last three years.

My babies, I love you always.



Linking up with Friday-Frolics-Linky-Badge


Liebster Award

Liebster Award Badge

An award already??!!!!!!!! Well sort of. The Liebster Award is an award given by bloggers to bloggers. It’s a way of connecting with other bloggers. A big thank you to Tess of OneDizzyBee for the nomination.  Very funny lady whose blog is well worth a look.

My first blog post was published in November 2015 so I’m still really new to the “scene”. As the weeks have gone on I’ve noticed that my notions of what blogging entails wasn’t quite what it actually is. Blogging appears to be less about writing for the sake of writing but more about connecting with those who also write, comment and create. There has been an unintentional but very lovely side effect of bringing myself out of my shell and putting my words into typeface. That is that everyone in this electronic space has been supportive and encouraging.

It’s like a support group for introverts where we get to reach out to another human being without actually ever having to move too far out of our own comfort zone. It wasn’t really my intention to connect and network much while I was blogging but it’s kind of part of the package. I thought I would just put what I wanted to write out there and maybe a few people might like it and that would be about it. For me, creating a blog was to give me the time and headspace that I have neglected to give myself for the last three years. I quickly realised once joining social media with my blog that the blogging community are just so fluffing nice. People blogging about the same topics are patting each other on the virtual backs with mentions, likes and retweets. This award is testament to the ethos of the blogging folks. It’s almost like a bunch of four years olds meeting in a playground and deciding to become friends. There’s none of the social awkwardness that comes with making friends as an adult. It’s completely unabashed “Hi. I like you. Do you want to be my friend? Ponies are my favourite too.” It’s charming and brilliant in its simplicity.

pink Younger Girls My Little Pony Long-Sleeved Top



Available at Dunnes Stores, €15


Now this award is not all couture frocks and shiny statuettes (in fact it’s neither of those) so these are the rules:

1. Thank the person who nominated you and link to their blog in your Liebster Award post.
2. Copy and paste the Liebster Award badge into your post.
3. Answer the 10 questions you were given when you were nominated.
4. Come up with 10 questions you would like to ask of your nominees.
5. Nominate 10 newbie bloggers, by commenting on one of their blog posts with a link to your Liebster Award post, and a short message about nominating them.


1. Which cartoon character do you most resemble and why?

Last night my family and I all watched The Incredibles. At a point where the mother in the show was going about her business my husband looks over at me and starts laughing. Apparently her and I are of the same ilk. Now he wasn’t comparing me to Elastigirl all fabulous and flexible but instead to Helen Parr, Elastigirl’s alterego. I am a mammy with all that it entails. The voice of motherhood reverberates in me. No point denying it. The thighs are about right too.




2. What is your least favorite word in the English language and why?

Adamant. This word is my nemesis. I always prided myself on my knowledge and use of words until this tricky little bugger came along. Turns out I had been pronouncing it ama-dant without realising for years. I now have to stop and think before using that word and I usually opt for an alternative just in case.

3. What’s your best advice for new bloggers?

I’m still pretty fresh out of the box myself but I’ll quote that great Greek goddess of victory and excellent trainer maker, Nike, and say “just do it”. It took me a year from first setting up my Wordpress account to actually posting something but I’m glad I made the leap.

4. If you could have any super power, what would it be?

The ability to turn back time. Not to change the course of events but just turn it back an hour or so when for the nights when I’ve stayed up way past my bedtime reading or watching something on Netflix (Making a Murderer I’m looking at you!). Something similar to Hermione’s timeturner in Harry Potter

.Harry Potter - Golden Time Turner Necklace - Hermione Granger Cosplay - TimeTurner Dumbledore Hogwarts School Steampunk Hourglass CostumeFind this one on Etsy.

5. You’re stranded on a desert island with three things you currently own and a famous person. Who and what?

A pen and paper (surely this counts as one)

P20 suncream because my skin would initially burn like a pig on a spit.

Pillow – because I like to be comfy.

I would have Tom Hanks along with me because he seems like a really nice guy and he has obvious experience in this kind of situation.

We could spend our time with him teaching me the song from Big and we could pretend to be Woody and Buzz and generally have the craic together. Plus he’s important enough that people would keep looking for him so I figure we’ll be rescued at some reasonable stage (preferably once I’ve lost a few pounds and my skin has acclimatised to the sunshine and I’m a nice shade of Ursula Andress).
6. Name one achievable goal for 2016 regarding your blog.

To blog more. I only had three posts in 2015 so I’m now 2/3 of the way there with this post.

7. The Kardashians: Your thoughts in twenty words or less.

Shockingly influential. They don’t need any more words. Enough is already written about them.

8. What’s your favorite blogging topic?

To write about – my hilarious offspring. They make me so hugely proud.

To read about – ordinary tales about ordinary folks. That is essentially what blogging is to me. It’s no longer about sharing our stories and experiences with people we have physically met but instead connecting with anyone anywhere with an internet connection. You know the feeling when you find common ground with another person. A parallel is recongnised between you. Be it a mother who also has a boisterous son who is a hideously picky eater or someone who you discover shares your love of Dr. PimplePopper. Those connections used to be a rarity but now you only have to open your smartphone and you can find others just like you within moments.

9. Share a link with us to your favorite post you’ve written.

This is the most recent before the one you’re reading.

Making memories

10. Does your “real life” (family, friends, work) know about your blog?

Some of my real life know about it. It still feels like some sort of secret. My husband knows because I need him to up the parenting ante while I do my tippy tapping on the laptop. My 5 year old son knows that I tell people stories about him and his sisters. I told my parents, brother and sisters. My best bud and accomplice actively encouraged me to start. She has a sort of determination that is boundless. If she’s involved then sh*t is gonna get done. Some really good friends know but I’m not a broadcasting kind of person. I just put the blog out there and am letting it find its own way amongst people that I know. I’m nervous and wary of telling people and I think they are unsure about asking me. I think I want to take the Philip Larkin approach when blogging. Let my words find their own way in the world.


Philip Larkin PoemsBook Depository €12.12

I want to overhear somebody in the queue at the supermarket or at the next table in a restaurant talking about a really great blog post or (sometime in a galaxy far far away) a book they read and be talking about my writing.

I would like to award the Liebster Awards to the following bloggers (I’m cheating a little as I’ve only nominated nine):

Someone’s Mum

Cara writes

The Gorton Theory




The Mommy Vortex

Babies and Balderdash


And here are the questions for my nominees:

  1. What/who gave you the nudge towards starting a blog?
  2. Who is your favourite celebrity to follow on Twitter and why?
  3. What was the last thing you purchased outside of groceries?
  4. How do you get rid of stress?
  5. What is your favourite quote?
  6. What is your earliest memory?
  7. If you could rewind the last 24 hours is there anything that you would change and if so, what/why?
  8. You wake up, the sun is shining, you have no responsibilities for the day – what do you do?
  9. What do you love most about the place where you live?
  10. Do you have a nickname and how did you get it?


Thanks for reading.




Domestic Blisters

Making memories

As first time parents one could be forgiven for thinking that every little wonderful thing that our child does will be indelibly inked upon our brains. We think we will never forget the time that First Born did a,b and c. The truth is you will.

Functioning brain cells

I have probably forgotten more about my three little lovelies than I actually remember about them. It’s not because I’m a bad parent or have exceptionally poor memory skills it’s just that they do so much and there are so many of them. Since my twin girls, Diva and Beans, came along it’s like my brain has the capacity of a low spec laptop and it freezes when it has too many tasks running at the same time. Like within the last half an hour this sequence of events occurred during dinner.

Dotie Boy asked for more toast.

I got up to make him more toast.

I kept checking it to make sure that it was just more than warm bread and just less than actual toast because that’s the way he likes it.

I whipped it out of the toaster and buttered it with speed to ensure that it had all melted because that’s the way he likes it.

I came back to the table and put the toast on Beans’ plate instead of Dotie Boy’s.

He told me. I apologised. Beans would not relinquish the toast. I went to make more.

Beans then gave him the toast with a bite gone out of it and all hell broke loose.

All because of my malfunctioning brain.

Then Tall Man had made dinner so I offered to make his choice of tea or coffee before returning upstairs to finish this piece of writing. He said he would like coffee. I made him tea.

Cannot brain today

I remember having a discussion in my younger years with one of my sisters who looked particularly like me. She was three years and two days older than me (still is) and was trying to convince me that there was some conspiracy afoot regarding the fact that maybe we were twins and she was actually the same age as me. In my frustration and annoyance with her theory I turned to the Oracle of All Knowledge and Expert Jam Sandwich Maker (my mother) and, pointing at my sister asked “What year was she born?” and the answer came “1981”. Correct. Then I asked “and what year was I born?” to which she replied “1983?”

Question mark????

House WTF

She was asking me if she was right!!!! Surely she should have been able to access that mighty fortress in the brain reserved solely for remembering stuff about your kids. It was incorrect anyway. Next thing my father walked in. Redemption was in store and redemption was wearing wellies. “Dad, what year was I born?”.


What the fluff??? thought my young self. Maybe my fake twin was right.

Shining twins

Now looking back and having three little people of my own I now totally realise why they didn’t remember what year I was born. I was the fourth child. Fourth and most fabulous but fourth nonetheless. After number two we all just pretty much melded into one giant never ending noisy sticky child.

Fourth kid

Now I understand my parents asking questions starting with “which one of them was it that used to…? It’s because sometimes in a parent’s brain all the little people who you have spent the majority of your time with and who all look kinda similar can get mixed up.

Now I understand why I was left behind at the school collection. It was because my mother was also collecting three more of her own children and two neighbours. I was a quiet child. The absence of noise from me in the back of the car was not a cause for concern.

So a few years ago while I was going through my Pinterest obsession I came across a really nice and simple idea about a memory jar. It’s not one of those “simple” ones where you look at it and think that would be so easy but end up having to buy a hot glue gun, reams of fancy ribbon, 3/4 yard of polycotton and order the third toenail of a Peruvian llama for express delivery before embarking on your project. It actually is simple.

photo (1)

I would encourage you all to establish your own memory jar. I’ve enjoyed the fruits of the jar for a number of years and last year gave some as presents (you can fancy the gift ones up a bit if you like).

Going to get very technical with the Mary Make and Do stuff here:

Mary Make & Do

You will need:

1 jar (or tub, tissue box, bag, danish butter cookie tin or whatever – some sort of container)

1 pen

some paper



  1. Make the memory
  2. Take pen and paper and write down details of memory.
  3. Date it. Not in a Tinder type way just write down the date.
  4. Fold up paper and place into jar
  5. Repeat as often as you like
  6. Open up on New Year’s Eve and enjoy

If you want to make the fancier gift ones then I recommend popping into Heatons or equivalent for a nice sized Kilner Jar and heading over to Dealz/Tiger Store/€2 shop for a few small notepads, some pens and ribbon. Pop a pen and notepad into the jar along with a rhyme about it’s purpose. Close it up and tie some ribbon around. This was my ditty:

Fill me up with memories from all the year 

Open me up on New Year’s Eve and relive all the cheer.

Wallace and Gromit Cheese

The first year we did this was 2013. From my memory that year was full of all the gushy mushy stuff like

Dotie Boy did something amazing today and he made us all smile and we are all so proud of him and privileged to be able to witness this baby turn into a most wonderful boy.


Time is flying by with my two girls. Tonight Beans rolled over in her cot so we put the cot bumper* up to avoid her banging into the bars. Diva would not go to sleep for us and kept crying. She was turning her head towards Beans’ cot. We realised that she was upset at not being able to see her sister. We took down the bumper and Diva was happy again. The twin bond is just amazing.

*I would appreciate if the amateur health and safety officers didn’t get their knickers in a twist over us using a cot bumper. Unclench folks!

It devolved from there.

This year one of the standout memories was of Dotie Boy in the bath saying “See these?”, pointing at his nipples, “when you press these you can swim faster. Beep!” And then he started splashing around the bath.

Another was a conversation with his father, Tall Man, which went something like this:

Looking at calendar

Dotie Boy: Daddy that’s the day of your birthday.

Tall Man: That’s right. I’ll be 34 then. That’s really old isn’t it?

Dotie Boy: Yeah. Then you’ll be almost dead.

These are the gold that our memory jar is all about. It’s not the big occasions like christenings or parties which you are probably going to remember pretty well anyway and someone has photos of to help your brain to recall. It’s about all the wonderful stuff that happens when you’re not expecting it. It’s the pound shop sparkler in the middle of the blackout. It’s the little pieces of life that make it worthwhile. These are the moments that you store in your Bank of Emotional Wellbeing for the days that aren’t so great. So it’s nice to relive the happy times, replenish the deposits in the account and end the year on a positive note of the good times that were had.

If you’re being extra diligent and organised you can even go a little further and save the memories long term. When we’re done with each year’s offerings we put them in an envelope and seal it. The envelopes are to be opened again ten years later. Memory Envelopes

I’m quite looking forward to seeing what a 15 year old Dotie Boy makes of his go faster nipples!


Anxious Dragon Linky

Linking up #abitofeverything




Nativity play


Dotie Boy started primary school in September this year. It’s my alma mater and has the rare advantage of being solely an infant school. It caters for Junior Infants and Senior Infants only. The school, its teachers and administrators have an enthusiasm and joie de vivre that can sometimes be lacking in schools that have to deal with people ranging in age (and attitude) from 4 to 13. It’s a special place that fosters the more infant focussed approach to everything across the board. It can do all the things that would elicit eye rolls from a cool ten year old but are marvellous to the eyes of a five year old. There has been a Harvest Assembly, Halloween Singalong, Christmas Assembly and Christmas Fair so far. They actively pursue parental inclusion. I’ve dipped my toes into the pool of parent participation but I’m not a confident swimmer as of yet.

There was an open night last January that myself and Tall Man attended. Everything was brand new to him and in some ways it was new to me too. Now I haven’t exactly grown to be a giant in the intervening years (I’m 5 ft 1.6 inches according to the machine in Boots) but everything certainly seemed smaller. Obviously it’s all just a matter of perspective and I am the one who has become bigger.

The feelings that I experienced walking back through the doors and while wandering around the halls and classrooms were a beautiful reflection of my time there. I felt happy and I felt safe. It was pretty amazing to me to see how my experiences as a child still had such a profound resonance all these years later. I can only hope that Dotie Boy has the same positive emotional attachment to his time there.

Anyway, I digress.

Dotie Boy arrived home recently and mentioned his Christmas play. I cannot begin to explain the excitement that rose up through my bones. Naturally there’s the proud mammy looking forward to seeing her first born in his first Nativity play. It’s almost a rite of passage. My excitement, however, was also very much due to the opportunity that the play would afford me, personally, outside of my role as proud mammy keep on burning.

Proud Mary gif.gif
I would get to make him a COSTUME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I know there are plenty out there who would roll their eyes and make a long woe is me how many more years of this malarkey do I have to put up with sigh. But that is not me. I gleefully relish it. I have spent plenty of happy hours rifling through wardrobes and cupboards over the years rooting out different articles of clothing that I can turn into something spectacular. I have multiple Pinterest boards devoted to costumes.

My family have kindly obliged over the years by indulging my obsession with costume making. They have hosted various themed parties such as cowboys and Indians, hippy party, American legends, superheroes, cartoon characters. It started when it was only me and Tall Man but it’s risen to new heights with the addition of our three kiddos who present even more sweet possibilities when it comes to costume making.

I played it cool for a few days with Dotie Boy until he came home and started talking about the play again. I knew if I asked too many questions initially then he would shut me down. He started off chatting about it and I (possibly but more possibly not) nonchalantly asked “do you know who you are in the play?”. If he was angel I could make stellar wings, if he was a sheep I would cut up that 80s sheepskin rug that nearly every house had, if he was a shepherd he would be allowed to have the fanciest tea towel from the cupboard.

“I’m a wise man”, he said.

Oh sweet mother of mercy. It was the motherload. A wise man meant that I could glitz and glamour the heck out of his costume in ways that he would admonish me for in years to come. I was already mentally rooting through Tall Man’s shirt collection and thinking about whether we should go with a tin foil crown or a fez with sparkly bits from one of my Penneys necklaces. This was my moment. Along with Dotie Boy there was going to be a piece of my blood, sweat and tears up on that stage with him.

“That’s lovely”, I said. “Will I make you a costume so?”

“No. Teacher has them in school already.”


Image result for wtf meme

So ANYHOW I had to make do with baking a few treats for the Christmas Fair last week to take the edge off. Here they are.

photo 4


Yeah yeah they look amazing and no doubt they tasted lovely but they are no Wise Man costume. Oh the wasted possibilities.



And then my mother came out of my mouth

When it comes to answering the many, many questions my children ask during the day I try to be as honest and straight as I possibly can be despite how awkward or delicate the subject may be.

For instance, when we passed a graveyard and my eldest, Dotie Boy, aged 5, asked “what’s that?”. I dutifully explained that’s where we put the bodies of people after they die. Long list of insightful, probing questions from him and direct but child friendly responses from me followed until he was satisfied that he had gained sufficient knowledge on the matter. There are instances, however, when time is short and patience is shorter. It’s in that moment that you realise how your own mother must have felt.  You’ve been asked a question and another and another. You reach the point where you have exhausted all explanation. You’ve been cornered and completely outwitted by the innocent curiosity of your own child. Their inquisitiveness has outstretched your mental capacity.  Out of your mouth come the same words which have echoed throughout motherhood
because I said so that's why...oh, my goodness. How many times did I hear that one!:

You have just swindled your child out of an answer. Well done Mammy. I hope you’re proud of yourself. The words “because I said so” are a shameful yet glorious escape route. As a mother I take solace in the fact that those words were probably once spoken to me and have not left any lasting issues. I feel, doctor, that my fear of asking questions stems from the Christmas morning when I asked my mam why I couldn’t eat the selection box Santa left for me for breakfast. He had obviously meant for me to eat it. Why would he give me chocolate that I wasn’t allowed to eat? Why doctor? Why? And do you know what she said? She said “because I said so”. She shut me down, doctor. I’ve never been able to ask a question or smell chocolate without feeling nauseated since. 

There will come a time, however, when your trusted escape route will be grievously unavailable. You’ll be the lady gleefully careening down the tube slide at the soft play centre, smugly shouting “because I said so” only to find that some kid has blocked it up with toys and you can’t get out. Instead you have to crawl back up the tunnel that was built for people under four feet and is designed to ensure that you slide one direction only. There is no dignity to be salvaged here.

Fat hamster stuck on his slide.:

In our house we have a chart of the daily tasks that we would like Dotie Boy to complete. For each task he gets a smiley face. Five smiley faces or more at the end of the day equals a small treat. Thirty five or more at the end of the week equals pocket money. The first task on the list is making his bed. It’s not a huge job and we’re pretty easy going with the way in which his bed ends up. It’s more about trying to do it rather than the precision of his hospital corners. As this task is to be completed at the start of the day when the imprint of his pillow creases are still on his face it can lead to moments like this:

“Have you made your bed pet?” tone is light

“No” wipes toothpaste from his face

“You know that means you won’t get a smiley face” tone still light, attempt to smile

But, but, but why-eeee do I have to make my bed?” he’s seen through my artificial tone, confrontation is imminent

To get a smiley face” desperate hope that this brief answer should be sufficient, trying to ignore confrontational stance and flailing arms of Dotie Boy

“But why-eeeeeeee?” intensification of arm flailing

“To make your room nice and neat for when you come back to it later” not sure this actually matters to a five year old

But why-eeeeeeeeeee?”  this evidently does not matter to a five year old. He holds eye contact.

This is the volatile moment when the two opposing forces of “but why-eeee” and “because I said so” crash into each other.

Hesitation and then deployment “Because I said so!” hold breathe in anticipation

“But why-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” thinks about stamping his foot but he stops short

Stand or retreat Mammy. What’s it gonna be?

“Because I said so” retreats from battle with “But why-eeee”. She raises a white flag of “Oh grand so, forget it. Just go downstairs. And don’t push your sisters!”

You realise that for all they lack in height and years they more than make up for in argument and perspective. I mean, I don’t think the world will stop turning if a bed is left unmade.

Maybe I won’t make my bed either tomorrow.

This is why we should always make our beds in the morning and I never knew why till now. This unmade bed makes me want to crawl into it and I am unsure I wouldn't crawl in even if I was visiting a friend/family/pretty much anyone. Lol!! Never dismiss a nap.:



The beginning

December 31st 2004

The day I met the tall man who gets me things from the shelves I cannot reach, the man who knows my tickly spot, the man who hugs me when I cry while re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, the man who looks after all things gadgety and electronic in my home.

The IT Crowd Cross Stitch Chart Pattern with Roy and Moss.:

February 28th 2009

The day I threw on some makeup, a pretty dress, a pair of purple shoes and said “I do” to the tall man.


9th October 2010

The day the tall man’s aftershave made me nauseous and nearly pass out while my first born was arriving into the world.

It's a boy chalkboard sign, gender reveal chalkboard, chalkboard photo prop by SweetfaceCelebration on Etsy.:

15th August 2012

The day I lay on a bed squinting at a little screen with my jelly covered belly when the tall man uttered words that will forever lay engraved on my brain “It’s two!”

The day that our plans of turning our family of three into a family of four were deliciously usurped by fate and fertility and it turned out that three plus one more actually equalled five.

Smiling Door Mice Caters

There are two things in life for which we are never truly prepared: twins” – Josh Billings