It’s All A Bit Nitty

January 30, 2015 by Vicki

Let me tell you people, an itchy neck and head is NOT a symptom of pregnancy. No. Not everything can be blamed on the knocked up-ness.

An overwhelming itchy scalp so bad it causes one a sleepless night, two in fact, could be nothing else but a symptom of…… NITS! (You knew that right?)

And my, how they loved me this week. They took up residence in my fine ginger locks and I can see why. It was a good choice on their behalf but flip, really???

When I paid a little more attention, I realised Little Vick had been a bit scratchy too. The lot of us were.

After a Dr Google diagnosis, which can I just say, never Google images of nits unless you’re prepared to have horrendous nightmares forever, I rang my sister in a state of mortification. She is a veteran at this parenting gig. She has two teenage daughters so yep, she knows survival. She empathised in the form of smothering giggles and felt even less sorry for me when I exclaimed that I was a virgin nits victim. It was quite shocking to her that I had never had nits as a child. Apparently, EVERYONE gets nits as a child. Not so folks. It’s taken me to become a mother to suffer a case of nits.

THE KIDS are the culprits here. Why do they insist on dragging such vile, stalker like critters into my space? Right onto my head? I’ve virtually been swallowing them! I couldn’t help but go on a cleaning rampage despite all the clear explanations that contracting nits has nothing to do with hygiene or cleanliness. I know this but to the youthful chemist assistant who exercised a foul, judgmental attitude (people who get nits must be scum) and took three large steps back from my obviously filthy, infected self when I asked for a nit comb, yeah, may you be fully infected with blood thirsty nits contracted just by the thin air between us yesterday. Even better, let them be discovered by your new lover next time you try and get down and diggy. I should have told her it was only three weeks ago that we had to do a treatment for worms too, and that maybe, just maybe ‘cos she breathed the same air as me, she might get an itchy bum over night too.

Nits and worms in less than one month. That’s some seriously bad parenting karma right there. WHY???? Surely that’s my dose for 2015. I’m done with the ugly stuff.

Admittedly, all this parenting glamor of recent has certainly brought me right back to a lower parenting reality. This shit happens to good, clean, people. Kids are kids and will get these infestations of vile rankness. Even mine. What a blow.

The one bonus from all of this, I have the most glowing, smooth, stunning knock-your-frickin’-socks-off-locks you’ve ever seen thanks to the old fashioned conditioner trick (flood conditioner into hair, apply a glad wrap turban, wait and hour or two and comb out with nit comb). Really I’ve just had an intense treatment and I should thank the nits for enforcing the self care and for creating such a transformation. I’m currently awaiting my contract for a Pantene ad.




 Have you had nits? Did they come back again ?

Did you try the old conditioner trick?


January 25, 2015 by Vicki

Do you remember a couple of weeks back I made some wild declaration about committing to the 52 week project? This involves taking a photo of each Vicklet, each week, every week throughout 2015.

Yes, each week being the point. I clearly, ALREADY, suck at this challenge! I missed last week and the week before that was a half hearted effort! In my defense, I am pregnant. Yep, I’m going to pull that old card out. See, I put my camera charger in a “safe place” and in fact it was so safe, I can’t actually recall where it is. Preggo brain at force here. So with no functional DSLR I’ve wagged the 52 week project until it dawned on me, der, I have an iPhone camera and as shonky as they can be, it can still snap up a storm and keep me in the game. So I’m back.

Little Vick dished up a dose of the spunkeroonies this week. I find that one of the Vicklets is always the star each week in terms of photographic brilliance. This week was Little Vick’s turn.

Man, I love a white wall, a bold hat and a generous grin!

banjo 4 years

Banjo 4

Little Vick is all about the cricket. Talk about being an Aussie boy. Most days, I have not been out of bed for more than three and a half minutes and he is asking for the first gamet. The nagging lasts day long and think not that it will be a game of lesser skill because of his size. No, the little rascal bowls me out EACH TIME! I am already imagining all the sports committees I’m going to be obligated to.

Flynn 19 months

Light switches are pretty cool to Baby Vick right now. He demands I give him a booster so he can reach the switch which turns the magic light on. It’s so heartening to watch him discover all the marvelous, marvelous things that us adults no longer pay heed to. Discovery is a wonderful thing to witness.

You can catch more portraits over at Practicing Simplicity.

52 projectDid you miss a post last week on Knocked Up & Abroad?

The Vick Chicks

Baby Mango

Baby Mango

January 22, 2015 by Vicki

baby no. 3 - 19 weeks

Earlier reports of a parasite imbedding itself into my uterus (read it here) can now be confirmed as false. There is definitely a human baby living and growing inside of my body.

Or a mango, if you choose to believe it.

Little Vick is being an upstanding big brother to be and is demonstrating great interest in the growing bambino. Every few days he asks to check the pregnancy app on my phone to find out what size the baby is. Cutely, it translates it for the little people by likening the size to a fruit. This week our baby is the size of a mango.

The 19 week ultra sound yesterday went swimmingly. Baby is happy if not slightly cranky about the rude prod and jab it received for the sake of having it’s photo taken. I was a tad excited to take this photo home to show off to Little Vick.

Little Vick looked slightly confused at the image of the baby. When I pointed out the shape of the head and asked what he thought it was, he clarified with confidence, it was a mango.

Oh the cuteness.

So, first Little Vick fondly named his brother (Baby Vick) Shrek whilst womb warming and now, there is Mango.

I’m still trying to decide on a Vick styled blog name for our baby Mango, any ideas for me?

The Vick Chicks

January 20, 2015 by Vicki

I have new family members that I haven’t introduced you to yet.

They landed in my lounge room two days before Christmas. I’d sneaked off, Vicklet free, to do a bit “Christmas shopping” which, clearly, means I went op shopping and did a spot of luncheon with girlfriends, only to come home to six tiny fluff balls needing a mother.

baby Vick Chicks

Shit me. I was floored. I can never see this stuff coming. I leave Mr Vick home in charge and I come home to six chickens in my suburban lounge room?? I was flabbergasted. I mean, we’d always romantised about having chickens, but we also have a dog who is fond of rounding stuff up and looks very hungry AND a backyard approximately 4 square meters wide. Chickens weren’t really on my radar. I was kinda hoping for a Better Homes and Gardens styled country house to go with the chickens too, if you’re gettin’ my drift?

… but Merry Christmas! The Vick chicks were ours. They were two days old and living under a make shift lamp for warmth. They were safe guarded by a play pen. I was fairly sure that either the dog or even worse, guts-squashing-Baby Vick would get them. If they survived it would be a mighty miracle. I was scared for them. Way scared.

They had a stint living in our bath but eventually the kids needed to use it for it’s intended purpose, so they moved to the laundry until they grew out of their plastic crate. Here they graduated from bassinet to cot.

Mr Vick and Little Vick dedicated an entire day to the making of the chicken pen. It was a massive manly affair. From morning to dark they were banging and cutting and acting all handy for the love of the Vick chicks.

Untitled design(7)

The first night they spent outside in their new home, I was on edge. I fretted a bit just like when I put the Vicklets as newborns in their own room for the first time. Would they be okay? Would they be warm enough? Would they get scared of foreign noises? Would I hear them if they called out? Get. A. Grip. Woman.

Despite my head playing crazies on me with worry, they survived and they keep surviving. They do all the expected chicken-ly things. They eat and tweet and scratch and we cuddle them and watch them totally enthralled by their compelling cuteness. We’ve teamed together to care for them and it has taught the Vicklets about the important stuff like chores and how to nurture another living thing besides themselves. The Vick chicks have definitely bought something lovely to the house.

Vick Chicks pen

{The new pen, unfinished, but having a road test}

Little Vick has named them all himself with some rather celebrity styled names. The six are: Salty, Twinkle Toes, Viking, Groovy, Crocodile and … Celery Goods. Celery Goods, I think it’s got a very Hollywood tone to it don’t you?

Now they’re big and kinda ugly. I think they’re in the scruffy and awkward teenager stage.

Vick Chicks

We’ve been praying for hens. HENS! HENS! PLEAAAASE! What do you think the chances are of more hens than cocks? Because we certainly don’t need anymore cocks in this house (sorry couldn’t resist an opportunity to be distasteful). The day any of them start crowing is they day they will have to vacate to my parentals farm. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Despite being a chicken eater, I’ve made a strong statement about the fact that I will not be eating these chickens.

Mr Vick says that when I’m with the chicks, I am in one of my happy places. I found that surprising upon mention but I think he is proving again just how well he knows me. When I’m with them, I can feel a small pocket of my childhood on the farm where I spent hours laying in the grass watching and petting chicks that I’d seen hatch right out of the eggs. The simplicity of those moments, so rare and pure. I do feel at peace when I recall those memories and there’s a joy knowing that we are bringing, hopefully, treasured moments into our children’s lives like this.

Vick Chicks 2

Have you ever had the joy of raising a pet?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT

The Tassie Mummy Escape

January 13, 2015 by Vicki

The Tassie mummy escape happened. A little too speedy for my liking. Damn that double speed that happens with the good stuff.

Last week I wrote about my great anticipation of the big relax (you can read it here). Did it all live up to expectation? Read on.

After a brief flight from Melbourne to Launceston, which I disappointingly only got to read approximately five pages of my book due to the lack of air time, we picked up our hire car and my side kick and I and headed out of Launceston towards Penguin, our exotic Tassie destination. The trip started off with a typical dose of over excitement. Exclamations like “ohhhhh look! It’s a meadow with cows in it” could be heard and naturally we were in Tassie for no longer than an hour and we had found ourselves at a chocolate factory (House of Anvers). Two woman, one pregnant and the other possibly frightened to deny the pregnant one, was there ever going to be any other way?

Unbeknownst to us we had found ourselves traveling along The Cradle to Coast Tasting Trail. This means there are an exorbitant amount of farms enticing the vulnerable (the pregnant and the eat happy tourist) in to gorge themselves on irresistible home grown/made produce. Think raspberry farms, salmon farms, cheese farms, wineries etc. I could have died and gone to plump foodie heaven. What’s a holiday without putting on 5 kg?

Eventually, with full bellies we arrived in Penguin. A coastal town with a population of approximately 83 + 1 over sized penguin. But boyo, what a pleasing sight it provided.


{The view from our balcony + a whopping 17 week bump}


{2 penguins hand in hand}

The towns welcome sign says “Penguin: The sound of the waves” and I have to say with it’s lack of buzz and activity you can actually hear the waves in your tracks which inevitably lulls you into a coma of seaside relaxation.


What followed was more eating, beachy times, cafe visits, celebrating love and enjoying each others company. I think these are my most favorite things in the world.

1-DSC_1368{I got my undisturbed cafe time}


{I watched on with my glass of pink fizz}

Of course with the opportunity to sleep in, my body woke me up at 5.45am both mornings. Nice form body clock! I did snooze and found zoning out just to the rhythm of my own (slow) thoughts more peaceful and restful than I ever remember pre-Vicklets. Being away made it crystal clear just how much work my Vicklets are and how much they inhibit and consume me for many long hours in a repetitive pattern day in and day out. No wonder I was drained of life. This little Tassie mummy escape made me see what I do is pretty frickin’ extraordinary and I will go easier on myself. For now anyway.

Seeing one of my besties get married sure was sweet and emotional and beautiful.

1-DSC_1350The day was a little harder than I expected. It was the day I pined for my posse of Vicks. For the most part I rocked pretending I was a single digit but on the wedding day, I was a little lost. By mid reception my heart felt heavy as other children ran about and looked coincidentally very similar to my Vicklets. Those little two little punks who I so desperately wanted to escape and catch my breath from, had burrowed their way into my heart deeper than I had anticipated.


We would have all traveled together, we always intended to but as the wedding date neared it became obvious our student & SAHM lifestyle couldn’t bear the cost. It was a big blow for us yes types. Definitely a sobering, grown up moment that sucked but I had to focus on the positive: mummy escape.

1-DSC_13991-DSC_15771-DSC_1679 - Copy1-DSC_1715

I adored practicing the art of adult conversation and just being in the presence of my sometimes neglected friends. The connections and raucous laughter was so healing. When I’m with them I am in one of my happy places.

All too soon this precious time came to an end and of course on our way back to airport we sighed saying how just one more night would have been perfect. One more night to just read, or lay about to really deeply recharge but how could I not be grateful for the time I’d had?

It had been so beautiful and I came home with a much healthier zen in tact.

I wonder how Mr Vick would take my suggestion of making the mummy escape a monthly thing?


Today I’m linking up with #IBOT over at Essentially Jess

How do you charge up your zen?


January 12, 2015 by Vicki

{A portrait photo once a week, every week,  for 52 weeks}

I’m a day late with this weeks photo but I was gallivanting Tassie and taking a ridiculous amount of selfies and wedding shenanigan shots instead of little Vicklet faces.

For the most part of my weekend I was trying not to think about the Vicklets, who I’d left behind.  I was pretending to not be a parent and I was pretty alright at it I have to say, until, this photo arrived on my phone courtesy of Mr Vick. It’s just an Iphone snap, nothing fancy photographically but the cuteness nearly killed me. It tugged on my mummy heart strings who were secretly pining anyway. I momentarily became that woman in a social situation without her children showing everyone a photo of them and gushing just a little too much.


How’s that smile on Baby Vick? So smug and deliriously happy because when his mum is home he isn’t allowed to go scooting using 3 year old gear. As far as I knew, he couldn’t even stand up on it!

52 project



Bustin’ A Move To Burnie

January 8, 2015 by Vicki


Let this week be known as the-week-Vicki-escaped-the-house-without-children-and-fled-interstate-with-the-bump-week! Yep, I am headed for far away lands for an entire two nights WITHOUT THE VICKLETS. Albeit, that far away land is Burnie in Tasmania but it still will seem very far away and very exotic. A trip half an hour up the road to Werribee would make me happy so Burnie will be just fabulous.

Thank you to my bestie for providing the reason – her wedding. A solid excuse where no questions were asked about my need to jump, hop and skip my way onto a plane.

The last time I got away for a weekender alone was before Baby Vick was born and since then that kid has dried me out. Rung me squeaky clean of rest, so this is needed.

Leaving three Vick boys behind… can you imagine it? Can you imagine what I will come home to? Let me not think of that now. I will just focus of all the space and the ability to think, THINK! That’s what happens without a four year old interrupting the open air with his insistent chatter about NOTHING, on repeat. Four year olds, they could chew the ear of a donkey could they not??? The yapping follows me everywhere. I have to ask the kid to quit sometimes so I can just think through the most simplest of tasks.


{Flying solo means I won't be pushing this}

I also am thrilled at the idea of not needing four eyes in my head to spy that deviant, trot-a-lot Vick – otherwise known as Baby Vick. I will be able to sit in a cafe. SIT. Not bolt off at the speed of light because Baby Vick has made a sprint for the road, or because he is smooching a dirty, mongrel looking mut, or throwing food at our neighbors. I will sit and act like a NORMAL person, whatever that is. Conversations will be had, eating in one go will be possible and pretending to read the newspaper will happen. Yip, yip!

Let all the rest and relaxation come right at me. I need it to seep it into every single pore and drink it till I’m intoxicated with R & R. I know this my chance. My ONLY chance prior to Vicklet three arrives.

I know I won’t really get much more sleep. Preggie insomnia is kicking my butt right now. It’s really peeving me and I surely don’t recall how to sleep in, but I might just lay there. Lay there and wake at my own accord rather than getting cried at or tapped on the face and hold up, I might even read a book. That book that I’ve intended to start 63 months ago.

Was it really only last week that I moped about a seaside town and felt seriously sad because of all the people looking delightfully dazed because of all their relaxation and leisurely freedom and not being dictated to by little people. It was a shit of a parenting day that one but I seriously thought that I would never get to be in holiday mode ever again and then, here I am packing ready for departure. Two days is not the two months that I feel I need but it’s sure better than diddly squat.

Sure, I won’t be able to join the rest of the guests and tuck into the bubbles but I will, I repeat, I will carve up the dance floor just as good as any of them. It should be said, I also have a wickedly stunning frock. Albeit, a maternity one but it’s slick. Real slick. It’s as sexy as maternity gets. I’m kicking the buts of those frightful, down right woeful maternity designing Gods. Stay tuned.

Most mothers would feel slightly sad, or worried, or hesitant about leaving their post. It’s clear I’m not one of those but I do know that precisely three hours after I’ve left I will need to call just to hear their voices. After one night, I will start to wonder how they slept, hope that their Dad didn’t sleep through their call outs, fed them even. By the end of the second day I will need a Vicklet squeeze. Addictive things them.

But for now, I’ll quit my insistent bragging and I’ll be off with a heart full of freedom and adventure as if I were a backpacker again conquering Europe. Tassie and my carry on luggage will do me just fine for now.


Do you get away for weekend breathers?

Where do you like to go for a weekend break?

Summer Holiday Mode

January 6, 2015 by Vicki

Summer feels like it has well and truly blown in now with it’s glorious balmy breeze and golden rays which are not shy most days.

Summer days 4

Mr Vick returned back to school this morning after a couple of weeks off, so life is trying to steer us back into routine but Summer is just so good I’m going to resist. For the passed two weeks we have celebrated and savored Summer. There has been a magic, slower pace which can only come post Christmas madness. It’s a reflective slowness which sits nicely.

It’s been about wearing loose t shirts and the soles of our feet turning brown from being continuously bare. Letting the kids eat more than the recommended quota of icy poles. Frolicking in grassy places. Water – always water being splashed, poured, thrown. Sneaky siestas, even if our eyes do fight to stay open.

Summer days

Day excursions together to new places. Games of cricket, some mimed in the lounge room. A guarantee of getting the washing dry, every time. Letting the kids stay up a little longer to meander in the last rays of the day. Watering the gardening. Spontaneous socialising. Salads and always trying to create a new, unprecedented level of awesome kinda salad. Cold beer, or in my case the occasional mocktail. Pottering, lots of pottering. Games and lot of things just for shits and giggles.

Summer days 2

This passed two weeks we have been gifted time. Time for all of this. Time for just us. Thank you Summer.

Summer days 3

What are your favorite things about Summer?

Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess for #IBOT


January 4, 2015 by Vicki

I’m not good at committing to bloggy things but I’m gonna give this a shot. By jeepers I will.

It’s called the 52 project and is hosted over at Practicing Simplicity. Basically, it’s taking a portrait of my Vicklets once a week and posting it here every Sunday. It’s a good way for me to document their little faces over the course of a year and to ensure I’m getting my fancy fandango (love that word even if it’s got nothing to do with this context) camera out and using it. I can do with sharpening up my photography skills right?

So here are the first portraits taken for 2015:


Little Vick – Being four makes you really good at stuff. You are very committed to activities particularly if they will benefit your belly. Like me, you love our annual pilgrimage to the berry farms in Summer. You were an excellent picking companion as you could see down low and spot the delectable berries that I would have walked straight passed. No berry escaped us. I was impressed that you would not eat a single berry out of your bucket until you’d finished picking. You certainly didn’t get that kind of restraint from your mumma. I used to make a berry smoothy every single day around the time you were conceived. Your Dad often comments that it was the berry smoothies that made me extra fertile. I’m not sure if that’s the exact reason of how you came to exist, but I’m not surprised that you love them.


Baby Vick – 18 months – Serious raspberry guts. Everything is about YOUR belly. When you realised what we were actually putting into our buckets you dipped your little fingers in and stole away with great handfuls at a time and smothered them into your mouth. We did not have to pay for nearly half the berries we picked with thanks to you.

52 project

2015 – One Word

January 1, 2015 by Vicki

I have never really been one for New Years resolutions. I can confidently say that I sux at them and I’m just way too half hearted to really make them happen. Every single year since, forever.

Now in my elderly years I have learned to not even both. That’s the best resolution I’ve ever come up with and I’ve displayed amazing dedication to it.

I do so admire you lot out there that do set out to achieve your resolutions and win. Kudos to you. You win at life.

So now with my grouchy state of mind towards resolutions known, I’m here to contradict absolutely everything I’ve just said. See my Kiki K diary in all her prettiness seduced me into writing down a few thoughts. AKA resolutions.


They’re thoughts that have been swimming around for a bit. They’re not just randomly plucked out of thin air so maybe 1 or 2 might randomly happen for me. Probably not on any real account of effort on my behalf. The word “lazy” didn’t appear on the list for no reason. In fact that last one is virtually obsolete already.

Some bloggers have been adopting a word as their life’s theme for 2015. Maxabella Loves started this and I kinda like it. A single word is more likely to rattle around in my feeble brain and stay with me rather than an entire list of self demands.

Of course, finding that one word that means something is no east task.

The ones that wafted passed for consideration included family, contentment, calm, simplicity and sanity. That was more of a funny-ha-ha that last one.

I had to look at my year ahead realistically. There will be so much goodness and so much hard yakka. These things are always delivered with a new baby. New babies = sleep deprivation and anxiety for me. I won’t lie, the prospect of it all again is daunting. I just want my mind to be still enough so I can be a decent mother not just to newborn Vick but to my other two Vicklets who need me just as much and my husband who needs and deserves a solid wife. With all this in mind I’ve decided my word for 2015 has to be:


Maintaining balance of ones physical state and their state of mind. I’ll be needing that. Wish me luck.

What would your word be for 2015?

Do you believe in New Years resolutions?