Tag Archives: organisation


Just a few pictures I took (and one Matilda took) to celebrate my unique and whimsical first-born child.

So sorry for the long break – we’re having some computer issues here (the laptop fell off the ironing board and died…)


Matilda likes to take care of her brothers and sister.  She made them a healthy snack after school (pretty sure she wrote out an accompanying menu also)

little notes

She tries really hard to be organised.


She works hard to accommodate visiting fairyfolk.  That’s glitter, by the way, and it got EVERYWHERE.


Though she does seem to employ a bizarre pseudonym for the purpose…


Thankfully, the tooth fairy remembered to visit this time and didn’t have to write an apologetic note (in handwriting remarkably similar to Aunty Jan’s) the following night…


She sets up baffling installation artworks and then photographs them for my blog.

Matilda was talking animatedly to Jack Sprout’s daughter the other night (she of the fabulous birthday party)

“My mum calls me Matilda on her blog.  What does your mum call you on her blog?”

Jack explained to her horrified daughter that not all mothers write blogs and that she did not, in fact, have a blog name like Matilda did.  Accordingly, Matilda and said daughter scurried off to to invent a suitable pseudonym I could use for all the times I need to refer to this little girl.  “Rarity” and “Twilight” were tested and rejected, before they finally settled on “Rainbow Dash”.

So here’s a shout-out to Rainbow Dash.  Live long and prosper.

A telemarketer called up the other day.  He had been pestering us off and on over a couple of days.  Matilda answered it, first noting that the caller id was for “overseas” as it had been the other times.  Even though I was standing a few feet away, Matilda took it upon herself to tell the telemarketer that her mum was not available:  “she’s in the shower at the moment” and that her dad was also unavailable “he’s in the shower too.  They’re both in the shower together.  I have to go now.  Bye!”

He hasn’t called us back.



Label Fail.

Calm and Factual Label

I have this thing about label makers.

Something about those neat, white strips, calmly stating important facts in no-nonsense typeface just speaks to me.

I figure if I were to own a label maker, I would finally become Organised Lady. My household would run like a well-oiled machine. My children would arrive on Book Week Day wearing elaborate hand-sewn costumes. Friends would pop over for a spontaneous catch-up to find me relaxing in an immaculate house, the smell of a delicious, healthy treat wafting out of the (shiny, clean) oven.
I wanted that label maker.

But, I remonstrated with myself, such things really are an expensive extravagance. There really isn’t much I can achieve with a label maker that I can’t also achieve with a permanent marker and a roll of masking tape…

And I almost believed myself.

But then, last week, Mr Knightley casually commented that he’d seen label makers on special at the local stationery emporium. Was that something I could use?

When I had fully recovered my powers of speech, I reassured Mr Knightley, in an abundance of words, rapidly spoken, that I did indeed covet – er, need – such an object.

The Precious

Oh, just look at it.

I didn’t know it was going to be pink. I know it’s childish, but I love it when things are bright pink. I was thoroughly over-excited by my new acquisition.

But I wasn’t the only one.

It started when Harry took my label maker to a quiet corner, typed out the entire alphabet and then printed several labels to commemorate this achievement.

I admonished Harry, confiscated the label maker and placed it high out of reach.

Harry watched and waited.

The next time I pulled down the label maker, Harry was ready. The first moment my back was turned, Harry absconded with it to further investigate this mechanical wonder. This time, he managed to jam it all up. I firmly resolved, as I extracted scraps of twisted labels with my eyebrow tweezers, to keep the precious contraption out of reach at all times on the top shelf of the pantry, next to the Milo tin.
Which brings us to this morning.

After coaxing a particularly reluctant Annie out of a dirty nappy and into her cot for a sleep, I returned to the kitchen to find Harry covered in Milo. In the moments that followed, I took in the following information:

  1. A kitchen stool had been pushed into the pantry
  2. The label maker was now on the bench
  3. Harry had merrily printed off THE REST OF THE TAPE whilst sitting at the bench eating Milo

Here’s what happened next:

  1. I started yelling and storming about the house like a demented rhino, firing off abusive texts to my husband.
  2. Harry burst into tears and then rubbed his tear-stained Milo face all over my top.
  3. Christopher Robin walked through the floor-Milo and tracked it through the house
  4. Annie woke up.

Label Maker Mess

I had a read over the warranty, but there’s nothing in it to cover the wanton destruction brought about by insane two-year-old saboteurs…

My one consolation is that Dymo – or, indeed, Milo – might approach me with an endorsement deal for introducing my readers (yes, both of them!) to the wonders of their product.

Perhaps they could pay me in label cartridges?