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Miss Princess and the case of the brown paper bag

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Miss Princess has been a little “challenging” of late. Or should I say a little more “challenging” than usual.

It seems that her usual temper tantrums and cranky moods have, well, cranked up a notch or seven. I thought that as she closed in on turning four things might settle down a little. I was oh so VERY wrong.

For the record we’ve no idea where this hot temper comes from, she can’t blame it on a horrid babyhood.

This child hung out in a sling until she was 14 months old, co-slept from birth until she slept through at two and a half and was breastfed to the age of three. Nothing to complain about there.

We’re blaming a genetic throwback…though I do suspect it’s more a genetic combination issue.

It’s cranky pants central at Oopsiemumma headquarters on Monday’s when big brother gets to go to school but she doesn’t. And all hell breaks loose after her Monday mid-morning gymnastics lesson because she doesn’t want to leave.

And Friday’s…well let me just say that every second Friday when kindy isn’t on, I start reaching for the wine bottle before 2pm. Totally acceptable to do that on a Friday I believe.

The meltdowns and tantrums reached fever pitch today, by the time I got home from school pick-up I was ready to run away from home.

So Mr Fix-It stepped in. I’m not sure whether it was to save my sanity or to save Miss Princess from me, but either way it worked.

He taught her to breathe.

Five deep breaths every time she got angry.

And it worked.

By the time bedtime rolled around she was deep breathing so much that I thought I’d need to get her a brown paper bag. I actually thought she was going to hyperventilate.

Let’s hope for some more deep breathing in the morning when she realises it’s the weekend and kindy still isn’t on!

Do you have a temper tantrum calming technique?

Oopsiemumma xo


Miss Princess is a tantrum champion with a LARGE repertoire!

Here in the Oopsiemumma Household we like to do things a little differently and defy the odds. So, instead of our munchkins going through the Terrible Two’s, they decided to sail through two and then turn it on when they turned three.

I’m calling it the “Threatening Three’s.” This is the age in Oopsiemumma land that threatens my sanity, my patience, my resilience and my ability to not throw a tantrum myself.

I have to give it to Master Sporty, he wasn’t very good at the whole throw a tantrum thing, he clearly didn’t get given the toddler handbook. His idea of a tantrum was to take himself to his room and either read a book or throw himself on his bed and lay there…what a monster he was! If monster’s like to read books and lay still……

Miss Princess, on the other hand, has us cracking open all the parenting help books known to mankind. The one I’m about to crack open this week is the “Strong-willed child”. I think the title should be more along the lines of “How not to lose it in public when dealing with a strong-willed child.” Now THAT would be much more helpful.

But all these tantrums and shenanigans that Miss Princess carries on with have made me realise that not only did Master Sporty fail on the tantrum front, but there are a whole host of tantrums I never realised existed. Here are some of Miss Princess’s favourites:-

  • “Screaming vomiter” – this one is awesome and yet quite simple. You scream and scream and scream and scream until you start projectile vomiting EVERYWHERE. Then you stop…and then you scream some more.
  • “Urinator” – when mummy and daddy refuse to give in then you stand still and defiantly wee all down your legs, regardless of where you are. Little tip though, it’s much more effective inside than outside the house, and particularly fun in shopping centres.
  • “Neverending Story” – this is where the tantrum n.e.v.e.r seems to end. Coupled with the “Public performer” and the “Floor writher” it can be quite an awesome event to watch.
  • “Floor writher” – most effective in shopping centres where it’s harder for mummy and daddy to bend down and pick you up without showing their underwear (mummy needs to learn not to wear tight jeans to shopping centres).
  • “Sibling slammer” – want a quick reaction from mummy and daddy? The most effective technique is while throwing a tantrum you kick, hit, pinch, bite or jump on your sibling…then watch how quickly you get a reaction. Quite a good one!
  • “Wall smacker” – this one is quite self-explanatory though will cause some pain if mum and dad take the attitude that ‘she’ll stop it when it hurts’. Ouch.
  • “Car seat kicker” – guaranteed to get mummy cranky when feeling like some attention. Just kick, kick, kick and kick until she threatens to take away your dolls. Then it’s probably a good idea to stop and start on the “sibling slammer” for fun.
  • “Toy tosser” – particularly effective when in the car. Bonus points if you actually hit mummy in the head.
  • “Lounge collapser” – save this one for when you’re too tired to actually throw a tantrum. Just throw yourself on the lounge and cry. Usually causes more giggles than sympathy from the grown-ups.
  • “Door slammer” – couple this with a well-timed scream and mummy and daddy come running thinking your fingers are toast.
  • “Public performer” – still working on this one because mummy tends to walk off and pretend she doesn’t know me. But when done with the “Urinator” or the “Screaming Vomiter” she has no choice but to come and get me 🙂

It’s no wonder I’m exhausted most days when I have to deal with at least one or two from the above list. And I may or may not be counting down until Miss Princess trundles off to kindergarten next year, where for two days of the week the above list is NOT MY PROBLEM.

No doubt thought that she’ll be an angelic angel at kindy…

Do you have any tantrum’s to add? If so, then I can assure you that your little one and Miss Princess will never meet, she has a large enough repertoire all on her own.

Oopsiemumma xo

Favourite Photo Friday – A splash of paint

Miss Princess LOVES to paint….herself.

A smile for the camera.

Now back to the serious business of painting her hand with one of her favourite colours.

And then one last smile for the camera as she does what she loves to do most.

For the record, the mess that painting makes absolutely kills me.


Miss Princess has a very strange attachment

Click on image for credit details.

When I decided it was time to wean Miss Princess back in January (read here), a part of my brain managed to actually function and realise that she might need something else to replace her bedtime comfort.

Her previous bedtime comfort being a feed to sleep.

So I conjured up all of my parenting wisdom and randomly gave her some of her favourite dolls, teddy bears and blankies each night as we got ready for bed time.

And she wasn’t picky, each night she would choose a different toy to cuddle and each night she’d eventually find the land of nod…with me in bed with her of course *sigh*.

I have to admit I was pretty happy with myself.

I thought “this is great, I’m clearly such an awesome mummy that I’ve produced a well-adjusted toddler that  doesn’t need one special toy to go to bed with. She’s happy just having a little snuggle (yes I see the irony here) and off to the land of nod she goes. Well done me!”

I thought maybe I could write a book about how to provide such awesome mumminess (yes, I’m sure it’s a word…in some part of the world), that your little toddler could simply transition from breastfeeding to sleep one day, to snuggling to sleep the next.

Then it happened.

I can’t really pinpoint exactly when it happened, or exactly how it happened but it definitely happened.

Miss Princess became well and truly attached…to me.

Not to my cuddles and kisses or my awesome night-time singing but actually to a part of my body…my mole.


I have several moles so maybe I should be more specific. She became attached to a little raised mole on my breast (too much information? Apologies).

She is now so attached to this mole that she has named it “Moley”, kisses it before going to sleep every single night and must have her hand on Moley before she can possibly enter the land of nod.

Don’t ask what I’m going to do if that mole ever has to be removed, let’s hope she outgrows it before then.

Have any of your children had weird attachments like Moley?

Oopsiemumma   xo

Crimes against hair or “Hello, Stefan?”

A crime was committed here yesterday.

A crime against hair.

A crime that is going to force us to move to the Western Suburbs, buy ugg-boots and have a piece of straw dangling out of our mouths all day long.

Below is Exhibit A (otherwise known as Miss Princess). This is what Miss Princess looked like a few days ago.


Below is Exhibit B (also Miss Princess). This is what Miss Princess looked like after Master Sporty mistook himself for ‘Stefan the God of Hair’, and took to her with a pair of scissors. This is what is aptly referred to as the “Mullet” hairstyle – very trendy in the 80s…not so much in the 21st Century.

EXHIBIT B - she's smiling because she's no idea how much has been chopped off and she always smiles for the camera. She wasn't smiling so much half an hour later 😦

Why did he do such a thing I hear you ask?

Well apparently Exhibit C (otherwise known as a bubble blowing gun) got stuck in her hair. It’s under dispute exactly who got it stuck in her hair.


So Master Sporty decided, in his infinite wisdom, to take it upon himself to free the Princess from her captor with Exhibit D (yes they are a rather large pair of scissors now safely locked in our newly locked study).


For the record, while all of this chop-chop was happening I was cleaning up the kitchen and yelled out to Mr Fix-It how lovely it was that they were playing together so nicely in the cubby house. Yes I know now how insanely misguided that was.

Exhibit E is what the very teary Miss Princess looks like after my wonderful hairdresser friend, let’s call her Cherie (because that’s her real name), worked some magic.


After a few tears (from me) and a few tantrums (from me), I’m now choosing to look on the plus side:

  • no more chasing her around with a hair brush to get the knots out
  • no more doing her hair in a  ponytail only to have her pull it out before we get to our destination
  • no more need for swimming caps
  • no more hairdressing appointments needed for another six years
  • no need to buy hairbands
  • a much reduced chance of head lice when she starts kindy next year.
And what was Master Sporty’s punishment? He had to pay for her haircut and has lost access to everything electronic for 30 days.

Have your kids every played hairdressers…for real?

Oopsiemumma xo

An era ends, Miss Princess is not too impressed

It’s the end of an era in the Oopsiemumma household. My second and youngest child, Miss Princess, has been finally weaned from her total obsession with my milky boobs.

If extended breastfeeding or boobs in general FREAK you out then you have my permission to go and check out someone else’s blog today. But I have a story and it must be told.

I’ve been very lucky to never have an issue with breastfeeding, I had a few little hiccups at the beginning with both kiddies but once they got the hang of it everything went quite smoothly.

Master Sporty is what you would call….stubborn…very very stubborn.

So it was no great surprise that when he bit me while feeding at 9 months old and I told him “No” three times getting a little louder with each “No” he decided to hate me for it and wouldn’t let me hold him or feed him booby milk.

At some ungodly hour on the morning of day five I tried to feed him once more. But he was adamant that he would never touch my boob again (I say my boob because I’m quite sure he will touch other boobs again!) and I was resigned to our trip to hospital the next morning as he was well on his way to dehydration and too stubborn to drink much water or eat much food.

In the wee hours of the morning I shoved a bottle in his mouth for the upteenth time and he FINALLY caved in and took it and was bottle fed for the next three months.

Miss Princess on the other hand is a breastfeeding monster. At the age of 2 years and 10 months I’ve just managed to wean her but I’m absolutely certain that if I didn’t instigate it she definitely wouldn’t.

It probably didn’t help that for the last 12 months I haven’t allowed her to feed during the day, only for her daytime nap and bedtime…so I created one heck of a sleep association for the little one. An association that she told me in no uncertain terms that she would never ever give up.

It did make me laugh when we were saying our little nighttime prayer which goes something like this:

“Dear God, thank-you for this day

Thank-you for our fun and play

Thank-you for Mummy and Daddy, Ethan and Chloe”

And Miss Princess finished off with “Thank-you for booby!”

See what I was up against here?

I never thought I’d breastfeed past 12 months of age. Then her first birthday came and went and we were heading to the age of two. The World Health Organisation was rooting for me to reach two so I ended up being ok with that.

Then her second birthday came and went and we were heading to the age of three. I read somewhere that Jesus was breastfed to the age of three and thought well what’s good enough for him is good enough for Miss Princess.

Then I looked at my poor boobs, and getting to the age of three suddenly seemed like it would end up costing me a $10,000 boob job. Best to wean now said Mr Fix-It.

Going cold turkey wasn’t going to work with Miss Princess (I tried it), telling her she was too old didn’t work, saying I was too sick didn’t work, trying to convince her the milk had run out didn’t work – this child is not stupid!

What did work, was a plan deployed with military like precision.

Yesterday Mr Fix-It called the kiddies into their respective rooms to be measured on their height charts, certain they had grown. Unfortunately for Master Sporty he had not (he was pretty annoyed about that too) but Miss Princess had grown significantly.

Then came all the warnings to Miss Princess that once you grow that much that booby milk starts to taste yucky. She eyed us suspiciously and was in the non-believing camp.

Then came a little trick my mum used to wean my siblings from bottle feeding. I put a little dab of Sally Hansen “No biters” nail polish on my boob last night and voila. “Mummy that tastes yucky!”

Followed by my “Oh does it? That must mean you’ve grown so much that you don’t need mummy’s milk anymore.”

Followed by a very very sad face that almost made me crumble.

But she accepted it for what it was, (that polish truly does taste AWFUL) and my last little bubba has been successfully weaned.

I say my last bubba with absolute certainty because during my pregnancy and her birth my uterus tried to kill me. But that’s another story for another day….maybe.

Do you have any weaning tips that worked for you?

Oopsiemumma xo

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