Monthly Archives: March 2013

The Hot Cross Buns Fiasco


The other day, my colleagues and I put on a morning tea for all the Teachers at school.


Morning tea at school is a big deal.  It’s taken in turn, by faculty.  One week Science, next week Maths and so on.  Put on a good morning tea and people will smile at you for the rest of the day, put on a bad one and it’ll be talked about for the next week.


Being Easter, my ten staff room members and I threw in ten bucks each.  One of the ladies put in an order up at Baker’s Delight.  We had Hot Cross Buns, butter, coffee and tea and of course, Easter Eggs.  The buffet looked like an Easter dream.  Lots of everything.




I was on playground duty during recess but from what I was told when I arrived, the staff had loved it.  It may have been the approaching long weekend but everyone seemed excited by such a generous and timely Easter morning tea.  Success.



Just before the end-of-recess bell rang, a colleague of mine who helped to organise the catering, suggested to the milling crowd that as there was lots left over, people should take some for lunch and for anyone who missed out.

It was a bad call.



People started swiping napkins full of buns, handfuls of eggs…

It was chaos.



My eyes darted around the room and I quickly located and marked a certain staff member who I shall call, “Eats Like a Horse but is Stick Thin”.  Known for eating much more than their fair share at every opportunity.

Every possible and free opportunity.


ELAHBIST made a break for the extra supplies, where I was standing.  In quite a loud teachery voice, I said that the full bags weren’t for the taking.

Take that!


ELAHBIST RAN back to the serving table to load up on buns…  They were quicker than me, older but more nimble. And more cunning! Somehow, they had pilfered one of the spare Baker’s Delight bags.  I’d been blindsided.



What ELAHBIST did next will go down in staff room folklore:





Who steals Hot Cross Buns?!




My staff room was in disbelief, then we were angry; there would be no Hot Cross Buns for us to take home and we’d paid for the bloody whole thing!



We were in shock for the rest of the day, so much so that we were compelled to declutter our tiny kitchenette for the first time in the five years I’ve been there.


Knee-deep in mismatched crockery we laughed to ease the Hot Cross Bun pain.


“Do you think ELAHBIST would want this?” a colleague announced, holding up a dirty, chipped coffee mug, circa 1980. “Or this?” A mug with someone else’s name on it.



Oh well. I hope ELAHBIST enjoyed their Hot Cross Buns today.

I hope they didn’t swallow any moldy bits.



I love hearing stories about office goings on.  One of my favourite shows is The Office.

Do you have any experiences with an office weirdo?



Happy Easter!


Robo X

Why I Love Guns.

At the risk of sounding like a trigger happy maniac, I’m putting it out there.
I love guns.
Don’t leave hate, hear me out.



Guns take me back to when I was a little girl. Not joking.


Back before the gun laws were in place, well before the tragedy of the Port Arthur Massacre in 1996…  In the very early 1980s, my father had guns. They were stored upright in the back of his wardrobe, behind the 1970s winter coats he couldn’t part with.


As kids, we’d sneak a peek sometimes. We’d show our friends when our parents were chatting over coffee. Although my dad stored his guns as safely as possible for the era, bolts removed and ammunition elsewhere, we knew never to touch them. We would only look.



In the mid-1980s I recall my brother spending hours on a year 8 assignment about his new rifle. A Benelli I think. He loved that gun. He stood on the front verandah while the 8mm camera whirred, engaging and disengaging the bolt and reading his speech off butcher’s paper, passionately explaining every feature of that gun.

Self-guided education can be  so powerful.



It’s no wonder that boy became an excellent educator himself – a teacher of visual arts, mainly photography and his students are engrossed in learning as he incorporates his love of the Australian bush into his lessons. He also became the most passionate hunter I will ever know.
I wish I could see that little film again and show his sons.

When my dad bought that Benelli rifle, guns featured more prominently in our home. A carpenter by trade, he crafted a beautiful wooden gun cabinet and mounted it front and centre on our living room wall. The living room. It was locked up but ironically it had a front glass panel…



They say you end up with partners who remind you of your father or brothers, so it’s no surprise that I also married a mad keen hunter and gun enthusiast. They usually find something to talk about.



My father handed in his firearms in the first major amnesty and my brother followed suit – bidding farewell to his much loved semi-automatic rifles among others. Between them, all of their remaining rifles are locked away in safes, as per the requirements of NSW law.

The world has changed.  My kids won’t get to show their friends shotguns in the back of the wardrobe.



Hunting and gun sports have received a bad wrap recently. It goes without saying that in the wrong hands, any weapon can be lethal. There is nothing worse than turning on the news and seeing yet another tragedy involving guns, unfold. With this, I have personal experience.



Yes.  It is very sad to see people interfere with our State Forests. Shooters, motocyclists, campers, 4WD enthusiasts, bush walkers and conservationists are some of the people who make this list. To my knowledge however, shooters are the only group in this list of users who register, obtain a license and book in to use our State Forests.  Despite the bureaucracy, these same registered, licensed, shooters are blamed most loudly, for leaving their foot print.


So where does it leave responsible registered hunters? The ones who operate in accordance with the law and dare I say, more importantly, in line with unwritten hunting etiquette. Where does it leave the experienced hunters who shoot, not just for the sake of shooting, but for honourable reasons. For conservation. Yes it’s a blood sport but the men I know hunt for good reasons.



Without delving into this argument further, it’s another blog post, a series of blog posts, I understand that we all have different opinions. But before forming your opinion, I urge you to do your own research. So many people get on the media bandwagon where nature or killing animals is concerned – they miss the whole other side to the argument.

And there are many sides to this argument.



But the point title of my post is Why I Love Guns. I went off on a tangent and I haven’t told you yet.


So why I love guns is this. For one whole long weekend over Easter My man disappears deep into the Australian scrub, with enough food and water to last a year. I am left behind to do WHATEVER I WANT for an entire weekend. Nails at Nhung, lazy shopping, dinner with a friend, an extra glass of wine, cheese on toast for dinner.
You get me?



My Man usually emerges come Sunday or Monday, masculinity rejuvenated, bubbling over with stories of the one that got away and photographs of the one that didn’t. Soon, in a few more years, Mr currently 4, will be joining his dad on these expeditions.


Until then, My Man will continue to captivate our son with his stories and instill in him the responsibility that gun ownership brings.

Hopefully we’re raising another generation of responsible hunters.


Hopefully there will be more blissful weekends.


Robo X

What am I doing here?


The Digital Parents Conference 2013 was, to date, the single most awesome experience of my blogging journey and anyone who considered going and didn’t, should really try to attend the next one.  Really.

It was nothing short of inspiring.





These are the awesome people I sat with most of the time:

Mummyhood101 – Jodi is the blogging buddy who took me under her wing.

Cup of Tea and a Blog – On day 2, Catherine BYO’d her tea.  She also had the blog balls to read her story.

Imogen’s Angels – If ever a passion was needed to blog…  Fiona also has a very deceptive pair of earrings which led me to believe that she was a vocal puncher of cones.

Mummy Manifesto – Lisa lost her voice at #DPCON13, but not on her blog!  She’s championing Perth.

Twitchy Corner – Sharon also had the blog balls to read her story.  Yet another brave woman.

Danya Banya – Danya brought her beautiful baby to #DPCON13.  Her lovely blog is all things craft and all things Mum.

Simple Loving Thoughts – What can I say?  You know that feeling you get when someone affirms that there are still good people in this world.

I also sat with Catherine, who is researching women bloggers. For her Ph.D. nonetheless!



The DP Conference was a big, meaty learning experience, with all the drippings.

As anticipated, I was so far out of my damn comfort zone…  But it was simply a matter of sinking from nervousness, or trying to swim.

I swam.  With floaties.



I went into the conference with a burning question.

What am I doing here?


I’m not nichey or crafty- I’m not a mummy extraordinaire.

I don’t cook for the thrill.  I’m not full of parenting advice.

I do not possess specialist expertise in anything, except getting through the day.

Nose to the grindstone, blinkers on, head down, going through the motions.




So what am I doing here, in the blogosphere?

I still don’t know.

And #DPCON13 taught me that it’s OK to not know.

And it’s OK to mix it up a little.



There aren’t really any rules to the way you wanna blog.

You just get your words out.



Robo X


Mixing it up with Essentially Jess for IBOT.  (So great to finally put faces to names!)

Officially freaking out for DPCon13!

I’m officially freaking out for DPCon13.



I’ve been working like mad woman; getting washing done, organising uniforms, lifts and lunches.  I’ve cleared out the toy area and I’ve packed away everything humanly possibly.  Tomorrow I’ll head into work and probably work like a mofo there too, preparing my classes and leaving lessons for the next two days.


The over-organising is a nervous reaction.

I’m scratching at my neck too – I think I’ve developed anxiety hives…




I’m not the type of person who deals well with meeting people for the first time.  I’m awesome in front of my classes at school but with other adults, I can lose it.  I’m not an introvert but for reasons unbeknownst to me, I become a tongue-tied mess – especially in situations like this.

I’m officially freaking out for DPCon13,mainly because I blog anonymously, which you can read about here . I seem to also have this underlying identity issue happening…  Gah!  I’m still working it all out…


And in all the panic, I completely forgot to organise cards.  Idiot.

But before this becomes an even MORE purposeless post, I’ll stop.

I’ll get myself over it somehow.



So if you spot a blotchy brunette scratching away in the corner, please say hi.


She’ll probably hand you some dodgy excuse for a business card and blurt out something that sounds wrong. Be patient, just quietly, she’s already shitting bricks


Are you, or were you a nervous newbie?




Posting for this week’s #IBOT


Robo X

The Biggest Treat

The other day, my blogging buddy Mrs D, from Mrs D’s Maunderings and my Twitter/Virtual Exercise buddy Super Slimming Mumma were having a

twitter conversation about being tired.


It went like this:

Robomum:  Robomum needs her batteries recharged. Help

SuperSlimmingMama:  some deep breathing … lock the door on your own little space. or coffee … lots of coffee

Robomum:  And sleep. Averaged 4 hours every night this week. I Need SLEEP.

Then Mrs D chimed in…
MrsD:  I’ve been similar but for weeks, bought heavy duty valerian tabs in hope they knock me out properly
SuperSlimmingMumma:oh blimey! I think a day spa for u 2 is on the cards! Then a hotel to sleep in peace!
MrsD:  That would be bliss at the moment.#onecandream
Robomum:   Sorry about your week… A hotel stay would be the biggest treat ever!

A hotel!  Now you’re talking!!


A freshly made bed.  Prepared food.  Clean folded towels.  A bath, without a toy in sight.  Uninterrupted, crap cable TV.  Wine.  A spot of shopping.  A little pamper – nails, eyebrows, facial, massage – not fussy.   A cleaning fairy.  Late lunch/early dinner with an equally deserving gal pal.




Whatever category we find ourselves in;  partner, mother of any description, full time employee, whether you stay at home, or like my case, whether you do both…


Every Good Woman Deserves Her Rest and a good hotel would be the BEST.


Have you done this?  Would you like to do this?  Care to throw one my way?


Linking up today with 30 year old Jess for #IBOT


Robo X

You can follow our Twitter drivel here:

@mrsdsmaundering @robomumblog @BusySuperMumma

Kyuss Lives. Mean anything to you?

The other week I went to a rock concert.


It was my first time at The Metro on George Street and I will say that it’s probably the best ever intimate venue I’ve experienced.

Being a Wednesday I knew I would struggle; around 7.30pm I’m usually putting kids to bed and dealing with a mountain of plates in the kitchen.


Not last Wednesday!


I was kid free, working on outfit choices and indulging in wine, before being picked up by My Man and driven to the city.



Walking through town at dusk brought back a series of memories I’d misplaced; hanging back after work for drinks, evening shopping trips, city bars and clubs until late – memories from another lifetime.


Heading out for fresh air was another forgotten experience.


The air was thick and heavy with the scent of herbage as I dodged the black shirt brotherhood to find a little brick wall to lean on.

It was a sight to behold.


Heavy metal dudes, stoner dudes, oldies, youngsters, women dressed up as glamorous goths, men in old t-shirts, clearly relics from concerts gone-by.

I stood there in my jeans and white t-shirt, feeling not one bit out of place; actually, feeling rather a part of a small, eclectic family.


Heading back inside for Kyuss, the main event, the crowd was happier somewhat, comfortable by now and ready to enjoy the show.


And it was a good show!


At this standing room only venue, I found a fine little seat to rest my weary legs.

My seat


And I had an uninterrupted vista of the crowd and the stage.  This band is Orange Goblin from the UK.



My Man was completely in his element.  Kyuss is his favourite band of all time so Kyuss Lives is an ‘important concert’.


I appreciated the music and looked on while inhibitions flew.

There’s nothing quite like live music.


Edited to include one of their best songs for Sunday Sessions.



Do you rock on?  Or are your tastes a little more subdued?


Robo X

Good Eggs?

On Sunday I was up at our local IGA.  I didn’t have time – it was 7.30pm and I was popping in to get the basics for the next few days of meals and lunches. Even though our local IGA is exy, it’s a better option to takeaways…

I digress.  Already…


Anyway, I was buying eggs because they’re involved in at least a couple of midweek meals when I stopped in my tracks…

I’d seen a battery hen scene in something I watched the night before and the shelf of egg options suddenly made me uncomfortable.


Quickly I scanned the carton prices…  They ranged from $2.50 through to $7.35


I looked for the words “Free Range” and two brands popped out.


Pirovic Family Farms and Pace Farm.


Pirovic Family Farms had a lovely image on the carton and words saying something like, ‘our hens get to roam the grounds by day but they sleep in a barn at night’.

The Pace Farm carton said that their hens got to roam free as well – but it made no mention of a barn to sleep in….


I was confused.


I bought the Pace Farm Eggs because frankly, the Pirovic description was a bit fluffy for my liking.



My parents keep chickens.  I would call them free range because their three chooks are kept in a very spacious and safe part in their yard, with a ‘barn’ that has its door left permanently open.  My Dad calls out their pet name, ‘Bibi’ and they scurry over to him for feed.



I thought about the ‘barn’ I had seen in the documentary and to say the least, it was not the red wooden, bale of hay and windmill kind of barn.



Later that night, I read this on the Pirovic website in relation to Barn Laid eggs:

“Barn-Laid (Cage Free) eggs are from hens that live in large barns and are not raised in cages, but on floor systems usually in an open barn. The hens on the floor have access to perches and nest boxes to lay their eggs. However, they may still be at close quarters with many other hens, just not in cages.”


Close quarters hey?


For me to stop my regular Sunday and Monday night television viewing to research chickens and eggs meant this issue struck a chord.

I kept researching…



I found a major body concerned with the eggs we eat:  The Australian Egg Corporation (AECL) – a producer owned company.

One of the Directors of this body is Frank Pace, of Pace Farm.



Upon doing a little more research I found that standards exist for these Free Range Farmers, that is how many chickens they can keep per hectare in their Free Range fields.  Standards.



Another item of interest I read on the Animal’s Australia website was this:

“AECL wants to increase this to allow a staggering 20,000 laying hens per hectare and to call eggs produced under these intense conditions ‘free range’,  to attract a premium price.”



Now, I’m not an alarmist, nor do I wish to upset or offend any of the organisations mentioned.  I don’t claim to be an expert in this area either.

I’m just a concerned citizen and a mum who thinks that the treatment of these fateful animals should be on our moral responsibility radar.



Pace Farm and Pirovic Family Farms, your marketing looks great, and from what you say, your chooks seem happy but…




I want to know that Free Range is as Free Range sounds.




Robo X


Pace Farm and Pirovic Family Farms do not seem to be on Twitter so in fairness, I will email them a link to my post.  I will also tweet this to Animals Australia.


Hooking up today with #IBOT