How NOT to Blog

As I have said before this blog is differentiated by what it is NOT rather than what it is. Here is a list of things I will NOT write about in any great depth (Not that I write about anything in any great depth).

1)  F%*king Thermomix

Yawn. I fail to see how any kitchen appliance no matter how marvelous can generate so much excitement. I might be vaguely interested in a piece of kitchenware if it allowed me to toss in a handful of sunshine and lollipops, press a button and extract a fresh Michael Fassbender. Sadly to my (admittedly limited) knowledge, Thermomix as awesome as it is can’t do that yet. (Yes Melbourne Mum, (http://melbournemum.com/) I can read your mind – you’d whip up a tasty Eggs Benedict Crumpetbatch if such a device existed. Methinks a future post on Thermomix crumpets awaits. I will call it Hawtomix).

2) My Exercise Regime

This is a moot point because it currently does not exist. Nevertheless I may get back to the gym and if/when it happens do you really want to hear about how many ab crunches I did on the fit ball? On the other hand I’m happy to tell you about the entertaining sights I encounter there. I could also give you step by step instructions on how to cop a perve whilst working out but common decency forbids it.

You'd never suspect it but this lady is coping a sneaky perve.

You’d never suspect it but this lady is copping a sneaky perve.

3) Personal Growth

I have experienced considerable personal growth over the last few months. Its just a shame that’s its concentrated on the upper thighs – see point number 2.

4) How To Dress Like Nina Proudman

I have nothing against the way Nina Proudman dresses. On the contrary I think she looks fabulous but I’m not onboard with the interweb’s current preoccupation with getting the Nina look the morning after Offspring airs.  If however you need advice on how to look like a balmy old bat this blog is for YOU.

Take that Nina Proudman! $10 Panda Slippers from K-mart.

Take that Nina Proudman!
$10 Panda Slippers from K-mart.

5) Gardening

If I had a Lady Chatterly’s Lover type tale to tell I might blog about the gardening. How I would wax lyrical about dirty hoes and the like (HONK). Alas there are no (ahem) rakes in my life to speak of.

I have raved ad nausea about Dadabs stellar career as a software developer and all round whiz kid. Did you know he is also an accomplished hacker? He successfully hacked into our hedge over the weekend. That’s the extent of the gardening action at Chez Abs.

This is NOT a gardening blog!

This is NOT a gardening blog!

6) Creative Table Settings

If a picture tells 1,000 words – here’s a 2,000 word dissertation on the subject of creative table settings.

Where's The Awesome Fun?

Where’s The Awesome Fun?

sweet brown


7) Knitting

When I talk about big needles playing with wool is not what I have in mind. HONK!

Oh my! They're huge!

Oh my! They’re huge!

8) Crafting In General

When you have primary school aged children crafting is a necessary evil. As you are probably all too well aware Book Week and the obligatory  Book Character Parade is upon us. This means that mothers ( I would say parents but lets face it – its usually the Mums who get saddled with this) everywhere have to flex a bit of creative muscle and come up with a costume. This year my P1 is not content to go with a traditional fairy tale heroine. No Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland or even Tinkerbell for her – all options that would have allowed me to purchase a bog standard outfit from K-mart. No my P1 wants to go as one of the very hip and modern Rainbow Fairies.

This one to be precise.

Glitter fairy

Oh my – this character would be in high demand on Sydney’s Mardi Gras night. I think you’ll all agree that I “nailed it.”


This is NOT a crafting blog!

This is NOT a crafting blog!


After excluding the items on the above list I have little recourse but to blog about the pop culture, my husband  very, very occasionally the political situation and more occasionally still – science.

What topics are forbidden in your little corner of the interwebs?



NB: I have leaned heavily on the Hugzilla blog regarding points #1 and #4. This makes me a leaner, not a lifter and hence a scourge upon our nation according to Joe Hockey.



A Recipe For Chaos

This blog tends to avoid culinary related matters unless we are talking about tasty crumpet. There are a plethora of bloggers out there with expensive cameras and a sprinkle of talent who can do the food porn thing way better than I could ever hope to. Nevertheless Mumabulous does like to spice things up. So today I am going to share with you an example of modern Australian cooking straight from Hells Kitchen, or as some people prefer to call it – Canberra.

Modern Australian cuisine

Modern Australian cuisine


  • One fractured global economy
  • One unsustainable fiscal structure
  • One biased and polarized media
  • An utterly dysfunctional ALP
  • A generous splash of factional infighting
  • Half a cup of high level corruption
  • A dash of union toadying
  • One troupe of ideological zealots with a penchant for marginalizing the only voices of rationality within (alternatively known as The Coalition)
  • A teaspoon of climate change denial
  • A heaped cup of business lobbying
  • An assortment of self interested crazies (alternatively known as the Palmer United Party, Motor Enthusiasts Party or RevHead Party)
  • A tablespoon of naive dewy eyed idealists (The Greens)
  • One very pissed off Australian public
That aint humble pie

That aint humble pie

Chefs Note:  Under no circumstances should compassion for marginalized groups such as the elderly, the unemployed, the working poor, the sick, the disabled or refugees be added to the mix.


  • Puree your leader as frequently as possible
  • Shred your (poorly explained ) policy at the slightest sign of public disapproval
  • Cook up the lamest election campaign in the history of democracy
  • Blend catchy but ultimately meaningless slogans with frequent appearances in Speedos
  • Mix a faux debt crisis with a scare campaign about the carbon tax
  • Mince public health and education
  • Knead the less well off into submission
  • Roll out a set of unpalatable policies
  • Chefs Note: Adding credible opposition policies at this point will cause the mix to spoil
  • Place the minor parties in a senate shaped saucepan and stir over heat
  • Continue until the whole thing boils over
  • Dissolve both houses.
  • Start again.

What a dog’s breakfast!  No wonder the Australian public has lost its collective taste for politics.

A dog's breakfast.

A dog’s breakfast.



Australia gets the raw prawn

Australia gets the raw prawn

















On a daily basis I will encounter at least half a dozen things that strike me as ridiculous. I’m not talking ridiculous in an awesome way like Weird Al Yankovic – an individual who can spin silliness into gold. I’m talking about palm on forehead, there’s no hope for the human race type ridiculousness.

Musical alchemist -turns shite into gold.

Musical alchemist -turns shite into gold.

Perhaps its yet another sign that I am morphing into my parents as I age.  Alternatively just maybe stupidity abounds and I am just noticing the tip of the proverbial ice berg. As Einstein himself said.


The butt of many jokes

Mumabulous grapples with the BIG issues and right now I can’t find an issue bigger than this

Nicki Minaj's enhanced butt.

Nicki Minaj’s enhanced butt.

Now here’s an album cover I (and the rest of the world) wasn’t ready for. My girls struck more elegant poses whilst they were potty training. Meanwhile that pink G-string will never be extracted. Scientific wisdom has it that not even light can escape from a black hole. Better not get too close!

Social media mafia

Imagine this scenario. You are a young, upcoming mafioso in Sicily. Your extortion racket is cruising along nicely. You need respect. Its important to cultivate a carefully crafted image. Naturally you take to social media where you post painstakingly posed photos of yourself enjoying the fruits of your labour at all the right restaurants, clubs and beaches. Its mandatory that you boast about your criminality. I mean if you rip off  hard working small businesses but dont post about it on Facebook did it really happen?

Talk about FB mafia!

Talk about FB mafia!

The cops are notoriously behind the curve when it comes to technology. However surprisingly they do have a basic grasp of Facebook and Twitter. Ergo the duckfaced Tony Soprano wanna-be pictured is now in prison and his tale of woe is all over the international media.


The link above alone attracted 655 comments questioning this criminal mastermind’s masculinity. I particularly enjoyed this quip:

They started at the Bottom and worked their way up.

I’m sure its not the look the guy was hoping to project.

Where to put it

Babies notoriously don’t come with a set of instructions but luckily public conveniences do.

Thanks for clearing that up.

Thanks for clearing that up.

I dont want to imagine the scenario that made this sign necessary but apparently some people cant work out that loo paper goes in the loo.

Head in the clouds

I am not against public art per-se but Clover Moore’s most recent proposal strikes me as a bit excessive. “The Cloud Arch” will soar 75m above George Street and cost around $9m. To me looks like Christina Hendricks (of Mad Men fame) silhouetted against the city skyline – a view which most male Sydneysiders would doubtless appreciate.

Cloud Arch

Cloud Arch

See the resemblance?

See the resemblance?

Nevertheless in these austere times I can think of about 9m better things to spend $9m on. In fact I’d like to suggest a cheaper alternative. I’m envisaging an arch over George Street in the shape of one of Clover Moore’s signature studded chokers. Sydney would  have an arch (which it apparently needs) and Clover’s style would be immortalized – win-win!

The end

I’m calling it. The current fad of serving breakfast cereal, kale smoothies and god knows what else in pre-loved jam jars is over. I saw this in the free Woolworths magazine – a clear sign that every last drop of cool has been rung out of this trend. (Sadly I was reading the Woolies mag in bed clad in my flannel PJs – just be glad I don’t do selfies) Hipster foodies everywhere will be forced to move on. Meanwhile I have no shame and would happily consume alcohol from a jam jar if that were the only serving option.

Cool no more.

Cool no more.

Me too

Today I too was whacked with the silly stick. It was high time to take my loose coin collection to the bank. We transferred it to a bucket for easy cartage. The problem was that the bucket was too heavy for my feeble arms to carry more than a few paces. Hence I placed the bucket in one of my husband’s wheeled storage containers from Bunnings.

Heavy freight.

Heavy freight.

I then dragged this contraption several blogs down the street in full view of hipster cafes to my bank only to find it did not have one of those new fangled coin counting machines. The lovely young teller offered to cart the bucket to the neighboring bank which does have a coin counting machine rather than total it up himself. We stepped out into the sunlight there it was like a gift from God – an abandoned shopping trolley! I transferred everything to the trolley and trundled up the street looking like a complete dork albeit an aided dork.

The moral to this story is that $420 is worth dorkifying yourself in front of your entire suburb for. The other moral is don’t allow your coinage to build up – spend it!

What’s completely ridiculous in your life right now.






I’ve Been Thinking About…

I’ve been thinking about Katy Perry and so has Reservoir Dad.


Your husband probably has been too if the truth be known.  I am coming at the whole Katy Perry phenomena from an entirely different (ahem) angle. With her curvilicious bombshell image and her catalogue of  irrepressiblely catchy tunes its no wonder that Ms Perry is among the most popular female artists on the planet. Nevertheless I believe that she could expand her popularity even further. Currently she’s ignoring the married, middle aged but not dead yet demographic. With just a little lyrical tweaking Katy could bring this potentially massive audience into the fold.

For instance “Hot and Cold” could be rewritten to describe the trials and tribulations of sharing a doona. “Roar” celebrates self actualisation and is a mighty positive message for the kids yada yada yada. Perhaps the song would resonate more deeply with long term marrieds if it were reworded thus

 I got the rattle of a chain saw, fell asleep after red wine
‘Cause I am pissed and you’re gonna hear me snore
Louder, louder than an elephant
‘Cause I am pissed and you’re gonna hear me snore
You’re gonna hear me snore

Had too much red wine now you're gonna hear me snore.

Had too much red wine now you’re gonna hear me snore.

The risque “Happy Birthday” no doubt has some appeal with the over 40s gents. I’d suggest it would appeal even more if instead of

So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big balloons
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big balloons

it went something like

So let me get you in your sox and jocks
It’s time to bring out the big Bunnings gift card
So let me get you in your sox and jocks
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big Bunnings gift card

What he wanted.

What he wanted.

What he got.

What he got.

I know for a fact that a Bunnings gift card would excite my husband far more than balloons in any sense of the word.

Then of course there’s “Teenage Dream” which could be re-imaged 25 years later with “Middle-aged dream”

Gonna get your heart racing

In my baggy Mom jeans

Be a middle aged dream tonight

And the hits keep coming as it were.

On the opposite end of the spectrum P1, my seven year old is currently obsessed with The Voice Kids. She was obsessed with MasterChef Kids but has decided that singing is easier than cooking. In two years time she’ll be old enough to compete and you can be sure that the franchise will not have disappeared by then.  P1 is taking advantage of the time lag by cramming in as much practice as possible. And yes we are hearing her “Roar”.

If I have gleaned anything from the program its that Delta is supremely irritating. Otherwise I’ve observed that the pint sized performers show a maturity beyond their years. The choice of material is often very adult. Young’ens belt out “Not pretty enough”, “The this girl is on fire” etc like they’ve lived and breathed every word. Of course they are all unbelievably talented but I like to see kids being kids. It would be so refreshing if a contestant got up and breathed new life into a school yard classic like

Jingle bells, Batman smells

Robin flew away

Wonder Woman 

Lost her bosom

All on Christmas Day


batman-smells-christmas-song med


Jesus Christ, Superstar

Riding down the street on his Yamaha

Cops were there

But he dont care

‘Cause he’s in bullet proof underwear

 Then there’s the timeless classic

Mama mia

I’ve got diarrhoea

10/4 open up the dunny door

Too late

All over the kitchen floor


Too late

Done it on a dinner plate

Even at their young and tender ages my girls are showing an aptitude for making up puerile lyrics and I am not discouraging it. I may have laughed when they celebrated the end of toilet training with this little ditty;

“Now you’re just a potty 

Where I used to go”

I may have also let out a gigle when they worked their magic on that 90s dance floor anthem by C&C Music Factory

Everybody dance now

Pull your buddies pants down

Everybody fart now

Brrrrp, brrp, brrp, brrrp

It seems the apple doesn’t fall too far away from the tree and I couldn’t be prouder. Meanwhile Dadabs rolls his eyes and pretends not to know us.

Would you like to see pop music pitched at the middle aged? How about kids action like kids instead of mini Mariah Careys on kids programming?



Its Katy Perry : 1, Mumabs: 0

Its Katy Perry : 1, Mumabs: 0


10 Things I Am Over

As I know you enjoy my middle class whining so much, I’m doing a 10 to 1 countdown of things I have thoroughly had the Richard with. Without any further ado;

10. Bore-gust.

I introduced this concept in a post that nobody read. Basically its like Dry July except the booze is staying (along with chocolate and coffee). Instead I am sacrificing posting about hawties on this blog for the entire month of August – hence the catchy name – Bore-gust. August is only a few days in and I am over it already! Nevertheless I am a woman of my word and I will restrain myself until at least September 1.

9. Cherry Pits.

Whose idea was it to place a tooth shattering stone in the middle of the world’s most succulent and tasty fruit? Oh right – it was Mother Nature’s. Its just more evidence (along with menstruation ) that she is a bitch. Doesn’t humanity have the technology to genetically engineer this minor inconvenience out of existence? Just because we can means we should right?

Good one - Mother Nature!

Good one – Mother Nature!

8. Kids Swimming Lessons

Dont you just love standing around the public pool – NOT? I can feel the brain cells literally dying in my skull whilst my eyes tear up from all the chlorine gas in the vicinity. Then after half an hour of my life that I’ll never get back watching my child do laps, I get to tackle the sodden change room. Its even worse when I have to take two them and watch them simultaneously instead of wasting even more time flicking through Facebook on my phone.  How I loathe swimming lessons – almost as much as

7. The Park

I have had seven years of standing around  public parks. I am completely over it. Mind you if there is a nearby cafe and some half decent company I can bear it on a good day.

6. Dieting

I began restricting my food intake at age 14 when some of my harder edges naturally began to soften. That’s thirty years of being on a diet. Thirty long years of skipped desserts and not having fries with that.  I only allowed myself an entire ice block when I was pregnant. These days I have been known to do crazy shite like buying chocolate honey comb bars, taking  few bites and throwing the rest in the bin.  I’ve even tried Jenny Craig when my weight hit a high point. It was a complete failure. I am over it. I want to eat all the food.

Like these delicious triple chocolate brownies I made with P1.

Like these delicious triple chocolate brownies I made with P1.

5. Double Drop Off.

My husband’s office is a simple 30 minute bus ride from my home. However when you have young kids nothing is simple. I drop P1 at the her school whilst fending off various whinges. Then I drive to the next suburb, deposit P2 in daycare and explain yet again to the staff why she is inappropriately dressed. Once liberated from children I negotiate the labyrinth of backstreets to find free all day parking. With the car securely anchored I make like the Proclaimers and walk 500 miles then I will walk 500 more just to be the Mum who misses the bus to Central Station. The whole process takes about 90 minutes by which time I collapse at my desk.

4. Double Pick Up

Reverse the above in the afternoon and throw in some shopping along the way. Exhausted by the double pick up and drop off its all I can do to throw together dinner for my family. Which leads to me to the next thing I am over

3. Cooking dinner

I make an effort  to give my family a variety of healthy but tasty cuisine. However it difficult to keep ones cooking mojo up when one’s endeavours are met with constant criticism. For example  the other week I produced a hearty beef bourguignon (with tender beef cheeks) only to have P2 declare it tasted like ” one thousand bugs crawling in my underpants”.  I suppose if you are going to be an ungrateful wretch you may as well be creative about it.

Funnily I never get these sorts of comments from the kids on pizza or taco night. Instead I get them from my husband! Last night he complained about my use of the wheat based stand and stuff tacos. He preferred the corn chip type apparently. I may have become ever so slightly unhinged at that. I may have uttered something unprintable.

2. Washing Dishes

It is said that there is nothing certain in life except for death and taxes. I would like to add a few items to this list of life’s certainties.

- politicians of all persuasions are fundamentally unlikeable

- if you’re a Mum you’ll spend half your life doing the dishes.

- your husband will never do the dishes voluntarily meaning you’ll have to resort to threats and promises.

My autobiography - Dishes - The Story of my Life.

My autobiography – Dishes – The Story of my Life.

1. Wiping Bums

This should be self evident. Back in the Jurassic age when I was managing a stockbroking back office I used to joke that I had to wipe the dealers bums metaphorically.  I had no idea what lay in store.


What are you over?





Disclaimer: This post will be politically incorrect and tongue in cheek. If you can not handle political incorrectness and tongues in cheeks click away now.

You probably don’t know this and I doubt that you care very much but the geek community is currently all a lather. “Why?”  I hear about three of you ask. The Marvel comic empire has recast Captain America as man of colour. The African American actor Anthony Mackie is about to don the red, white and blue spandex.

And I for one have no problem with that.

And I for one have no problem with that.

Resistance from the nerd herd isn’t based on race for geekiness embraces all colours and creeds. Rather the noise is coming from purists who object to iconic characters being messed with. Why not invent new kick ass superheroes to represent ethnic diversity on the screen?

Plans are afoot to reintroduce Thor as a woman. In the eyes of many (including myself) this is taking political correctness a step too far. If it’s a nod to feminism it’s misguided. In fact I would stress that its detrimental to women (especially middle aged housewives) as it is depriving them of a perve.

Thor - the only reason many middle aged couples can agree on a date night movie.

Hemsworth – the only reason many middle aged couples can agree on a date night movie.

Meanwhile woe betide Stan Lee if he dares to turn my favorite villainous crumpets Magneto and Loki into chix! There’d be rioting in the streets (well a one woman protest ) if female kind are denied that action.

As I have stressed before, I am a feminist. I DO want to see women get equal billing when it comes to saving the world from the multitude of supernatural, alien and mad scientific threats that it constantly faces. The way forward is to add new female superheroes to the stable. If feminism is to be truly vindicated these new super butt kicking sheilas should have realistic bodily proportions and be aged over 35.

With this in mind I would like to pitch a fresh heroine to Marvel Studios - The Wicked Cougar.

An extremely rough artistic impression.

An extremely rough artistic impression.

By day the Wicked Cougar is a mild mannered middle aged mother. She may or may not live in the Eastern Beaches, do a bit of bookkeeping and have an uproariously funny blog. By night she transforms into a bad guy hunting machine and is at her most devastating when the bad guys just happen to be young and hunky.

Her arsenal consists of magic bullets containing a potent mix of cheap botox and nasty sparkling wine which render evil doers both immobile and insensible. Nevertheless her strategy of choice is scaring the bejeepers out of her prey with inappropriate cheesy come-ons.

Like this one.

Like this one.


See the fear in his eyes!

See the fear in his eyes!

The best mode of transport for the Wicked Cougar would be a Wicked campervan with an offensive misandrist slogans on it such as

“A hard man is good to find”


“A man in the hand is worth two in the bush”*

Alas thanks to the power of social media that is no longer an option. I’m going with a gleaming white Porsche SUV that no one suspects of ever going off road let alone on a hawt villain chase.

My first choice of transportation.

My first choice of transportation.

Being the magnanimous sort that I am happy to volunteer my self to play the leading role.  Wearing skin tight leopard print spandex and kicking butt along side the likes of Hugh Jackman (or rather drinking G&Ts in our trailers whilst our body doubles kick butt) is an arduous task but like scrubbing the loos someone has to do it. Having said that in recent weeks I’ve found myself outclassed on every level by Jacqui Lambie.  I thought I was the consummate dirty old woman but after Jacqui’s recent radio comments I’ve accepted that I’ve got a long way to go.

First up to the casting couch.

First up to the casting couch.

When it comes to channeling the spirit of the Wicked Cougar Jacqui is a hands down winner. I nominate her to take up the leopard skin print mask. Well endowed and cashed up villains consider yourselves warned! Jacqui cant wait to get her claws into you. Rioooooooow!

In the extremely unlikely event that the folks at Marvel reject this proposal I intend to go down the crowd funding route in order to bring my vision to the big screen. I’m not content with just one feature film mind you – I’m totally thinking about the franchise. I’ll start with a trilogy.

1) Claws – Wicked Cougar Origins

2) The Eye of The Cougar

3) Carry On Cougar.

What say you blog fans? Would you support a dirty old lady as a super hero?

Heroically yours


* We have the fabulous Mae West to thank for those gems.


I’ll Show You Mine

So the the lovely Em at Have a Laugh On Me and the fabulous Kirsten and Kirsten and Co have shown us theirs. Handbags that is. I invite you to go and judge these ladies by the contents of their carry alls  –  here http://havealaughonme.com/2014/07/24/behold-the-contents-of-my-handbag/  and here http://kirstenandco.com/whats-in-your-handbag/.

As my favorite fearless blog-panions* have bared all its time for me to show you mine as it were. Drumroll please.

Here is my handbag.

Release your inner serpent!

Release your inner serpent!

I chose the faux snake skin because it represents my animal spirit – a sinful serpent. Ssssssssssssssssss!  Not really – I chose it because it was cheap and I have been known to be a tight wad. More importantly the black and grey colour scheme accessorizes perfectly with grime.

Keeping with the snake metaphor (because I am enjoying it so much), let’s shed a layer of skin. Here is what lies beneath.

Its what's on the inside that counts.

Its what’s on the inside that counts.


 Not one but two pairs of garish sunglasses – because as I always say Variety is a Spice Girl. If I’m in work mode I go for the conservative beige pair. If I am feeling just a little cheeky however I will don the bright pink number in order to guarantee maximum clash with my outfit.

Not one but two pink hair ties – which coordinate spectacularly with the sunglasses. Fashion bloggers everywhere should be trembling at their keyboards.

Not one but two pens – you never know when a hunk is going to ask you for a pen hopefully to take down your phone number. Sorry you caught me day dreaming again. Nowadays I give out phone numbers for the purposes of play dates rather than hawt dates.

Wallet - Because money talks and it says “Make mine a large skinny cappuccino please”.

Coinage – Which has staged a mass breakout from the confines of my wallet.

Cards –  These appear to have teamed up with the shrappa and escaped my wallet.

Bus ticket - Dadabs office is located in FunkyTown where the hills are alive with the sound of parking meters. Besides bus travel gives me ample time to consume social media through my phone. I dont do nearly enough of that otherwise.

Comb and lipstick – A rare concession towards good grooming.

Gym tag and locker key – Like my good self these items haven’t seen much action lately.

Kleenex Clean an Fresh Wipes – Because spills happen. You can be certain that the most disastrous spills (I’m talking chocolate milkshake and on white T shirt ) will occur when you haven’t got these babies with you. Its a predictable as the sun rising in Sydney’s East and shining all day out of the East’s collective derriere.

Miscellaneous receipts –  which really need to go into the recycling but I’ve been slack.

Keys – God have mercy on my soul if these ever go missing again because Dadabs surely wont.

I trust you’ve been titilated by my big reveal. Why dont you show us yours?









* A term I just invented meaning people you’ve become friendly with through blogging if not IRL.



Scary Age

In just two short months I will be turning 44. It brings to mind an episode of the that much cited sociological documentary Sex And The City where the Miranda character declares 44 to be her “scary age”. By that she meant it was the age where it was “all over Red Rover”. If one hadn’t gotten themselves hitched and sprogged up by then it was never going to happen. Luckily for both Miranda and myself we impregnated and married (in that order) in our late thirties – just before hells gate slammed shut trapping us in the eternal damnation of spinsterhood.

Now that the ominous double fours are approaching it doesn’t feel so scary. I’m not monstrous to behold. My capri pants from over ten years ago still fit and I feel more or less the same as I did when I originally purchased them. (from Petites in DJs – because I am a short ass)  In my own mind I am perennially in my early 30s. Sadly every now and then I catch a glance in the mirror and get a mighty shock. Middle age is the new black in Chez Abulous (just as long as you don’t wear the black too close to your face because its aging).

Fortunately for me and the pre-menopausal sisterhood, the font of cultural wisdom that is Esquire Magazine has decreed that sleeping with a woman over 40 is now acceptable. Hooray!


The article points to Hollywood A-listers like Cameron Diaz, Sofia Vergara, Leslie Mann and Amy Poehler to support the argument. Fair point – most straight males above puberty would not kick these ladies out. Thanks Esquire for establishing that its hawt to be over 40 as long as you don’t look like you are.

It seems to me that in the past once a woman reached a “certain age” she was let of the hook aesthetically speaking. Now the expectation that we will remain hawter for longer is unrelenting. Of course we are smart women. We understand the futility of comparing ourselves to models and actresses at any age. Nevertheless the pressure to conform to cultural standards seeps in almost like osmosis.

Back in 1967 Anne Bancroft played the original cougar Mrs Robinson in the movie The Graduate. She was only 36 – but was thought of as an “older woman”* . The legendary Ava Gardner was rejected for the role. At age 45 she was considered geriatric.

Anne Bancroft the face of middle age in 1967

Anne Bancroft the face of middle age in 1967

By contrast in 2014 Jennifer Aniston is the face of 45.

Just an Eastern Beaches mum on the school run.

Just an Eastern Beaches mum on the school run.

Even more alarmingly Jen’s friend Courtney Cox is the new face of 50. Bloody Hell! Of course there’s airbrushing, botox, personal training, more botox and more airbrushing involved but still – Bloody Hell.

My middle aged friend.

My middle aged friend.

If Jen and Courtney are not painful enough here’s the new poster girl for 73 – Raquel Welch.

Now that's what I call a cougar!

Now that’s what I call a cougar!

Its making me lose to the will to live. I may as well dunk my head into a tub of Caramello icecream.

Like this one.

Lucky I had this one handy.

At what age will society deem it acceptable for women to “let themselves go”? Some are still trying to cling to youth (with questionable success) into their 80s.

Former sex symbol Kim Novak at the 2014 Oscars.

Former sex symbol Kim Novak at the 2014 Oscars aged 81.

The problem is that for every individual who manages to delay the ravages of time through a combination of good genetics, hard work and quality cosmetic intervention there are dozens who overdo the cosmetic intervention and end up looking as scarily unnatural as a robotic Stepford Wife. It seems that the wealthier strata of society is spawning an army of middle aged fembots with immobile foreheads and frighteningly tight jawlines. I’ve seen the future and I’m terrified.

In the future society will be overrun by Joan Rivers clones.

In the future society will be overrun by Joan Rivers clones.

I realize that I’m enormously privileged to even have this as a concern. I’d wager that the botox vs notox argument is not a hot topic of conversation in the refugee camps of sub-Saharan Africa, the Gaza strip or the Crimean peninsula right now.  Nevertheless a first world issue is still an issue.  As medical science has not yet uncovered an elixir of youth, aging is here to stay. When is Western society going to collectively deal with it let alone celebrate it?

Do you feel there is too much pressure to hold back the years? What is your scary age?




*Anne Bancroft was only 6 years older than her co-star Dustin Hoffman.


Mojos MIA

At the moment I feel like I’m living in the Austin Powers universe. However instead of having a sassy code name such as Felicity Shagwell or Ivana Humpalot, I’m more like Ms Willa Knott. It’s as though Dr Evil  dispatched Fat Bastard to steal my Mojo with his high tech Mojo extractor.

Mumabulous is the latest victim of the Mojo extractor

Mumabulous is the latest victim of the Mojo extractor

I’m not talking about marital relations here. Thankfully for all I intend to stick to my pledge about not discussing that – what goes on between a vertically challenged middle aged couple stays between a vertically challenged middle aged couple. ( I hope you can scrub your mind clear of that mental image). Its more that my enthusiasm for certain mundane activities is waning.

My cooking mojo is missing in action

Decades ago the mother of an old flame said to me ” Daahling a woman faces two choices every day – what to wear and and what to cook”. As a first year economics student I was completely aghast. I’d never heard anything so antiquated. Fast forward twenty five years and I could see that the pearl and twin set wearing north shore matriarch who I completely disdained at the time had a point. Churning out meals and trying to make them even moderately interesting day after day is a major chore. I’ve got about 6 dishes on high rotation. Dadabs takes over the culinary duties on the weekend and knocks up Master Chef standard fare. Absolutely everything is plated up with style and garnished with fresh herbs from the garden no less. A humble sandwich is inedible without a decorative sprig of parsley.

After giving the matter all of 2 minutes of thought I initiated this seafood pizza.

After giving the matter all of 2 minutes of thought I initiated this seafood pizza.

My exercise mojo is missing in action

There is a reason why Mumabulous is NAWT a fitness blog. I’ll come right out and say that I do not enjoy working out (Although I dont mind bending my elbow or flexing my retina). Nevertheless I enjoy feeling fitter and trimmer as a result of exercise. Last year I was getting to the gym 3 to 4 times a week. This year sadly the effort/reward curve is flattening which is a fancy pants way of saying I couldn’t be bothered anymore.

The only time I’m get is after 8.30pm when the kids have gone to bed.  By then a comfy couch, a doona and series 4 of Game of Thrones via Chromecast awaits. I ask you blog fans – when faced with a choice between going for a walk in the frigid night air or sampling hawt leather clad dudes wielding swords what would you do?

Meanwhile unlike in Game of Thrones summer is coming and this is my bikini. Its a frightening prospect.

Summer is coming!

Summer is coming!

I really need to find my “Eye of the Tiger” or rather “Eye of the Cougar”, make like Rocky and get myself match fit.* Either that or invest in a sequinned leopard skin print kaftan.

Meanwhile my gym gear mocks me!

Meanwhile my gym gear mocks me!

Screw it - have a coffee instead.

Screw it – have a coffee instead.


My blogging mojo is missing in action

Have you noticed that the internet is currently awash with blogging tips and advice? Like the proverbial rebel without a clue I am completely ignoring all of it. Hence my lack of success as a blogger.

When it comes to blogging I'm the wild one.

When it comes to blogging I’m the wild one. (Brando was hawt for a nano-second 60 years ago.)

Recently I’ve read about the importance of having a niche in social media. “Niche” is defined by dictionary.com as “a shallow recess”. Last time I looked I was not in need of any recess either shallow or deep. What’s wrong blogging about anything and everything? I stick to the philosophy that Variety is a Spice Girl.

Similarly I am reading countless dissertations about finding your “authentic voice”, “letting your readers fall in love with the real you” yada, yada, yada. This theory completely discounts the joy of writing as a caricature. Brenda can authentically tell you that it is awesome fun to have an alter ego. Would you rather read Brenda’s authentic thoughts about domestic life or Mumabulous’ inauthentic thoughts about being a dirty old lady?

Has your mojo ever gone MIA? How did you get your groove back?

This is how Stella got her groove back. Lots like she's been at the gym.

This is how Stella got her groove back. Looks like she’s been at the gym.




*Some musical motivation to get myself back to the treadmill. Cue the strains of the Rocky theme song

“Its the eye of the cougar

Cops a perve at the gym

Checking out all the hunky young crumpets

And the free weights section

Is so entertaining

Cause she’s watching them all with the eyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Of the cougar.”




Get More Fabulous

In economic news just to hand I went shopping. Analysts are currently busy upgrading their forecasts for retail spending, consumer confidence and GDP accordingly. I didn’t just spend like a drunken sailor. My performance was more like Wayne Swan in 2009.  Unlike the nation my personal budget did not stray into deficit. However I managed to make a whopping great dent in the surplus.

I dont need to hire a spin doctor to put my own personal cash splash in a positive light. I was not squandering Dadabulous’ hard earned. I was investing it in the future of my fabulousness. OK – it wasn’t exactly national building stuff. It was more an exercise in “cougar” building. I have declared loudly and proudly many times on this blog my utter commitment to becoming a kooky old bag. With my 44th birthday fast approaching and a 12% increase in wrinklage according to the Ponds Institute (not to mention a few grey eyebrow hairs – WTF?), I’ve decided its high time to walk the talk.

Its time to unleash the animal within – specifically the cougar but the old cow gets a guernsy too. Its time to bring out the big guns – animal print.


With leopard print its double or nothing.

With leopard print its double or nothing.

And if you’ve got any attitude at all

you team your fur with pleather.

you team your fur with pleather.

Dadabulous wanted to know how many snakes were sacrificed to make this el cheapo knock off bag

the rest of that conversation is unprintable.

the rest of that conversation is unprintable.

Animal prints are fun but being a cougar can also be about pastels.  I purchased this age inappropriate woollen tunic from Review.

I luff it.

I luff it.

Then I imposed my own taste upon my seven year old. I am completely bummed that this didn’t come in adult size 10.

Like mother like daughter.

Like mother like daughter.

Meanwhile sunglasses must reflect the personality of the owner.

In my case bright 'n cheap.

In my case bright ‘n cheap.

A cougar needs a few good role models. I was inspired by the Real Housewives of Melbourne I decided to let my inner sparkle shine through.

Appropriate day wear.

Appropriate day wear dont you think?

I reflect like a disco ball in this baby. It can be a tad distracting in the office.

Finally as my life is a bed of roses my choice of clothing should reflect this. I purchased this wool tunic dress from a chain called Blue Illusion. I think the shop would be better named “Have no illusion – you shop in here you are old”. Still it looks smoking with opaque tights and boots and it hides a multitude of winter sins.

I have no illusions blue or otherwise.

I have no illusions blue or otherwise.

Who wants to join my on the journey to Cougar Town?

More importantly do you feel a personal sense of obligation to stimulate the economy starting with the retail sector?



Here'a a gratuitous beach shot!

Here’a a gratuitous beach shot!