My Best Friend


This is a story about a very special lady. A lady who is stronger than she knows and who I’m proud to call my Best Friend.

We met 8 or so years ago, in the Emergency Department of a small district hospital. It was my first day in the department, a new rotation in my New Grad year. I was paired with Angie, she would guide me through my first day in the department and “show me the ropes”. Within an hour of our first shift together I knew I wanted to be the nurse she is.

Our friendship developed, and I was introduced to her friends. Sandy, Melly B and Chelle. Our first dinner out was to a cafe in Brighton-le-sands. Lots of talking, lots of laughing and a few drinkies.

Charli, Angie, Sandy and I (L to R)

The friendship continued to develop around our rosters with lots of late nights, copious amounts of beverages and laughs.

We were in our twenties, carefree and loving life. There was many a night of alcohol induced debauchery followed by horrendous hangovers managed by a team of dedicated nurses.

New Year 2006/2007: Before and After

Work Christmas Party 2006

Friends came and went, Chelle left us for Singapore, Melly B left us for the mountains. Charli arrived, left for the rural life and has now come back. Sandy has gone for the rural life as well and is loving it! But in all that time, Angie was there.


She watched as I got married and she was there when I left for greener pastures (she was with me when I got the job offer). I’ve been there through out her career moves and I was there when she got engaged. She was there for me through both my pregnancies and I was supposed to be there to help her down the aisle but a troubled pregnancy had me in hospital. She’s God Mother to Hurricane Boy and I stood by her as tragedy struck her family. I’ve watched as she has slowly become the person she is meant to be and is finally living the life she deserves.

She is my sister from another mother and I am proud to call her my friend. She is stronger than she knows and on the days that I’m about to lose my shit I know she’ll be there to listen to me rant, as ill be there for her.



Just a little bit of spew…

Thursday morning started as any other. 4.30am Hurricane Boy wakes and comes into our bed. He climbs over the top and settles back to sleep in his favourite spot. Smack bang in the middle of mummy and daddy, arms on our pillows, feet on the dog. Our bed gets a bit full at times.

6 am, Hurricane boy wakes with a cough and a splutter. You know the type that turns into a chunder?! I spring into action! Jump straight out of bed, drag Hurricane Boy to the edge of the bed and hang him over the edge. I’d rather clean up vomit off my floor than in my bed. I send Handy Hubby for a towel and Hurricane Boy assures me that “I not be sick mummy”. I resettle him in bed and Mr Giggles wakes.

I leave Handy Hubby and Hurricane Boy in bed and start the morning. It travels like any other morning, until the deathly pale Hurricane Boy agrees to toast instead of weet bix for brekky. This would normally elicit screams and the onset of WWIII.

He picked at the toast, and then promptly grabbed his “bunny” and “bankie”, curled up into a ball on the lounge and laid down. ALARM BELLS!

And then I heard it, the rumble that could only signify that bad things are coming.

Spew. And more spew. And then some more. And just when you think your in the clear, a bit more. You could be mistaken for thinking that a sequel of “The Exorcist” was being filmed in my living room. On the plus side it was only the top end and no one else seems to be effected. So far.

In between mopping up spew, i was trying to keep a now speedy, crawling Mr Giggles out of the vomit bucket and away from his miserable brother. Thankfully I have a linen cupboard full of towels, a really good washing machine and a mother who was more than willing to help out by watching the little one while I mopped up after Hurricane Boy and got my shit together so we could take a trip to the doctors. Fingers crossed its all resolved and he’s on the mend.

God knows I deal with enough of it at work!

NM x

sick boy finally asleep

Just a little bit of poo…

As a Registered Nurse, I have seen my fair share of poo. In fact, I thought I’d seen it all. I’ve dealt with caked on poo, bloody poo, watery poo, elephant turds, pellets and black poo. I’ve ended up wearing it, I’ve walked in it, I’ve had it wiped on me, I’ve had it thrown at me and one night, almost mistook a smear of it for chocolate. You name it, I’ve seen it. And truthfully it only gets worse the older you get.

image source

We are taught that what goes in must come out and what it looks like upon exit can indicate a problem. Good bowel health is important and as mothers we become obsessed by it. What’s normal? What’s not? Breast Milk poo, Formula poo, Solids poo, Sultanas DON’T digest. Neither does corn. The slider, the poo-plosion, we’ve all been there. Been caught attempting to clean up a squirming infant while trying not to make the mess worse, no change of clothes and baby covered from head to toe.

I’ve been there, done that, I’m still going through it. I feel your pain. In fact, its not uncommon to see me running down the hallway of our house to the bathroom with a poo covered Mr Giggles, arms outstretched in front of me, baby with a bewildered look on his face. The only way to fix the problem is hose him down. Unfortunately.

We are currently toilet training Hurricane Boy and for the majority of it, he is going well. He’s been going all day (mainly at pre-school) with only the occasional accident, and they usually occur because he’s caught up in some activity.

But I digress, let me set the scene…

Nursey Mum in Mr Giggles’ room, getting him dressed after his bath. Hurricane boy is still in the bath, Handy Hubby showering next to him.

I’m goo-ing and gah-ing at Mr Giggles, and in the background I hear Hurricane Boy say “Daddy, present”. Handy Hubby, face full of soap replies “Yeah bubba” and puts his hand out.

I then hear screams. From both of them. Both are calling my name. Mr Giggles goes into his cot, half dressed and I head into the bathroom. I find Hurricane Boy screaming, crying, having a melt down pointing to the bath water. Handy Hubby still in the shower, screaming, dry-retching and holding a Hurricane Boy sized turd.

I yank Hurricane Boy out of the bath, throw him on the potty, rescue the turd from Handy Hubby’s hand and fish out the aqua turd that Hurricane Boy left behind. All the while trying not to wet myself laughing.

Needless to say, Handy Hubby didn’t see the funny side. On the plus side, we had our one and only successful poo on the potty.

Have you had any toilet training drama?

Funny stories of poo?

These are a few of my favourite pins…

As previously mentioned, I’m a bit of a Pinterest nut. You can read all about it in here. So, to hopefully spread my insanity interest, on this Wordless Wednesday I thought I’d share some of my favourite pins.










Feel free to follow me on Pinterest here

Linking up with Trish at My Little Drummer Boys and Bree from Twinkle in the Eye for Wordless Wednesday



Explosive prams

Saturday Morning. I’ve just finished work. I’m exhausted, have just managed to get home from work without crashing my shiny new car. All I want to do is go to bed.

Handy Hubby suggests that we head down to his old primary school’s fete. Take the boys, tire them out and be home by about lunch time.

Even though I was dog tired, I gave in. I would normally only sleep for a few hours after my last night shift anyway. It would be good for the boys to get out of the house and Saturday was shaping up to being a lovely day!

After a quick shower, we pack the kids up and throw them in the car. We head on down to the fete. It’s busy, seems like everyone in the area has come to the fete. There are kids EVERYWHERE!

As always there’s the cake stands, the sausage sizzle and games stalls but this is a fete with a difference!

There’s carnival games, a huge slippery slide (you know the ones you need a hessian sack for?), a massive book stall, a cafe AND coffee van (Heaven!), 2nd hand clothes stall, fairy floss stall, hairdresser and stage for showcasing the local talent. Oh my!

It would’ve been a good day. Would have.

As soon as we walked into the school grounds, the front tyre on the pram explodes! Rendering the whole thing useless. We couldn’t keep using it without potentially doing more damage and Mr Giggles was freaking out every time we tried to push it because we had to lay the pram back and lift up the front wheel. Just what I need!

We manage to find a replacement tyre at a local baby store and head on out. Mean while my eyes are hanging out of my head and my mood is getting worse by the second. We eventually make it home, and I make it to bed for a few hours.

Not sure why the tyre exploded but I have a distinct feeling it had something to do with Handy Hubby being “helpful” and filling the tyres with air…

As always, linking up with Jess for #IBOT


Late night yummies…

Ladies (and gents), do I have the ultimate one serving sweet for you!

Ever get to that point of the night, kids and hubby are in bed, the house looks like a bomb has hit it, the dishes still need to be done and your hankering for a little bit of sweet?

Well hold onto your knickers for the Brownie in a Mug!

What you need:

1/4 cup plain flour
1/4 cup sugar
2 tbsp Cocoa powder
2 tbsp oil (any will do, although I’ve only ever used vegetable oil)
3 tbsp water
Pinch of Salt
1 Mug


Throw it all into your chosen mug. Mix well. It’ll look quite runny but that’s ok.

Chuck it in the microwave. “What?” I hear you say! “Surely not the microwave??!!”


Nuke that little sucker for 1 minute and 40 seconds.


Be careful! It’ll be hot! At this stage you can either choose to add a bit of icecream, cream or whatever! I like mine with a dollop of smooth Peanut Butter!