Marry me, Elaine

Rest assured you weary-hearted people out there, romance is still alive. While Henry and I were taking a stroll this morning and enjoying the first sunny day we’ve had in a week, I spotted some skywriting that was bound to make a few Melbourne men anxious. It took a while, but eventually ‘Marry me, Elaine, I ♥ u’ was written across the blue - I sure hope Elaine didn’t miss it. I bet there are some chaps out there who want to shoot the mystery man for such a grand gesture, as every romantic lass yearns for their own Romeo to dish out a showstopper like that. Guys should realise one skywriting proposal would get a lifetime's worth of romance out of the way in one hit, you could never be made to feel guilty again for forgetting Valentine's Day.  Just out of interest I investigated what it costs to get your proposal lifted up there where love belongs, and it will set you back about $4500… It’s pretty steep, but I reckon you’d guarantee yourself a ‘Yes’ with that level of effort. Who knows, maybe Elaine will respond via the sky as well: ‘Sorry John, I’ve met someone else…’

Caramel apple self-saucing pud

I found this recipe in a mag and tried it out last night – it was super easy and delicious, which suited me as I’ve never cooked a pudding before. It looks freaky when it goes in (like a dish full of sloppy water) but trust the recipe and go forth to create your pudding delight.

This yummy little number was the perfect way to celebrate the end of a ‘crappy’ week in which Henry and I both came down with a bad case of gastro. When your house befalls a dreaded plague you're reminded there's no such thing as a sick day when you’re a parent, but also how unimportant everything else is compared to whether your little person is happy and healthy.  Thank goodness Henry is eating like a sizeable horse again and life can get back to some sort of normality. I hope you’re all surviving winter - eat lots of pudding, it’s medicinal!

Caramel apple self-saucing pudding

Self-raising flour 1¼ cups

Brown sugar ¼ cup, plus ½ cup extra

Butter 100g melted

Egg 1, lightly beaten

Milk ½ cup

Golden syrup ½ cup

Pie apple chopped ½ cup (I used a can of apples)

Boiling water 2 cups

Vanilla ice cream to serve

1. Preheat oven to moderate, 180°C. Lightly grease 6-cup ovenproof dish.
2. In a large bowl, combine flour and sugar. Add combined butter, egg, milk, half golden syrup and apple, stirring well. Spoon into dish.
3. Sprinkle extra sugar over pudding. In a jug, combine boiling water with remaining golden syrup.  Pour over the top of the pudding mixture.
4. Bake 40 – 45 minutes, until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. Serve with big dollops of vanilla ice cream.

Mum vs Toddler

Since parenthood I’ve picked up the annoying habit of speaking about myself in the third person: “Mummy would like you to stop biting her… Mummy would like to do poos on her own please… Mummy’s had a very long day and needs a big bottle of wine…” I am comforted by referring to myself as Mummy; perhaps it gives my desperate pleas some extra weight. “Please don’t kick Mummy in the face” does sound more authoritative then simply begging “Don’t hurt meeeeeee”.

It’s true that when you have a toddler you get beaten up. I don’t know if it’s the same for boys and girls, but little boys are bundles of wild, thrashing strength.  I fight back with love and patience when I can, but much like anyone who’s travelled the road of passive resistance before me; it takes a bloody long time to get anywhere. I am just waiting for the gleaming ‘pre-school’ age I’ve been reading about, apparently it’s when toddlers finally mature and love nothing more than to smother you with kisses, and to behave sweetly and compliantly in their desperation for your approval.

Another toddler battle we’re facing at the moment is whinging; I swear it could be used at Guantanamo as an effective form of torture. Those prisoners would confess to anything if they had to endure small children half crying for extended periods across a 12 hour day. Today’s strategy is to ignore the whine, apparently he will give it up when he realises it will get him nowhere. If it doesn’t work, I might opt to have my eardrums removed.

I’m also aware my toddler tyrant might be in need of some more freedom. I know he wants out of pram prison so we are starting short walks without it and so far it’s going pretty good. There’s been no high speed escapes onto the road yet, and even if he does try to go into every single gate that’s open,  it is pretty cute seeing how much he enjoys giving me a tour of the neighbourhood.  

This week it came to me that if Henry becomes a rapper; his name could be Biggie Poos. In the documentary mapping his meteoric rise to fame, we can talk about how he earned his name back in the toddler years when his bedraggled mother might have to tackle 4 – 5 chocolate explosions a day. A legend they’ll say, thank god for Mothers.

I’ve had a bit of a creative outburst recently, and have finished the first collage I’ve put together in a while. I hope you like it. Stay warm.

Mel