Owww
I used to use the universally accepted pain scale of "1 to stepping on a Lego with bare feet". I move that the scale be changed to "1 to being poked hard in the eye with a tooth-paste covered toddler toothbrush".
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we're not kids anymore.

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Owww
I used to use the universally accepted pain scale of "1 to stepping on a Lego with bare feet". I move that the scale be changed to "1 to being poked hard in the eye with a tooth-paste covered toddler toothbrush".

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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If you leave me, I will fiiiiind you
Yesterday Amy so badly wanted her babysitter to stay that she hid her shoes so she couldn't leave. She's going to be a super fun girlfriend to break up with one day
Tilly reading about what a dreadful sleeper she is in the latest edition of Little Treasures magazine on sale now x
Negotiations
Today the four year old is on treat lock-down as a punishment for being rude. After much protesting, flailing about and gnashing of teeth, I thought she'd finally come to accept her fate. Then: Amy: "Mummy, remember when I was running with a sharp decoration because I was so excited, and I fell over and it made a little hole in my hand and I cried and cried? And you said you felt so sad for me?" Me: "Um, are you talking about last Christmas? I think I remember…but that was seven months ago…" Amy: "Yes, it was Christmas. I still feel really sad about that. But a treat would probably make me feel a lot better about it". ‪#‎NiceTry‬ ‪#‎EnjoyYourCarrotSticks‬
It's like grocery shopping with a small, noisy goat. On the upside, "holding" the shopping list keeps her passably quiet. On the downside, she generally chews/rips it and won't give it back to me to check what's written on it, so I always forget a bunch of stuff. With child #1, I would have worried that fellow shoppers were judging me for letting my child possibly ingest paper; but she's the second child, so I enjoy the quiet and count it as her afternoon tea.

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This morning, a banana succumbed to the firm grip of Tilly's chubby fist, and fell out of its skin. Broken Food is completely unacceptable. She gave it a chance to "fix" itself while tearfully eating a bowl of rice bubbles. The banana did not come to the party, choosing to remain broken. A replacement banana was offered and refused. A tantrum of epic proportions followed, and couldn't even be placated by big sisterly comfort (she's been there, and knows the heartache that only Broken Food can cause). It is officially the end of days. #BrokenFood #TillyRage #Bananagate #BananasSuck #averageparentproblems
The Frozen birthday party was a month ago, but we are still not permitted to dispose of the (now very sad-looking) balloons. #LetItGo
Toddler, toddler on the floor
Toddler toddler on the floor, who is the most stubborn of them all?
Why, it is I, fair Mummy. You thought I'd be the nice one, all chubby, cute and sweet...now I'm losing my shit 'cos you won't let me play with the toilet seat.
The baby has refused her nap five days out of seven. I'm not ready for her to be up all day. When will I get housework done? And by "when will I get housework done", I mean "when will I get to faff around on Facebook?"
Amy: "Is Daddy in the shower yet?" Me: "Ummm, I'm not sure. I think so." Amy: *sly smile* "Shall we turn the kitchen tap on really hard and find out?"

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There is no one more righteous than the sibling not in a time out.
"Tilly, you're in a time out, and I'm not. Do you see ME hitting Mummy in the face? No. That's because I'm a good girl, and you're reeeeeally naughty. I would never do that. But you did that, and now you have to stay here until the timer goes off" etc etc etc. Pretty big talk from the kid who was thrashing about in a mountain of dress ups not ten minutes earlier, while screeching I was the worst mummy EVER for asking her to tidy up.
Toddler Rage. #CarryMe #PickMeUpSoICanWipeSheepPooFromMyGumbootsOntoYourOnlyTrousers
Typo. #sorrynotsorry
Good Intentions For Sale
When I was pregnant with Tilly, I excitedly called Jeremy to tell him I’d won a pack of really good reusable nappies. He did not share my excitement, and told me to call him back when I’d won something cool, like a car. I scoffed at his unsupportive nature, and hopped up on a high horse that saw me saving the planet.
Tilly is now 18 months old, and yesterday I put the following ad up on TradeMe (NZ’s version of e-bay, for you non-Kiwis):
For sale: Bambino MioSolo all-in-one 6 pack reusable nappies.
I wanted to be the mother who used reusable nappies, I really did. So I researched all the options, and discovered the Bambino MioSolo nappies are the bee's knees when it comes to reusables.
If I'd been a better person, these nappies would be swishing about in my washing machine right now, and our bank account would probably be quite a bit healthier. Instead, they've languished, unopened and unloved, in the drawer I put them in as a temporary measure when I got them. "I'll use them when she's out of the tiny newborn disposables", I told myself. Lies.
My baby is rapidly approaching the toilet training stage of proceedings, so it's probably best I sell my pack, and come to terms with the fact that I'm just not as good of a person as I'd like to be (but I've been signing environmental petitions and recycling all my wine bottles, so I'm not a total loss).
 [product information from the official website followed, which I won’t bore you with, unless you’re in the market for reusable nappies, in which case I’ll send you the link!]
 Writing that ad got me thinking...I had so many good intentions before I had babies, and I’ve rarely followed through. For example:
I’d lovingly home-bake all their snacks. They’re currently both munching on a packet of Fruit Shreds (which claim to contain Actual Vegetables, so that’s ok, right?)
They’d hardly ever watch TV. Sesame Street is now a regular feature (but it’s educational!)
I’d encourage gender-neutral play. Amy thinks she is the actual Queen Elsa, and has at least four costume changes daily from a gigantic bucket of frothy princess dress ups.
I would reward good behaviour, bribes wouldn’t come into play, and I’d never shout unless it was a matter of life or death. HahahahahahahahahahahahaHAHA. Seriously, HAHAHA.
I’d cherish each and every moment with my children, and would never wish time away. Sometimes I see that the oven clock is at 4.59pm, and I stand, immobilised, counting the seconds until it clicks over to 5.00pm and I can pour a wine.
I could go on, but I feel I’ve highlighted enough of my shortcomings. Also, there’s a party at my daughter’s kindy this evening and I have to get cracking on preparing a plate for the shared dinner. The Mother I Thought I’d Be would probably be cooking something delicious, nutritious and difficult. The Mother I Am is about to stuff ham and cheese into some store-bought white rolls.
Calling them "Sven's Carrots" did nothing to entice tiny partygoers to eat the only healthy thing on the table. It's ok, the vegetable offering was more about me appearing socially responsible to the parents than it was about the kids, anyway.

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Me: "Smile!" Amy: "NO! They're not dancing and singing 'I like to move it move it' like they do on Madagascar".
The latest Little Treasures magazine is out... and you can read about the highs and lows of my first child-free trip (mostly highs. I want to do it agaaaaaaiiinnnnn!)