Just an update on Jonathan. He came through the procedure OK and is now looking like a proper redneck. Seriously, he's still cute. I'll bore you with all the details later. For now I give you something more exciting, a guest post from Mummy McTavish of Samster.com. She comes to us, or me, at least, from Down Under. Thanks, so much Mummy for your time and your post. Besides Potty Mummy, you're my favorite mummy!

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So while Lisa is spending time cuddling her little man and keeping his
strength up with custard and ice-cream she asked me to guest post about
poop. Truly, she wanted me to post about poop on her blog. But I’m going
to do better than that.

I’m going to post about something scarier than
poop (and I’ve dealt with MORE than enough poop to be classed as an
expert after this week) much scarier…

I’m going to devote an entire
post to the scariest thing I know… Justin Beiber.
Bahahahaha, actually I didn’t have a clue who he was until very
recently. I saw his name trending on twitter and I clicked it… and it
told me nothing. I did a Googleimage search and saw his 7 year old smile
grinning at me. I didn’t recognise his cutesy little boy face (or what I
could see of it behind his floppy hair).

I have finally found out that
he is a singer,and then tonight I saw a promo for a concert he’s doing
in Sydney and he honestly looks like my little Lion with all of his
scrawny 5 year old frame singing his heart out. Its one concert I
certainly won’t be tuninginto. Since I know nothing more than that about
him, it’s not shaping up to be a good post… so how about I scrap that one.

Maybe I could write about living in Australia… you know, since I do.
Lets seeeeee… I did a little bit of a tourist campaign on my blog a
while back and came up with a new catch cry for my state. The old one
was “Queensland. Beautiful one day, perfect the next.” I know,
BOOOOORING. My new one was much more… well… tell me what you
think… “Queensland. Beautiful one day, FREAKY DANGEROUS the next.” It
has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? So, wanna come visit? Yeah, maybe I’d
better not go too much into the whole touristy thing.
Soooo, what to write about, what to write about?

Okay, how about I back
track a little bit.
Let me introduce myself… I am Mummy McTavish. *Mummy McT pauses to
imagine all the millions of blog readers chorusing to their computer
screens “Hiiii Muuuummy McTaviiiish”* I blog over at Samster, all about
life in our house with My husband, Wolf, our three boys, Lion (5),
Dragon (3) and Monkey (8 months) and myself. No, they are not our real
names… I know, you’re surprised aren’t you? We lead a quiet life, my
kids love nothing more than cleaning, reading quietly and keeping their
clothes neat and tidy.

My husband loves to bring me breakfast and a
coffee in bed each morning;he works a full day and then comes home and
cooks a 5 course meal and cleans the house. I spend my days relaxing
poolside and drinking multi-coloured drinks in pretty glasses and
blogging. What? I’m sure there is someone out there that has that
life… I’ve watched wife swap!
So, the reality is that,well, our life is pretty regular for a family
with three boys.

There is mess, mess and more mess, with a counterweight
of cuddles and sweet comments about how beautiful and lovely mummy is. I
blog when I can,which lately hasn’t been very often and I survive on a
diet of caffeine and chocolate. Pretty normal.

We deal with the same dramas that every other family does. This
afternoon I was changing Monkey’s nappy and he was doing that annoying
flip-flop rolling thing as I grappled with him to clean him up. Dragon
was standing on the chair at the head of the change table where he
shouldn’t be because it distracts Monkey and exacerbates the
flip-flopping.

So the monologue begins… “Monkey, roll over. Dragon,
get down from there. Monkey, hold still. No, don’t just duck down, get
down off there completely. Monkey, roll over. Dragon, I said get down.
Monkey, hold still… I said hold still. ROLL OVER. Dragon, get down
before you hurt yourself. MONKEY… FOCUS! (I know, telling an 8 month
old to focus is like telling a Jack Russel to stop twitching) Dragon, if
you don’t make yourself invisible I’m going to MONKEY STOP ROLLING
thank-you Dragon. Monkey, I do not want poop all over me. Dragon, please
stay down. Monkey, I’m going to get poo everywhere. Dragon, do you want
this poop to get on you? Monkey, thank-you for letting me finish.
Dragon, please stay down, no down, not up, down! Monkey, just let me do
up this other side. Dragon, sit, stay. THANK YOU MONKEY, you are
finished!”

Mummy and Monkey leave the room and I assume that Dragon is
following me. I get out to the lounge room and sit down, all of a sudden
there is this scream.

You know the scream that means there is blood…
or something is broken. I practically hurl Monkey at Wolf and start
towards the room where I now realise Dragon stayed. “Don’t move, what’s
wrong, stay where you are, you’re okay” Mummy gets to the room “ARE you
okay?” “MUUUUMMYYYYYYY, YOU LEFT ME IN THE ROOOOOOOOOM”

Come to think of it, I’m too tired to write a post tonight. Send Lisa
some virtual hugs for her and Jonathan and go and eat some custard and
ice-cream yourself. You deserve it after reading this post.

Let me just tell you how excited I am to have Ginny Marie of Lemon Drop
Pie guest posting for me today and Mummy McTavish from Samster.com
tomorrow. I'm away today with Jonathan, who is having two of his teeth
pulled. Not looking forward to this day at all. But I was looking
forward to Ginny Marie's post and I just love this photo of her girls!
Please enjoy her guest post and visit her over at Lemon Drop Pie when
you have time!

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I’m a “good-job-er.”

Every time my daughters do something, I automatically say, “Good job!”

Sometimes I try to mix it up a little, by saying, “Fantastic!” or “That’s awesome!” But mostly, I say, “Good job!”

There’s nothing wrong with that, right? I’m just trying to encourage my daughters; to let them know I approve of what they’re doing.

The other morning, I told my two-year-old daughter, Emmy, to brush her hair. We were both standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, and Emmy slowly and meticulously brushed her hair.

To me, however, her light, two-year-old strokes didn’t smooth her snarly locks, so I said “Good job!” as I reached for the brush to rebrush her hair.
And then I stopped myself. What kind of a mixed message was I sending her? Here I am, telling her she did a good job…but it’s not good enough to leave alone? If I brush her hair again, am I sending her the message that she didn’t do a good enough job?

I put the brush down.

We left the bathroom and went about our day’s activities.
I wondered; do I always undermine my daughters?
Lily has started to make her bed every morning, and one morning I went into her room and flipped the edge of her quilt down after she had just made her bed.

“I want it the other way, Mom,” she said, as she flipped the edge back up.

I want my daughters to be independent and responsible, and if I want to teach them these traits, then I also need to teach myself to stand back and let them BE independent and responsible. Right now, I’m not telling Emmy “Good job!” because her hair is smooth and snarl-free, or telling Lily that she did a fantastic job making her bed because it has hospital corners and I can bounce a quarter on it.

No, I’m telling them “Good job” for being independent and taking responsibility for brushing their hair and making their bed. The hospital corners may never happen, but the neatly made bed will. And Lily can be proud of making her bed ALL BY HERSELF.

And that’s why Emmy’s hair is a mess when we go out in the morning. Just so you know.

Because we’re never running out the door, late again, with no time to spare for Emmy to brush her hair….