Monsters In-Law

Yep, this post is about those frightful monsters in-law. It has been nagging at me for a while whether to write this post because I don’t want to offend anyone of my in-law variety, however after months of deliberation I have decided,  STUFF IT… WHY NOT???

After 4 fallings out, countless snide comments, sarcasm, bitchiness and he-said, she-said’s, I have finally decided that I am bowing out of my partners family, for good. So let the rant begin!! (I understand if rants aren’t your thing and you have no interest in reading on, and no, we are not married but I will call them in-laws anyway.)

Now I consider myself pretty average on the socioeconomic scale and I’m comfortable here, we both work hard running two businesses and have two young kids. We sound normal right? WRONG!

We decided to move across the country to escape the monsters in-law, (that’s 4000 km’s across Australia), and you’ll never guess what… THEY FOLLOWED US, and decided to buy up 1 km round the corner. Yep, that’s a massive 4 million kangaroo hops, or 4 hours on a plane, or 10 days in the car……   to a leisurely stroll around the corner. WTF!!!!!

Why? I wonder to this day, especially since all they did was bitch about Western Australia when they visited. Baffled? So am I.

Now I know Perth is gorgeous, and clean, and warm (or hot, however you look at it), and living standards are great, so I thought, okay I am willing to share this great city with you, just treat it nice and don’t live in my pocket. Well they have been nice to Perth and some have not lived in my pocket. However, 6 months later, the honeymoon period is clearly over. And once again, we all clearly hate each other. I won’t bore you with the details unless you want me to in another post but lets just say, perhaps its time to hop on that jet and move to the UK. I hear they don’t like the cold weather 🙂






Renovations – My House Has No Rules!

Well our laundry has been bare for over three months. Concrete, concrete and more concrete, oh and bare walls and piles of rubble.


The floor tiles and laundry tub were removed in an energy filled weekend, and since left… to haunt me day and day. And I mean haunt, because despite the pictures you see here on my blog, I happen to be quite a clean person. Yes, seriously.

And despite what I might say about my Aussie bloke he also is one of the cleanest (anally so), people I’ve ever met. Odd, I know. If there’s a splash of oil on the cooker, he’ll see it, if there’s a spec of dust on the cabinet, he’ll see it. A pile of washing days old waiting to be folded, blind… Confused, yes, as am I.

Anyway, the laundry.

Three months later I have forced the subject on a Saturday morning, having been washing clothes by hand for a week! (since the washing machine had to be removed to level the floor). Two young kids makes washing hands by clothes an long, arduous task.

New Tiles in Laundry

5 overflowing swear jars later, and house that’s been completely trashed by the kids that have turned feral we have all whole tiles laid. Our son who is now 3 days toilet trained, decided to do what he’s been trained to do for the last 6 months and use the toilet. Another full swear jar later, I felt very sorry for our son who had done what had been drummed into him. (Please note: No 3 years old’s were harmed in during renovations.)

We have a long way to go before the laundry is finished. Will keep you updated on the progress!




Yes… its a bull with a built in esky, and bottle opener for an arse!

Made from recycled metal and in my blokes footy team colours its perfect for the summer.

Bull Esky

Bull Esky made from recycled metal

Love how it is so unique. You can see all the different pieces of metal, very creative.

Also loved how it came wrapped!

Bull Esky

Oh My!

not so nice mummy blog

Today I have officially been sent to the brink of insanity by my son. I now consider myself well and truly a member of the Lunatic Mothers Screaming at Their Kids Club.  I only thank goodness that all surrounding neighbours are elderly and half are slightly deaf.

I don’t blog regularly about my kids, my bloke being the subject of most posts, however today’s events require a little venting for mental health purposes. For the record my aussie bloke has been wonderful and completely supportive… via text message, (this is the only conversation I can manage between tantrums and nappies, and all he can manage between jobs).

Today began as usual, crawling out of bed with a headache due to broken sleep. It dawns on me that playgroup is today.  I take a moment to think, there is a lot of work about to go into getting myself and two kids to playgroup, should I bother? This is where I made my mistake… Why not, it’ll be a nice morning out.

1 hour later with baby screaming, and shoes on the wrong feet of two year old we are getting packed into the car. I take a moment to think, Its not to late to turn around.

Nah, I decide, we’ll go to playgroup. Besides, we’re ready now. 

20 minutes later, 2 year old has timed his morning poo perfectly, and is stinking out the room while refusing to have his nappy changed. I take a moment to think. How the hell do you get willful toddler to change his nappy without a screaming match.

Ha! Stupid question, you can’t.

Moments later we are leaving playgroup, (perhaps removing him from playgroup will teach him a lesson). It takes 10 minutes to get 2 year old into carseat, ( its one of those days when I really wanted to break the law, bung him in the back and start to drive).

I take a moment to think, when I get home, IF we get home, we are never leaving the house again!

We got home.

While both kids are screaming on the floor I make myself a cup of tea and stare out the kitchen window. I consider all forms of legal punishments, (and some illegal). I take a moment to think. I remind myself why I had kids, this took a while. Once I remembered I held that thought and went back into battle.

a little bit of aussie bloke hard yakka

This is what most aussie blokes do each day. Croc wrangling just comes naturally.


While most aussie blokes are pretty laid back, when it comes to crunch they are great work horses.

I don’t mean tasks they consider part of the female domain (they are quite traditional in this sense) the job has to be really blokey, like cutting up firewood wood with a massive chainsaw, or cleaning something with a powerful engine, or building something really huge. Put simply, when it comes to the real hard yakka, they put in the hours of labour to get the job done.

All they need at the end of the job is a cold beer and maybe a tasty barbeque, which they’ll happily cook of course. Don’t expect them to clean up afterwards though. Thats not blokey enough.

Strangely I’ve been blessed with a form of aussie bloke who’ll roll out the occasional cleaning spree. I sit with the kids and he whirls around the house getting chores done in an hour, that I’ve struggled to complete all week. Don’t be fooled however, this is generally before guests arrive on the weekend, and he won’t touch a single piece of clothing to be washed or folded. During his cleaning sprees piles of crap end up stuffed in cupboards and bedrooms. But hey, I’m not complaining. Well, not in this post anyway.

I’m gonna start sharing more about being the Friggin Missus on my Facebook Page. Don’t be shy, the page has got the record for the least likes ever! Woohoo… thanks Facebook.