A Senior Hippizen

The blogging muse can strike at odd places. Yesterday in the supermarket I foolishly stood behind a group of three elderly ladies at the checkout. (I refuse to do the self service check out on moral grounds – cheap retail behemoths that dont want to pay for staff). After some time flicking through trashy magazines I felt irritation well up within me. That’s not suppose to happen on a daycare day! While  Usain Bolt’s recent achievements makes one ponder just how fast  humans can move these ladies were pushing the envelope in the opposite direction. They seemed to be testing the limits of slowness. My annoyance was tinged with guilt. After all I’m not getting any younger and will be in their position one day.  Then it I realized that this thought was rubbish. I’ll  grow frail and even more feeble of mind but surely I wont be blockading supermarket queues!

Wish I had seen this sign at Colesworths yesterday.

Unlike The Who I dont ” hope I die before I get old” but I do intend to be one groovy old duck – a senior hippizen!!  I’m only in my early 40s but its never to early to begin collecting the accruements of disgraceful aging.

Classic rockers.

I’m starting with the bedazzled kaftan and funky earring collection. I’ll start as I mean to go on by savoring plenty of red wine. Infact this evening I’m enjoying Mamre Brook 2005 Barossa Shiraz. I’ll also increase my daily intake of chocolate for its medicinal properties of course. Other means of achieving the mantle of senior hippizen include;

–  Volunteering for everything. The most interesting jobs in this world are unpaid.

– Staying technically relevant, having an IT husband will surely help.

– Reading voraciously. Hell I might even get around to Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey but they’ll be on the bottom of the pile.

– I will be a grey nomad getting to the places I regret not seeing in my 20s.

Like your style ladies.

– Scrounging around markets and op shops for funky, original pieces. What’s stopping me now – kids!

– Eschewing sleek post modernism in favor of color, patterns and mismatching prints.

– Saying pretentious things like “post modernism” even though it surely is an outmoded term already.

– Chuckling at all the young whippersnappers with their 30 Things To Do Before 30 lists. I’ll have an 80 Things Before 80 list and we all know that bigger and longer is better!

– I’ll be a stalwart at community college doing all the things I currently dont have time  for.

– Taking in live shows which don’t feature Dorothy The Dinosaur.

– Attending art exhibitions.

– Appreciating young hunks from behind my over-sized embellished sunglasses.

– Continuing to write. Minor issues like declining health and mental prowess will not shut me up.

And here are a few things I don’t plan on doing;

– Living vicariously through the Princesses.

–  Dismissing the music of today as rubbish even though it is clearly inferior to that of the musical golden age that was the 1980s.

– Cruising the local bingo halls for talent. I cant make the same promise about golf courses, lawn bowling clubs or Rotary.

– Playing the pokies. I can not imagine a more boring pursuit although standing around parks pushing swings comes close.

– Taking live shows and art exhibitions too seriously.

– Wearing gabardine anything.

– Blockading supermarket queues!

I’m making aging sound like fun, almost something to look forward to despite the physical and mental decline that goes with it.

Aging swingers.

How do you plan to morph from being a yummy mummy through middle aged MILFdom into a sassy senior hippizen? I’d love to hear your tips for aging disgracefully.



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The Surprise Beginning


Crappola Craft

What should you do with your kids on a lovely spring morning when your personal bank account has hit a five year low? The correct answer would be arrange to meet up with a Mumrade at the park and scrounge some coinage from underneath the sofa  to fund your coffee habit. What did Mumabulous do yesterday? Took the girls to the nearest Westfield and purchased a car boot load of craft materials. I accelerated my cash burn rate (oops slipping into stock analyst talk) by letting P1 run wild grabbing at everything her heart desired.  Proof my friends that after five years as a mum the remaining strands of my sanity have disintegrated like a wet tissue.

We got flower shaped boxes, wooden star wands, pink glittery paper, stickers, hole-punchers, ribbon and a big bag of sequins. You might think that this would be enough to build our very own mardi gras float but we didn’t stop there. I also indulged the princesses in a Riot Arts and Craft Show Bag.  At $20 it makes a an excellent child’s birthday gift, particularly if you dont like the parents. The show bag contains enough crafty crappola to ensure your house will never be clean again!

Inside the show bag – It will make you want to Riot!

I confess that I have a secret identity as a card making nerd and so already have crates full of this junk. I fear I’m teetering on the precipice of scrap booking – a cold, dark void from which no hip or coolness can escape.

Upon our return home we begun opening our parcels and setting up for an afternoon of crafty fun. The mess spread as quickly and as widely as Prince Harry’s nudie photos.

If you haven’t trashed your house you aint crafting right!

As boxes were painted and blinged up mess began to seep into every corner of the known universe. Sequins may look innocuous but I believe they are alive and that they breed as soon as they hit the floor. Likewise this stuff – foil confetti! Whoever came up with the idea of handing bagfuls of it to kids needs to be sent to the naughty step – permanently.

A bag of evil.

P1 and P2 completed their respective masterpieces.

P1s latest jewellery box.

P2 insisted her work be photographed also.

The budding artistes wasted no time in embellishing their star shaped fairy wands.

Two stars for two stars.

By now P2s attention span was stretched to capacity. She retired to watch Gnomeo & Juliet on DVD and peed on the couch. Potty training is not going well.

P1 pushed on pretty much all afternoon while I got my blogs on.

No matter how busy you are there’s always time to strike a pose.

I was very impressed with her “cup person”. She came up with the concept and executed the idea all on her own.

Presenting the “cup person”.

The arduous clean up operation fell squarely on my shoulders. Twenty four hours later I’m still vacuuming up sparkly stuff. Nevertheless I get some satisfaction in that P1 spent the afternoon doing something “real”, away from the TV and computer screens.

To all the crafty Mums out there, you are troupers worth your weight in glitter! To all the non-crafty Mums feeling a tinge of guilt about failing to nourish your child’s creativity, Please dont!!!

Keep sparkling!



Lose Your Shit Friday


Curse Of The Pretty Woman?

While I was ignoring my kids and yakking with some Mumrades at the park on Monday afternoon the conversation turned to Samantha Brick’s appearance on 60 Minutes the previous evening. Ms Brick caused a world wide furore when she claimed in her column in the Daily Mail that hers is a path of misery and woe because she’s just too damned beautiful. (Cue Right Said Fred – I’m Too Sexy). The way she describes it, her life is like an extended commercial for Impulse body spray.

When you’re Sam Brick you don’t this stuff! Mumabulous on the other hand….

Yes – complete strangers have suddenly given her flowers, men regularly send drinks to her table and freebies are lavished on her everywhere she goes. It doesn’t sound too bad  but apparently the sisterhood have their sharpened claws out for her. She reasons that this is because “women find nothing more annoying than someone else being the most attractive girl in a room”. Geez if this were the case Mumabulous would live in a perpetual state of annoyance.  I admit to being constantly irritated but its not due ladies of superior looks, its because of the kids!

60 Minutes pitted Ms Brick against Germaine Greer – low hanging fruit as far as ratings  are concerned. Good old Germaine didn’t disappoint. Love her or blame her for the decline of Western Civilization, she’s always entertaining. On Sunday night she came out with this hum dinger  “She’s wrong about people discriminating against her because she’s beautiful. They discriminate against her because she’s a pain in the arse. I mean, it’s perfectly obvious.”

In my opinion, Brick’s a media genius. The whole “dont hate me because I’m beautiful” schitck is a fabrication to generate buzz. I suspect she received more buzz than she bargained for but she’s riding it for all its worth.  I daresay she’ll profit quite handsomely from the exposure. This is a good thing because she didn’t marry handsomely (Did you see her chubby hubby – Eeeeeeeeeew).*

The whole thing got me thinking. It would have more productive to think about the stock market.  Nevertheless I found myself pondering whether attractive women are ostracized by their peers. My conclusion was that yes it can happen but much depends on the behaviour of the sexy chick in question. Here’s two examples from my past.

Many moons ago I worked as lowly serf  for one of Australia’s leading financial institutions. The company was affectionately nicknamed Australia’s Melrose Place and Another Marriage Proposal.  There was one girl in the accounts department, a dark exotic beauty with bum skimming hair who had the young desk jockeys pandering to her every whim. She would turn up to work with plunging necklines, skirts that grazed her nether regions and sky high stilettos. This is unremarkable nowadays but back in the 90s it was scandalous. Her inappropriate outfits were the number one topic of water cooler conversation. One of our colleagues described her mini’s as “Gosford dresses because they were just below the Entrance -hahahaha”.  She was intelligent, competent and by no means a bad person. Whilst I was always polite and friendly, I kept her at arms length. Why? 1) 99% of her conversation focused on her personal appearance, 2) She was heavily into party plans etc and was constantly trying to sell something.

Too sexy for the office? The guys didn’t think so!

After six weeks of dating she became engaged to one of the big wig fund managers upstairs. The relationship didn’t last – I’m guessing she was just too much hard work for him.

At the same company, a babe in knee high boots and short skirt sashayed into the office as a temp. It didn’t take long for the young bucks (some of them must have been virgins) to start huddling around her panting like love sick puppies. The bitching this provoked was phenomenal. Catty remarks were made about her choice of work attire (black lacey bras under white shirts, sunglasses as a head band etc). The irony is that the chief bitches were themselves very attractive and glamorous young ladies. I suspect that they were jealous that their spot light had been deflected.

Of course it all ended in tears. One day when she was fighting with her boyfriend, a pathetic young accounts clerk took her out for lunch to “console her”. The pair did not return to the office that afternoon. I guess he consoled her long and hard.  Hope it was worth it because she was sacked whilst he clung on to his post. I believe in this case the girl copped the rough end of the stick because of her attractiveness. She could have prevented it by toning down her act but this begs the question why should she?  There’s a whole other blog post in that!

This is somewhat distracting to an accounts reconciliation clerk.

Yes – women can attract bile from “the sisterhood”  for their attractiveness but its usually when they are playing their God given cards to the absolute hilt. However in Samantha Brick’s case, I’m with Germaine. She has no female friends because she’s a pain in the proverbial

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this my gorgeous Mumrades.



* Chubby hubbies can be very appealing but Samantha’s husband Pascal Rubenat is cringe worthy.

 NB: Not a sponsored post but dang I’d like to try my hand at one. 

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photo credit: djking via photo pin cc


Affair Proof Your Marriage

Frankly Dadabulous is quite a catch! Beneath those china blue eyes lies a ferocious intelligence and a heart of gold. Naturally I dont want any of those fly girls in his office getting their dirty mitts on him. I’ve come up with an extremely effective strategy for affair proofing my marriage. It has nothing to do with feeding him lavish five course meals every evening whilst keeping my own weight down, Samantha Brick style. The Mumabulous method is much simpler. I dress him in T-shirts so geeky that no hottie will ever be ensnared by his fatal charm again.

Here’s the Mumabulous guide to babe deflecting dressing.

Heeello Laaadies! This is the Periodic Table T-shirt. Can you imagine a handsome software whiz kid approaching you in a bar with slick line like “Hey Girl, you’re number 79. That’s gold baby gold.”  Nup – neither can I.

Sexiness is elementary ?

This one is a personal favorite. ( I bought it, I’m being serious). Its a torso friendly Large Hadron Collider. It provides an excellent starting point for charming the pants off  young babes. ” Hey girl, I’ve got my own personal LHC. What do you say you and I get together and bump sub atomic particles?”

The LHC is one hell of a big tool.

This one features blue prints for the Star Wars Imperial Walkers – Nuff said.

One for the fans.

The next two represent astronomical “in jokes”. Below is a witty jibe about NASA closing the space shuttle program. It is also a testament to the power of Coke and Mentos.  Its bound to have young lovelies flocking to the wearer asking to stroke his rocket. Zooooom!

We have lift off.

In keeping with the space faring theme, this depicts Pluto’s reaction to being dumped as a planet. The wearer can charm the chicks with his sensitivity and political correctness. Its standing up for the underdog.

Pluto needs some love.

Finally, I present the Spiders on Drugs T-shirt. Its a mixed message but don’t chicks dig that sort of thing? The New Scientist banner screams intelligentsia but the reference to drugs is streetwise, edgy and dangerous! Mmm Hmmm- a bad boy with brains.

Get caught in my web.

My husband goes into his office wearing stuff of this ilk everyday and is always home by 6.30pm. If he’s having an affair he must be doing it quickly and efficiently during his lunch hour. Somehow I think my plan is working.

So there you have it Mumrades. You don’t need Botox, boob jobs, Jenny Craig, gym memberships or Nigella level skills in the kitchen. You just need a good eye for nerdy T-shirts and your man will be yours forever more.



Thankful Thursday


Addicted to Blogs

I’m imagining myself in a sharp man style suit, tangoing with an old fashion wireless microphone. I’m backed by shirtless hunks, staring blankly into the distance as they make a pantomime of playing their guitars. I belt out ” Oh oh oh you like to think that you’re immune to the stuff. Oh Yeh!! Listen to the truth and say you can’t get enough and your gunna’ have to face your addicted to …. blogs”.

I confess that’s my theme song. Friends my name is Brenda and I’m a blogo’holic.  Ever since I started this humble project back in June, I’ve needed a mental crow bar to prize my butt from the office chair and my fingers off the key board. One quick glance at my stats is all I need to become hooked for the day.

Wild horses and rogue toddler can’t drag me away from the desktop.

Do you also suffer from this very 21st century affliction? Here are 10 signs that you too are addicted to blogs and need to be sent straight into digital detox.

* You view your life through the prism of the blog.  You constantly have thoughts like “how can I turn this nappy change into an amusing anecdote”? Or “could I post a photo of my laundry pile Mrs Woog style”?

* You go places and do things specifically so you can blog about the experience.

* Your bladder may be bursting, stomach rumbling and throat parched but you just can’t help checking your stats one last time.

* Your frustration levels spike when the kids moan that they are hungry. They’re keeping you away from your blog.

Kids computer games, the bane of your existence.

* You experience a narcotic high every time you get a new follower or Facebook liker.

* You participate in a different blog link up for every day of the week and three or four on Fridays.

* Your almost three year old is literally ripping the mouse from your hand but this doesn’t stop you from posting yet another facile comment on WoogsWorld even though she never ever replies.

* Actually you’ve spammed Mrs Woog on more than one occasion and fear that this the reason she never ever replies. The sad truth is you probably haven’t registered on her radar.(Woogdar?)

* You have thoughts like “If Mrs Woog did a post like the one I’m doing now she’d get a gazillion hits – why cant the online world wake up to my particular genius?”

When will the world wake up to the genius of this blog?

* You stalk other bloggers relentlessly and even notice when they start using each others turn of phrase.

and finally the definitive sign that you are a hopeless blogo ‘holic.

* The first thing you do in the morning is check your stats.

Would you admit to any of these? Perhaps you’ve got some symptoms of your own that you’d like to add. If the answer is yes its time to switch off the computer, iPad or iPhone before your friends stage an intervention – that is if you have any “real life” friends left.




Lustworthy – Another Shallow Post About Shopping

Last week I experienced weak at the knees, skin tingling, heart pounding lust. I wasn’t looking at Michael Fassbender online again ( OK I’m lying, but for once Fassy was not the cause of my excitement). Like a rogue asteroid I was ensnared by the gravitational pull of Westfield Bondi Junction (WBJ). I collided with the designer fashion level before Bruce Willis could stop me with a nuke. The gorgeous spring fashions had me in a panting, salivating frenzy.

First I wandered into Jigsaw in a trance like state. The soft gelato colours, sweet floral prints and Mad Men style primness has a hypnotic effect.

Gelato colours, floral print, Mad Men retro – a winning trifecta.

It was a case of blogger interrupted as an over zealous shop assistant tried to hand me a catalogue. “Why do you need to take pictures when everything is in here?” she quizzed. With a slight blush and a sheepish grin I explained that I was a blogger. I thought they would be used to our growing tribe by now. Apparently foot soldiers for rival designers sneak in  surreptitiously taking photos and stealing designs. “But why would they need to when everything is the catalogue?” I wondered.

Emboldened I strolled next door to Alannah Hill and proceeded to fall truly, madly deeply in love over and over. Good ol’ Alannah she never changes. Everything is as girly, frilly, and over embellished as its always been. “Less is more” has never been Alannah’s motto. “Maximize the bling!” would be better catch cry and I say” Cheers to that!”  In the immortal words of KC and the Sunshine Band “keep it comin’ Love”.

This is the sort of thing I’ll be wearing in heaven. Its actually quite sleek and post modern by Alannah’s standards.

With Alannah Hill money can buy me luuuuurve.

This one combines two of this season’s hot trends – yellow and prints with quaint bird patterns. I want, want, want it! Can’t you just see me running around the park in this?

A little birdie told me that I’d look fab in this.

I know I’ve already done a comprehensive shoe run down but these are irresistible.

Be still my beating heart!

Whilst I already own a ridiculous number of retro cardigans, I can always make room for just one more. Especially when they are this delicate and pretty. Its pure art.

Mumabulous can never have too many cardies.

Sadly I bid my new friends sweet adieu and headed to this place to refuel. Ladies I bring you the Happy Lab. Its like a small square of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory was lifted from the pages of fiction and transplanted in WBJ. These lolly pops are like someone took the rainbow and boiled it up with sugar.

The Candy Man can.

Re invigorated by my sugar hit, I decided to step beyond my comfort zone and exited the Westfield. That’s right –  there is life beyond its hallowed halls. In the centre of Oxford St mall sits one of my all time favorite stores – Dangerfield. Just the thought of it has me humming Dave Graney’s “You’re just too hip baaaaby”.  Why wasn’t this place around during my misspent youth? Now I can relive my 80s and earlier 90s fantasies through its collection of tartan pants, Doc Martens, rockabilly dresses and velvet just about everything. I’ve got a cherry fetish at the moment so this will most likely be my next purchase. So cute! It would look sweet yet edgy on a 20 year old uni student hipster but somewhat ridiculous on an almost 42 year old Mum. Frankly my dears I don’t give a damn.

Cherry Ripe!

Happy Shopping Mumrades



PS: All though this would make a damn fine sponsored post I regret to inform you that it isn’t.

The Surprise Beginning


Thanks For Nothing Nicole Kidman!

Mumabulous was not supposed to be a blog about body image. As I entered my naughty forties I thought I’d walked away from those tiresome issues, my butt wobbling with every step. I generally go about my daily life with a confidence that was notably absent in my 20s. I’ll happily wear a bikini at age (almost) 42 after 2 kids whereas in my twenties I’d hide behind board shorts. Anyhow just when I’m beginning to feel comfortable in my own skin, this comes along. I’m sure our Nic posed for this photo shoot for the sole purpose of making me feel like rubbish.


This is naughty Nic’s saucy spread for V magazine. I must say, from what I have seen she is very well spread indeed. As much as I rationalize, that Nicole is a genetic freak, has armies nannies so that she can work out six hours a day and has most likely been photo shopped beyond belief*, the truth is Nicole looks smokin’ hot whilst I don’t. Apparently she’s promoting her new movie “The Paper Boy” in which she reportedly does some very kinky things to Zac Efron. (Immediately placing the film well outside the age bracket of Zac’s fanbase).  The naysayers have derided the pictorial as being a desperate attention grab, evidence of a midlife crisis and behaviour unbecoming of a middle aged lady.  Be that as it may, Nic’s critics are jealous. She looks incredible and I’m betting they don’t.

To rub salts in my wounds, when I saw these photos recently in the Sydney Morning Herald the associated article began – “The 45 year old mother of 4 looks anything but mumsy”.  Aaargh. That hit a very raw nerve. I’ve been mistaken for the Sunrise program’s Melissa Doyle, the poster girl of mumsiness – and that was before kids! Six years down the track I’ve taken up permanent residence in the center of Mumsi-town (despite having Funky Town aspirations).  So thanks alot Nic! I was hoping to ease into middle age the way one slides into a hot bubbly spa. You’ve put the kibosh on that plan. With the balmy weather heralding swimsuit hell, you’ve got me seriously considering getting back together with my gym.

Mumabulous – Mayoress of Mumsi-Town.

In the meantime your mumrade in fame and fabulousness Miranda Kerr, aint helping the situation. Every time I step out of my door I am confronted with visions of female perfection courtesy of Miranda being plastered on every bus shelter in town. Who would have thought that public transport could be such a downer?  (Wait dont answer that).

Can’t get enough of Miranda Kerr. Can’t get through the day without a picture of her.

So my gorgeous Mumrades,  I have to ask that eternal question – is it just me? Or does seeing Miranda bloody Kerr in various state of undress every time you catch a bus make you feel like absolute garbage? In the meantime I’ll be drowning my sorrows with the items shown below.

Great for banishing the body image blues.

Betcha Nic and Miranda aren’t getting too much of that good stuff.

Love Mumabulous

* What a fun job retouching those pert buttocks would have been.

The Surprise Beginning