Well, Hark the Herald Angels! What a Week...

This week has been one of many firsts for our little family. From shopping for E's first Christmas Tree, to swims at South Bank and playing in the sprinkler, to crawling from one end of the house to the other (yes, all of us at some stage), this week has been one of great significance in our young family's life.

It started off like many others - very early and filled with endless cups of coffee from the cafe recently opened in our neighbourhood.

We decided to use this time before Christmas to do all the chores I didn't manage to get done while Teach was at work (read: forgot because lazybones here watched to many re-runs of Grey's Anatomy).

First stop: Christmas Tree! I really wanted to get into the spirit of our family Christmas, which to me means, a fabulous tree (if budget allows for it) and decorations to deck the halls.

Teach always had a real tree growing up and wanted to continue the same tradition for E, so we made our way to Hawkins to select one of their finest. Ok, maybe it wasn't their finest (how do you say 'Ka-Ching' in Tree?) but it's fine enough for our place. 

It's not the size but what you do with it that matters.

The decorations are sadly lacking, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?

You might have noticed summer really stepped up to the plate after several days of faux winter weather this week. To celebrate (and escape our hot box) we packed the beach bag and took E to South Bank for a splash in Streets Beach. It's one of my favourite spots in Brisbane because it's close to the city, shops, cafes, galleries and other attractions, but most importantly, it's free.

E had a ball! It was one big bath tub to him. Splashing, kicking and playing. He would've stayed there for hours if the rain clouds didn't loom large and threaten to destroy our lovely afternoon.

Loving the water at Streets Beach

Inspired by his obvious love of the water, we decided to set up a sprinkler in the back garden and play under the hose like we did as kids. E was a bit shocked at this cold wet stuff splashing him in the face at first, but loved it eventually. The blow-up ball Teach was given as a Secret Santa gift came in very handy for our "pool party."

A boy always needs a ball.

Then yesterday, our little man, who has been trying to crawl for several weeks finally took off on all fours. Slowly but surely, he let one knee follow the other and crawled from Teach to me along the hallway (maybe 2m long) without looking back. It was the proudest moment of our lives!

Not wanting to finish there, a few hours later with a belly full of Mum's brilliant super-charged Boob Juice, he attempted the stairs. With Teach behind him, he went from one step to the next and climbed all the way to the top. We cheered and cheered. Once at the top, his little eyes smiled at me as if to say, 'Ta Dah! Look at me Mum,'. We couldn't stop laughing and applauding his little adventure. That reminds me, I really must buy child-proof gates for the stairs.


It's moments like these when you realise that for all the late nights, crying tantrums and pooy bums (mine and E's), you wouldn't change being a parent for anything in the world.


Merry Christmas to all.
x Sian

Blonde Ambitions

I'd prefer not to compare myself to Li-Lo, but in this instance, I have to.

I must apologise for not writing this week. I was all prepared to submit witty stories each day thanks to Teach being on leave and sharing the caring load, but on Tuesday my world turned upside down. I experienced a personal tradegy like no other emotional turmoil I've ever been through.

Ok, so it wasn't really a personal tradegy and I shouldn't compare this incident to one, but it certainly feels like it. Hear me out.

My hair - which has taken me a little more than 3 years to get where I wanted it - was died blonde. I'm not referring to a light blonde rinse that freshened up my old colour. I'm talking trashy, white/yellow blonde from root to tip. Think Lindsay-Lohan-Skank-Blonde and you're .01% close to I look right now!

I don't know what came over me. Getting my hair done once every 3 to 4 months is a highlight of my year (pun intended). Several hours to myself to have someone fuss over me with free lattes and the latest selection of womens magazine in easy reach while they work their magic and make me somewhat human - who wouldn't love that?

But for some, gold-only-knows reason, I didn't just get 'the usual' this time around. Instead, I told my delightful Hairdresser Kim* to give me an all over blonde colour like Reese Witherspoon or Gwyneth Paltrow.

I wanted a little more pizzazz for Summer and thought an overall colour could be just what I needed. I was so excited to swan home to my two favourite men, in manner of Grace Kelly, and have them 'Wowed' off their feet.

Well, off their feet they were...in laughter at my ridiculous yellow hair that makes me look like I'd got my finger stuck in a light socket and my hair changed in shock.

Even as I write this I am mortified by the memory of the whole experience, because what I haven't admitted to you, is that all of this is my fault. I wish I could pass the buck and rant and rave about my hairdresser not listening to me. But no. I went back to have it fixed....and made it worse!

Here is the whole truthful story...so help me God.

I sat down with Kim and asked for an all over colour. This part you know. However instead of just getting a full head of foils (like I should've) I said, 'What if we just went blonde all over? Would that be OK?' Kim was quick to tell me it would look great because of my skin tone. 'I wouldn't tell you to do it if I didn't think it would look bad,' she comforted. You'd think the warning bells would've gone off then, but alas, I let her go.

Some time later, Kim washed my hair and sat me back down in the chair in front of the mirror. I swear my roots could have played the Yellow Brick Road in Wizard of Oz. I freaked out and the look on my face said it all. Kim was on to me immediately.

'Why don't we put a polish over it and calm it down a little, so it's not soooo blonde?' she suggested. 'Ok, that would be great.'

As the polish was applied I physically felt my stomach retract from my throat to its intended position. I was calming down and felt confident Kim knew what she was doing.

My hair ended up being a slightly dirty colour with blonde roots. Think dirty dish water with the lemon soap suds left. Overall it was a nothing colour. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. Definitley not a colour I wanted for Summer, but I went home and reviewed the damage in the mirror - like every woman does after a visit to the hairdresser.

That gut wrenching feeling of disbelief and anxiety returned.  I had to do something to remedy this distaster. I felt sick. The next day I rang Kim and explained my disappointment. Bless her, she got me back in straight away to fix the problem.

I said, "It's just not what I had in mind. I'm happy with blonde hair, but I feel like this is closer to light brown. Maybe we could just bring it up a little?'

Kim suggested putting half a head of foils all over my head with the blonde colour she normally uses on my hair. 'I wont add any lowlights because it's already in there. I'll just add in the blondest one of your two blondes.'

'Sure' I replied. Then there was a little knock on the door in my mind. Little Sian opened the door and whispered in my ear, 'Won't that be too blonde? Don't you just want a few little highlights scattered across the front half?'

"It'll be fine. She knows what she's doing,' I replied, pushing her back out the door and slamming it behind her.

A little over two hours later, as Kim was blasting my hair dry, I could feel the tears starting to fill my eyes. 'Do not cry. Just get home,' I consoled myself.

I knew instantly I'd done the wrong thing and should not have returned to the hair dresser emotional, anxious and upset. Why didn't I listen to Teach and wait a week or two until I got use to the new colour and then decide if I wanted to have it changed back? I might have been in a better position to explain what I needed or was looking for instead of just assuming Kim and Little Sian were communicating on the same wave length.

But no! I'm now lost. Lost in a haze of confusion, emotional hell and self-loathing. Oh, and let's not forget bright YELLOW hair! Aaaaargh!!!

Instead of telling tales about how much fun Teach, E and I had shopping for our first family Christmas Tree on Monday, I've spent the last two days trying to find a way to reverse time and get my old hair back, avoiding mirrors and swearing at myself.

Photos around the house are not helping me come to terms with my new hair either. All I'm doing is mourning the loss of something so young and beautiful that ended before it's time.'Why God, WHY?'

I've since put a call out on Facebook to ask if anyone can recommend a colourist to fix my hair, plus a friend has dropped over her bottle of Silver Saver (aka purple shampoo) to help me in the interim, but it's not immediate enough. You'd think I'd learn my lesson and not rush into any more decisions or colours, but I can't help it. I must fix it now! 


Can anyone help me?

* Name changed