traditions

Easter Holidays 2026

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Easter holidays. Pretty much done and they have had their moments (like nearly the entirety of Thursday and Friday) but also loads of good. This was the first school holiday with two girls at home. If I just put here that C likes quiet and E likes loud and very physical, that may go some way to enlightening anyone interested as to how time at home can go for us. Especially when S is home, too. Loud, and also can be very focused on something, which is amazing from my adult perspective, but infuriating for siblings who think that even though she can play with something for hours on end and not break it or bust it or eat it or bin it or ruin it in any conceivable way, the fact that she might have done that two years ago is still apparently a strong factor in their brains or may it’s just the infuriating THAT’S MINE that maybe I’ll have on my gravestone. 

Here’s some of what happened for us over these holidays.

We recovered. Good Friday I realised was the first morning in weeks and weeks that we didn’t have to be somewhere and we were all well. Girls needed a rest. I needed a rest. I made hot cross buns for the first time in years only I didn’t do great crosses so I scored the raised eight-year-old eyebrows of doubt as to their validity. Fair. I was really frustrated that, being a very crafty person who really likes making things and who has a whole heap of Easter crafts saved on Instagram and Pinterest, nothing of the sort happened. As I said, girls were wrecked. The place was an utter disaster as I’d been working so much (I did NO work over the Easter weekend though) so I did what I could to make that less … you know. The closest we got to craft was the girls playing with rainbow clay for a bit. I was sad, but also mindful for next year. I have plans.

Thanks to Bluey, the Easter Bunny did a bit of a hunt with clues for the girls. The most talked about bit was that he left socks in their Easter baskets!!! So the next clue was where their socks go!! And it was a fridge magnet and he had hidden some Easter eggs in magnet houses on the fridge!!! And so on. Unfortunately, there were not enough clues for E so she was moaning about that all morning. We actually made it to church on Easter Sunday, also for the first time in a long time. This was huge for me, and it made such a difference to my inner being. There were so many kids in the children’s area I didn’t even count but at least 30. 

This was a holiday of park visits. We went to parks, as many parks as possible. On Easter Monday, we went to one which is a bit of a walk away but has a bus just outside to take us home. This park is big and lovely and the big open spaces and tall trees always do my soul some good. At one point, C asked me to pretend to be a fox and she was a rabbit, and it ended up with me chasing all my three girls plus another who looked she could have been my child. It turned into me being Mr Todd and they were all little bunnies and that was then the game for the holidays. Throughout the holidays, we also kept running into E’s best friend. Both girls have younger siblings still at the same daycare and we would all either collide at drop-off and then sometimes go to a park together, or pass each other on the way home… and go to the same park together. Sometimes they would have their dogs which would have C over the moon. 

E’s big request for the holidays was to go to the hose park with this friend, so we actually coordinated a double family trip (although Glenn was working. Sigh). Ferries were caught. The hose park – a play area outside GoMA with a giant hose sprawled around it on which my kids will play for hours and hours and hours – was played in and new friends were made and ice creams were screamed about and consumed and then we went to the pink park – the playground in South Bank with pink slides – for more playing there before coming home in the middle of a stupidly hot day. Girls slept well that night.

This was the holiday of the flu stab. I mean flu shot. My plan had been to take E and C on the Wednesday in the first week, slather C in the numbing gel, get them both their stabs and then on Friday, S and I would get ours done and Glenn would get his as and when he could. Great plan, except C has been working up to this for two years. Two years of anxiety over the pain that the previous two flu shots caused her. She is, shall I say, rather sensitive, but also super interested so every nurse and pharmacist and phlebotomist trying all the tricks just fails as she will pay enough attention to answer their distracting questions but still keep a very close eye on the stab site. She screamed so much while E was having hers done that the pharmacist and I bailed. C tried again later with Glenn and closer but still no, so I forked out for the new nasal spray for her and four of us had our shots on the Friday. Yay for free flu vaccines!

This was the first holiday of a holiday activity. The dance school where ballet and acro happen holds holiday workshops and C and E both wanted to do the Disney princess one. Drop off 8.30-9, pickup about 3.15, and I could actually get to do some work without E suddenly at my side to tell me, “Mummy it’s ten dot dot four six. It’s ten dot dot forty-six!” Or being asked on repeat for colouring in pages or to take photos of drawings or loom bands or whose turn it is on the iPad and can we play a game on the iPad. Goodness. I love it when they do acro in the hallway – C can climb up to the ceiling – but the screaming when someone walks underneath without announcing it, and the arguing over whether a move should be classed as a bunny hop or an L-stand or a handstand, not to mention all the thuds of young people landing nearby – it gets a bit much. We all really appreciated that dance workshop.

Since then, though, it’s just been four days of frustration and fighting. Mostly. We have a rental inspection on Tuesday and so I am busy chucking stuff and getting frustrated that, not having done well in being a good example for keeping the place nice nor installing any form of respect for our home or just don’t just drop your used bandaid on the floor, girls are trying to run and hide at most mentions of making the place look nice. Or even just less bad. I am anticipating two days of intense stress followed by about the same of ooh isn’t this nice and clear and … ahhhhh. Wish me luck.

Baking Across America – Smörbakelser

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Now, I know I said I would do at least one of these recipes a month and I know I did two in January and one in February and we are suddenly in April and what happened there? I am here to reassure you, or to plead my case or something, but I promise I made these in March. The very end of March.

So. Smörbakelser. Swedish-American shortbread, which is easier for my pronunciation brain to get around having never learned a Scandinavian language. Shortbread is so clearly what this is. As for any Swedish or American component, well, I’m not sure. I am uneducated in the factors that make shortbread Swedish or American or Scottish, although I think I could pick out a Scottish shortbread recipe if you gave me a few. Recipes, that is. I’m not confident I could pick a shortbread region from a lineup of actual cookies. I have typed the word “shortbread” a number of times in this paragraph. Time to move on.

I have mixed feelings when I consider my experience with this cookie and recipe. I attempted it after taking E (with S) to dancing on Saturday morning. I also made a baked oatmeal at the same time and it seems that the kitchen gods could only allow one recipe to flourish. Not from the recipe, mind you, but from all that surrounded it. Girls can only play nicely for a certain amount of time. Glenn was home and had plans for the kitchen. Girls needing my attention protracted the time spent on the recipe which caused stress. Softening butter by placing it next to the air fryer vents worked too well, so I ended up with quite a soft mix that I ended up putting in the fridge for later. 

“Later” turned out to be Sunday after church, but that meant I had buttery batter coming to room temperature the way lumps of anything do: not uniformly. When it came to rolling it out, some parts were a bit floppier than I would like and other parts still felt like a butter brick. And for extra fun, the weather was still too warm – even though we have definitely hit autumn now – so any re-rolling of dough had very very very soft and floppy dough to work with. 

Also, note to self. A rolling pin with the measuring tool will come in handy in your life and you know this and it’s not like spending all the money you have on a Thermomix or anything. Measuring rolling pins are inexpensive. Get one. 

Oh, also. At the cutting out the dough stage was when I realised we do not have a 4cm fluted circle cutter. We have a 6cm one, though, so that was what was used. Great for using what we have, and that was not a difference that would affect the recipe in any great way. Not so great for how many cookies you have or anything. I’m here to inform you that an approximately-rolled dough with a 6cm fluted cutter will yield (shudder) 17 cookies. I do not like prime numbers.

On the upside, these are a success. They taste like what a shortbread cookie should taste like. But. They spread a bit more than was indicated they would (“a tiny bit” instead of “none”). They were very much enjoyed by girls (yay) but that led to E, having been told a firm NO for any more because it is late in the afternoon, just taking another anyway from a still-hot tray. No injury, thankfully, but the sudden reach to stop her arm touching a hot tray meant my yoghurt tub flipped onto the floor so instead of having afternoon tea I got to clean up the floor and my legs and feet first. 

So I am trying to remember the good. The container of cookies that won’t last the day helps attest to their worth. The firm crumble with a crunch of coarse sugar on the top is a winner. I’m not sure if I’ll make them again but you never know. I suppose I should learn how to pronounce them authentically first, though.

What We Read This Week (08/03/2026)

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We have reached a new level. In her school library borrowing time, C has been borrowing Amulet books. They are only allowed to borrow one graphic novel a week, and this has been all she has borrowed from school this year. She and a friend have been reading them together at school, and C has been devouring them (along with a whole host of other books) at home. A couple of weeks ago, E came home after her library borrowing day with an Amulet book, too. Another example of her trying to do something nice for her sister and also keen to see what all the fuss was about. So for a couple of weeks now, C has been reading Amulet to E at every opportunity. Heart melt.

C also started Home Story Time, where all three girls put a bunch of cushions and pillows on the floor in their bedroom, arrange themselves and the current favourite toys upon said cushions and pillows, and C reads to them. For all it is hard raising three girls close in age in a small space, it definitely has its delights.

Last week, on the night of the full moon/blood moon eclipse, it was one of THOSE nights where girls just kept each other awake. Not for any annoying reason, it was just one girl would be close to sleep and another would think of something they had to say or find, or they wanted to look at the moon, and I … I did not cope so well. Although, giving myself some credit here, a whole lot better than me of a year ago would have and definitely a big improvement on me of a few years ago. But still. Not great. One of the issues was that we have been choosing lullabies to listen to, which sounds like a lovely idea, right? Except this is on the internet, which has more lullabies for kids to go to sleep than there are stars in the sky. I finally had enough of who gets to choose first, how long they would take to find The Right One, and the annoyance from other girls at someone else’s choice. It’s still making me cross! 

On Wednesday I realised a lot of the sleep delay was from lullabies, and a lot of my bedtime stress was from lullabies, and so I realised I needed to replace the lullabies with something else. I realised I needed to be reading to them, and not reading picture books, and definitely not reading funny or exciting or scary books. No. I needed to be reading the slower, gentler chapter books that I have been reading to C for the last couple of years. Wednesday night I read the first chapter each of Heidi and of Pollyanna, and S was asleep before I even began reading, and E fell asleep just before 8 for the first time in over two months, and C … well, two out of three ain’t bad.

We also had a rainy Saturday afternoon trip to the library. C promptly chose, borrowed, started reading and then squirrelled away on her bunk two books. The usual sort. Animal rescue. Dragon hunting. S – I think?  – borrowed a Holly Webb Christmas book. I will check that, but it will be perfect for nightly chapter book reading. E borrowed an Easter egg hunt book and a picture book. She seems to have a knack for finding books that are diverse and inclusive. This one we read this evening: Before We Met. When she showed it to me, I knew it would have me crying. I warned her, but also reassured her they would be happy tears. Oh my. There is so much in this book! And if we had had difficulties having babies it would be even more so. It’s one of those where the words are beautiful and can encompass all the parenting love, and the pictures add all the nuance that grownups understand and kids will come to understand in time. Goodness. Here I go again. Needless to say, there were cuddles and forehead kisses galore tonight.

Baking Across America – Lowbush Blueberry Buckle

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I must admit, even having been to Maine and enjoyed their blueberries (and yes, even contemplated ways in which I could move to Maine), I only understood two of the three title words in this dish. Yet having left my February Baking Across America baking to the very last day of February (two family birthdays with a birthday party over the course of eight days had a bit of an impact), this dish kept coming to mind. It looked good. It looked achievable. It looked summery, which was appropriate for our last day of summer. I had to find the suggested alternative for graham crackers (digestives), and order them alongside sour cream and frozen blueberries, and then I was good to go.

This was one of those dishes that got started one day and finished another. Thank goodness for dry ingredients. After trying to break up digestives for a bit on Friday and then Saturday morning, I then remembered our new and lovely and powerful blender. Bliss. Blitzing bliss. Sugar and digestives and cinnamon looked like sand in no time. I discovered I cannot hold a knife in my left hand (come on, who does?!), so my Scottish crumble skills came to the fore. Sorry if that makes this less legit, but honestly, it was pure luck that the blueberries were tiny, as specified in the recipe, and not the giant ones of the previous packet. Aussies are not so particular about our blueberries as this dish specifies. 

I actually managed to get to the last step of the process before putting it in the tin before S came in hauling the ladder to help me. Then by the time she had washed her hands then told her sisters she was helping me then blown her nose and washed her hands again, it was actually time to put it in the oven.

This was one of those dishes that as I was putting it into the tin I thought, “This is too stiff”, and as I was bringing it out of the oven I thought, “Did I burn it?” Yet, having let it cool for several hours, slicing into it was a dream. A crispy promise of baked sugar with moist cake beneath. Goodness.

And because it was our last day of summer, we took a few pieces to a friend’s place for a swim in their pool. 

Which. Was. Glorious. 

We had it to ourselves. It was clear and summery and warm and just utterly perfect, and having a treat by the side of the pool made it the best swim of the season. Our host enjoyed a piece with me while the girls got straight down to the business of swimming. But after a bit, S was out and having half a piece before wiping crumbs from her face with her sleeve and getting back into the pool. I think she had three pieces in total. S and C relaxed on the deckchairs with a piece each when I finally had everyone out of the pool and I have been assured that it will be a welcome addition to lunchboxes. What a win.

A Simple Birthday Party

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A few months ago: E – “for my 5 birthday party, I want”… Me: Sure.

About six weeks ago: Me – “We’d better start working out what you would like for your birthday party”.  E – “I don’t want a birthday party. I just want like what S had for her 3 birthday. That cake with strawberries”. Me: Sure. Are you sure? Because I don’t want us to get to your birthday and you decide you want a party after all. 

Hahahahahahaha

There was much flip-flopping. She wanted a party. She didn’t want a party. She wanted a party but NOT inviting these two people. She wanted a party and inviting kids from her class – remembering that school started at the end of January – who she had not told me she had ever played with. She didn’t want a party. She wanted a party.

Eventually, I took the reins. Party, BUT the whole class is invited as we are absolutely NOT playing favourites in prep at all, really. Play date at the park for whoever can come on relatively short notice and I am just bringing a cake. No food. No drinks. No games. No balloons and streamers and all the other stuff. Just. Cake. 

It couldn’t be the weekend before her birthday as that was too soon. Despite the ominous forecast for rain, rain and more rain, that meant the weekend after her birthday. Saturday is ballet in the morning – and at least three other girls in her class do Saturday morning ballet, too – and there was a school disco in the evening. Saturday was not looking great for a birthday party. Sunday. Sunday? Sunday. Glenn will be working all day but as it’s just a play in the park and I’m just bringing cake, this will be fine. Right? Yep. Fine. No problem at all.

Hahahahahahaha

This turned out to be the limit of what I could handle. The number of times I pulled the “Am I cancelling this birthday party?” card out. The number of tears that I shed as various things pushed me over the edge. The number of times I muttered to myself about the futility of trying to ice a cake in February in Brisbane what was I thinking why do I forget this every year. The stress I felt held over from the last birthday party, for C’s 6th birthday when we forgot a knife to cut the cake, the stress exacerbated by me starting to pack the things we needed for the cake like the cake knife and candles and matches WHERE ARE THE MATCHES sobbing and feeling like even the most basic party is beyond me it’s just a cake how hard is it?!

I found the matches.

I got three girls and one cake and one bag of cake-related necessities and 3 bags containing 30 party bags to the park. And girls started playing and kids started arriving and having a big play at the park, as I had hoped they would. Parents got to know each other. I found out most of the parent names and forgot at least a third of them. E played with two kids she’s never mentioned playing with before. I loved hearing her say over her shoulder as she got up and started running, “I’ve got to get more enchantments for the campfire”. In fact, E was having so much fun that when I found her and said I thought it was probably time we did the cake her response was, “No, thanks. I want to keep playing”.

Thankfully, she found me about 28 seconds later to say, “Actually, I changed my mind. I want cake now”. Thankfully, I had a mum take a photo of me with my girls instead of it just being me taking a photo of the girls. Thankfully, a mum stood next to me and helped me dole out cake and told each child to take it and sit under a tree so by the time every child had had a slice and some had had seconds, I looked up to see eight kids sitting on the big roots of a Moreton Bay fig tree with dappled sunlight splashing through as they all ate cake. Thankfully, people had to head off after cake and I wasn’t left being the Bad Mum who was actually having to drag her children away from her own child’s birthday party because dinner isn’t going to happen by staying at the party. Thankfully, one family coordinated their children and their own parents and their dogs and took one child home and came back with their car to ferry home all the presents. Thankfully, Glenn called on his way home and prepped a very simple dinner so girls could come in and wash hands and rip open presents oh my goodness me the presents and then eat and wash and go to bed and not sleep until stupid o’clock because what a day.

It was simple. It was more stressful than I anticipated. It was lovely. It was actually just what we wanted it to be. A simple birthday party for our E.

When It Gets Real

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Week 1 of school is a bit unreal. Everyone is getting used to everything. Activities haven’t started just yet. Kids are shellshocked as they adjust to this whole school thing. Parents are shellshocked as they adjust to this whole school thing. Teachers are smiling and hopeful and being calm beacons in the sea of new. 

Week 2 can hit hard. The shine has come off. Heads down. Meal prep queen on board. Routines. Canva printables for said routines. Pictures, gotta have pictures. Rules. Blowback on said rules. Here’s a snapshot of our mornings this week so when you feel like asking any family with school-aged kids how the adjustment to school is going, you can be prepared for, you know, likely answers.

Monday.

No screens before breakfast. I am the worst mother in the WORLD. C set up a garden for us with felt pieces I’ve cut out recently. I let them watch ABC Kids at breakfast. After breakfast, S decided to do colouring in instead of getting ready. C was busy reading on her bunk and definitely not getting ready for school.

E: What are we doing today?

Me: We’re dropping off S at daycare, then you get to go to big school—

E: aGAIN?!

Me: —and then after school, Auntie J picks you up and brings you home, then we’re taking C to Irish—

E: I HATE DAYS LIKE THIS

I had a big shout at my children who were so not cooperating with getting ready. On the way to school, I pointed out how it had been not such a nice morning and we had screens so this is why we don’t do screens at breakfast.

Tuesday.

No screens before breakfast. No not even a little bit. C told me she was going on strike. No talking to me and no listening to me. I was annoyingly unbothered. She broke the strike to explain that she would not be doing anything I asked her to. I said, that’s fine. I don’t have to order anything from the book catalogue you were so desperate for me to order. 

I think I won that round.

As everyone was actually eating breakfast well before 7, silly me relented and allowed two (2) episodes of Bluey that were my choice to avoid fights or watching for far too long so everyone gets a turn. It. Took. Forever. To. Get. Ready.

Then, bonus, E and C were both missing a school shoe. We had one (1) E shoe and one (1) C shoe. I was gobsmacked and furious and feeling like such a useless, hopeless mum. C wore her running shoes. E refused to wear her running shoes. I managed to get them on her feet, but she kept kicking me to get them off and after a while I just gave up. She walked to daycare in socks.

When at daycare, one of her last year preschool friends was dropping off his little brother. They are not doing so well being in different places during the day (heart melt!) so their mum has done little “hug” notes. Adorable! 

Other mum: How’s E settling in at school?

Me: Well… she walked here in socks because she refused to wear her shoes, if that gives you any idea of how we’re going.

Of course, E stepped in something squishy and smelly so relented in putting on her shoes but insisted on taking off the yucky sock. So she wore one sock and two shoes all day. My head is shaking just thinking about it. When I finally got home, I found one (1) E shoe and one (1) C shoe on S’s chair. Sabotage.

Wednesday.

No screens before breakfast. Again. Yes. I’m serious.

I had three very grumpy girls who were grumpy and bickering all morning. I had another big shout. It still really gets to me that even when we start the getting ready after breakfast phase at 7.10 we still may only be out the door at 8.05. 8.05 is too late. We haven’t actually been late to school yet but it is a near thing.

Halfway up the hill that the school is on – it’s a steep one and I find the Bluey trick of playing wind-up helps greatly – I heard a leaving the house kerfuffle and then a kid calling out “E! E! Hi, E! E’s IN MY CLASS! HI E DO YOU WANT TO RACE UP THE HILL” so his dad and I watched them running up a steep hill and now I know another boy and his dad.

Thursday.

No screens before breakfast. Again. Yes. I’m serious. Like, this is the rule now and how we do life and seeing as you seem to be having trouble understanding, you get a mummy daddy story from when we were young back in the dark ages of pre-internet last century. When my brothers and I were only allowed to watch 30 minutes of TV after school. One TV. One choice. Two older brothers made sure I grew up not getting to watch what I want and, bonus I realised later, also receiving the message that my choices are less valid than other people’s. I didn’t share that last tidbit, but the girls were horrified that I would have had to watch big boy shows or miss out entirely.

Everyone had shoes. I couldn’t find E’s hat. I had bought extras when I saw them in January, but this still really got to me. I did lots of deep breathing and told the girls why I was frustrated. Glenn found E’s hat exactly where it was meant to be. We made it to school only just on time.

Friday.

Fridays are always more relaxed because we don’t have to do the daycare drop-off as well. Of course, we are nearly always late on Fridays. This morning, S was awake early enough that I hadn’t left for my walk so she came with me. By the time we returned, C and E were awake and still needing reminding that we don’t do screens before school. They are starting to get the idea, though, and E and S asked for some colouring in and C started doing acro practice. More colouring happened after breakfast while I had some coffee and before I knew it, we were running late. I did a Mr Bean on E, getting her undies on her while she washed her hands, pulling on her skort while she brushed her teeth. 

For the first day all week, I was relaxed. No shouting. No deep breaths. A bit panicked at the end, but we were not late. 

Bonus, this afternoon was a big step up from last Friday afternoon. Last Friday afternoon, it was a struggle to get E out of the tree next to her classroom and go home. Last Friday afternoon, there were tired tantrums from E and other kids in her class. Last Friday afternoon, E kicked and bit and pinched and punched me all the way home. It was not a pleasant trip. This afternoon, girls shoved cheese buddies in their mouths and didn’t take too much persuading to come home instead of running through the sprinklers on the oval (win!). They were allowed oaty chocolate chip cookies once we were on the way home. I was not hurt once AT ALL. There were stories shared and laughs shared and kindness and happiness and cooperation and it was SO NICE.

What We Read This Week (25/01/2026)

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This has been an emotional week. It started with the big, big emotions of when will this holiday ever end will I ever get back to school and the nerves of E as she faces a big wall of unknown that is actually fairly recognisable and familiar but it still carries the weight of new and different. Not to mention that there were a couple of things that we had said we would do but could not do due to illness. I was screamed at a lot for that. As I suspected, though, a lot of E’s big emotions were from the unknown and it being a long time since prep transition days. Thursday, we had a big day of playing at the park then having hair cuts (E has a fringe now!) and buying proper school shoes then dropping off C’s school supplies and showing daddy E’s classroom. E’s teacher spotted her and we had a chat and then there was more park play where we met a classmate of E’s and then S pickup and E actually fell asleep at a normal sort of time without getting physically violent with me. Phew.

There have been a few books that have helped with all this emotional weight. The usuals. Children’s Bible Stories. Ruby Red Shoes. A new frequent pick for E is Maisy Goes to the Cinema, which I find ok but it is not my favourite. It feels like what is probably a Peppa Pig episode but with different animals. One that is very flat and two-dimensional and has the underlying purpose of “Let’s tell children what to expect when they go to the cinema”. Nothing at all like the Bluey episode called Movies with all its humour and relatability and parenting.

A recent library pick for E was two Claris in Paris books. I had pointed these out to at least one girl while book shopping in Kmart a while ago and was met with glazed eyes. I did not press it. Now, though, these are up there with favourite books. They have even been placed on our bookshelves instead of in the library book pile so I see a furtive library trip in my future. One of the books borrowed is a hide and seek book, as my girls call them. As it turns out, my girls love this style of book, which is a fantastic calming tool for them. The other is more of a mystery book with a missing Fabergé egg. And beautiful colours. And acts of selfless kindness. Beautiful.

C has been reading her way through the library’s animal chapter books. Anything by Holly Webb is snaffled by her, as well as a series called Zoe’s Rescue Zoo. All girls have still been enjoying Miss Rita, Mystery Reader and C is still devouring Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls. That one has prompted many conversations about all sorts of things. Cue random questions at random times resulting in me swallowing a few times and wondering what is actually age-appropriate for dealing with topics like totalitarian regimes and occupations of a military kind and how do people recover from diarrhoea and how long does it take to recover from any sickness and how to stop wars forever. Goodness.

Lamingtons

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Australia Day. It’s a bit of a fraught occasion, and understandably so. But until the powers that be come up with an alternative day that doesn’t have the issues the current date does, January 26 is going to be the day we celebrate the good things about being Aussie. Healthcare. Education. Low gun crime. Breathtakingly beautiful landscape. Venomous creatures galore. Creatures found here but nowhere else in the world. And our food! Vegemite, Milo and Tim Tams abound in lists of typically Aussie foods and are packed carefully for overseas trips to share with expats and the curious. 

Today, though, I wanted to make a staple sweet that is on offer at every decent gathering. One that is doused in coconut and so eaten by me in a combination of duress and national pride: the lamington. As it was invented just up the road from where I lived in high school, I feel a duty to like it and bring up my girls knowing this delight of sponge and chocolate and coconut that gets stuck in your throat and demands you take a swig of your beverage of choice. Even though I am decidedly not a fan of coconut, lamingtons are impossible without it, and also if anyone comes in and says “I thought I’d change it up a bit and use crushed almonds/chopped pistachios/extra cocoa powder/chopped cranberries” or anything else then my eyebrows will go down and my eyes will narrow and I will lament the way of the world. Lamingtons are very simple. Don’t stuff it up. Here goes.

Oh. This is the easy way. The achievable way. The “I’ll just make lamingtons” way. Not the way of making your own sponge and making your own jam and milking your own cows to make the cream. Not here. 

You will need:

Bought sponge cake, preferably the double rectangular variety. 

Chocolate topping or syrup that is not too thick. If it looks like it’s set to be a science experiment in viscosity, skip it. Or buy it and water it down a bit.

Optional: cream for whipping, and strawberry or raspberry jam. The sort of jam you would have found in the 70s, none of this 100% fruit business.

Desiccated coconut. Sigh. On the upside, it uses a lot so I currently have not much left.

What you do:

Whip out your baking paper or reusable baking paper. Cover a couple of trays with the paper.

Cut your sponges into bits. How big is up to you. I don’t think there’s a standard lamington size. I went with rows about 2cm wide then cut them into three, so about 4-5cm long.

If you are doing optional filling, whip some cream. It does’t have to be stiff peaks or anything, just a bit stiffer than dolloping out of the tub. I didn’t want to do all the lamingtons filled so I started with about 1/3 cup which was too much.

Prepare yourself. I move left to right, so I recommend sponge, jam, cream, tray. The bottom of each pair of sponges gets a bit of jam on its top. The top of each pair gets some cream on its bottom. If you have a helper, you may end up with jam on both bits. This is fine. We’re not entering these in a country fair or anything. Only a scraping of jam and cream is needed. Once spread, pop them together so jam and cream are touching and corners align, and put them on a tray. 

When you have all the filled bits that you want on a tray, put that tray in the freezer for about 15 minutes.

If not filling the lamingtons, just cut as above and proceed. The next left-right work station is sponge, a bowl for the topping, a bowl for the coconut, lined trays.

Squirt a generous amount of topping into the topping bowl. Pour a generous amount of desiccated coconut into the coconut bowl. Both of these will need top-ups as you go. 

Put a piece of sponge into the topping and flop it around using a fork or something. You just need a thin layer of topping on each side. Once coated, use the fork, Luke, to lift it into the coconut. Heap coconut onto each side and flop it around. The right amount of coconut will stay on the topping. Lift your lamington onto a tray. Done! Repeat the process with the remaining sponge bits and the filled bits from the freezer.

Because this is summer in Brisbane and the humidity is real, I put the trays in the fridge. This helps the topping stay put and not melt down the sides in a fit of ennui. If there are any left in an hour, probably transfer them to a container and probably keep them in the fridge. 

Best eaten with a cup of milk or a milky tea to save you from choking on the coconut.

2025 Review

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

It’s that time of year, isn’t it? In all the haze of Christmas that follows fast on the heels of the end of school year frenzy, there is that week of limbo when most things slow down or stop and there is time to reflect and time to consider and plan and contemplate. What just happened here. Is that who I am. How do I want my life to be, or my self to be, or my family to be, or my anything. 

When I look back at a year ago, I am amazed at how far we have come, how far I have come, how my family has changed. It is so satisfying looking at what my aims were for this year and seeing what was achieved and how it made an impact. Here are a few.

On a family level, we went from one girl in school and two in daycare to about to be two girls in school and one in daycare. I also finished paying off my massive childcare debt which was immensely satisfying and empowering. There was so much pre-school for E but we managed it all and she is so prepared for big school. 

We went from having three girls doing swimming lessons and one doing Irish dancing, to no girls doing swimming lessons (officially), one doing Irish dancing (and danced in her first competition), and one doing ballet and jazz and tap (and danced in her first concert). Next year, all girls will have at least one dance class a week and I am a bit gobsmacked that I must now be a Dance Mum. By the end of term 1, I anticipate we will have two pairs of Irish dancing shoes, two pairs of ballet shoes, one pair of tap shoes, and maybe some barefoot dancing going on, too. This was unexpected.

We went from two girls in nappies overnight to, quite suddenly, no girls in nappies overnight. Except when an accident happens, but they all start off without. We went from plastic tablecloths that got ratty and disgusting and cut up and spilled on and drawn on, to cloth tablecloths … that get picked at and spilled on and drawn on and washed. It’s a big improvement. 

C can now roller-skate up and down the garden path. She is learning to ride a bike. She reads well beyond her age and is still doing maths things when she can on the iPad. E can write her name and all the letters and numbers and can tell me basic addition and also tell me two numbers and what it is – like, a house number that is 4, 2, so forty-two. S can write some letters and tell me most of them. She is still so little but also comes out with sentences that amaze me from their use of vocabulary as well as the emotional intelligence behind it.

We went from mostly daily grocery shopping to the occasional in-person top-up, but mostly delivered. One Funky Food box a fortnight with gloriously wacky fruit and veg, and two grocery shop deliveries a week. My stress is greatly reduced (and I mean, by a huge amount), as is our food bill. We don’t waste as much food as we used to, either.

For me, this blog has been so, so good to get back to. And not all that I write for it gets posted. There are many, many posts just written and not shared, but they have helped me by writing it. My brain has been reminded of how useful it is to get words out. My inner child has been reminded of its dream of being a writer. Maybe this year, even more will come of this.

Speaking of this year and goals, I have a few. I’m not a big one for sharing them, but hey. Why not. These are my dreams and aspirations and ideas, and unlike my usual way of getting to about 9.30pm on 31 December and thinking, oh, I should probably think of a goal for the new year, this year I actually started putting these in my notes on Boxing Day. Waaaaay ahead of schedule. So. 

Get back to starting the day with 10 sit ups, 10 push ups, 10 something else (mix it up!). Use the kettle bell at least twice a week. Be able to do the monkey bars at the gym park (that’s a big one for me to do for my girls). Get back to eating mostly vegetarian and whole foods. Use the freezer more wisely. More consistent/regular blogging. Profitable side business. Make a small doll. Embroider more. Try to sew something – as in, finish something – each week. Write. Bake something from Baking Across America (a Christmas present that I am devouring by reading before devouring by eating) at least once a month. Remove the baby things from the household. Teach the girls to swim.

That seems like a lot. It also seems like a largely January plan, and if that’s what it turns out to be for the most part, I’m fine with that. 

Happy new year! 

Christmas 2025 Rundown

/ annamurray / Leave a comment

Well. The big day is over, and I must say, a few tweaks to our Christmas this year made a big difference. I’m recording some of them here to remind myself for next year, in no particular order. I should say, this is not that Christmases past have been horrible or stressful or anything negative at all. This year, though, I really noticed some changes and I relished in them.

I started early. Like, September early. I was one of those people. Something for C caught my eye and I ordered it. I realised what S needed and ordered it. This place was having a spring sale and I bought something for each girl from there. I am so glad I did. I knew that this would make it less of a financial burden, but it also greatly reduced the mental burden of thinking and ordering and hoping something is in stock and then delivered on time. 

I was strict with myself. One big gift for each girl and one smaller gift. Glenn and I bought a big item (a much-needed Shark fan) as our present to each other. Santa delivered on undies/socks and something each girl was hoping for. However, as I had “had a chat with Santa” a few years ago, the No Toys Policy remained. I actually wavered on that, but as I was not keen to watch Peppa Pig to find out exactly what sort of bat and ball S thought she wanted, and unable to find a plastic talking ballerina toy with her own stage for E, and definitely unable to find an 8-10cm tall grownup doll for C’s dollhouse, it turned out that the No Toys Policy could stay firmly in place. 

Santa upped his game, however, and included food this year: a red and white candy cane as well as a rainbow candy cane, and a box of Smarties and a packet of popcorn. Any early risers or delay in breakfast could be fed by Santa. This was a Good Thing to do and I hope Santa does this in future. Santa also had a brainwave on Monday and included INKredible books – you know those mess-free activity books with a magic pen that you use to do the activities but the pen usually dries up about 3 pages from the end. This meant that while we sorted out breakfast (Baby Yoda eggs and sourdough toast), all girls were silently occupied. Win.

Glenn found gifts for the girls that really brought the fun factor in. Wind-up jellyfish. Friendship bracelet beading set. A Wicked cosmetics ball. Watercolour painting books that include the paint so you just need to add water. All these things bought good stretches of calm. I will be factoring this in to future Christmas gift considerations.

Not making things for Christmas made a big difference. I mean, I still did – I made a pocket to put on a bag for each of E’s preschool teachers, and I made blueberry jam for C’s Irish dancing teachers, and I made lip balm holder key rings for Glenn, and I had to sew a stocking for a girl on Christmas Eve night as we somehow lost 3 of ours (?!?!). But I wasn’t sewing coordinating dresses or bows or hot water bottle covers or soft toys or blankets for the girls. Phew. I learnt a few years ago that the Christmas Deadline creates way more stress than is good for me. When it’s made, it’s made, and they can enjoy it then. Plus, work carries on up until the week before Christmas and it is just too much to add on Christmas sewing. Summer sewing, however, is another prospect. As we are off to the ballet in January (squee!), girls may be in coordinating dresses by then.

Glenn’s dad sent Christmas money, and instead of spending it on more presents for the girls, we used this money for food and drink. Christmas treats are at least half the fun of Christmas, in my mind.

Not making things (much) as well as having shopped early meant that Christmas Eve was very relaxed. C helped me wrap presents in the afternoon as a storm raged outside and she helped me put them out well past her bedtime. I felt … calm. Excited and calm. And girls not sleeping very early at all (AT ALL) was not a problem this year thanks to all that preparation.

There were still some big emotions on the day. I also, apparently, ruined Christmas by not opening stockings on our bed “as we always do” (except for two years ago and possibly more but who’s counting), and not having Christmas crackers (Glenn and I legit forgot), and there’s another big and important factor that I was told off about today but I can’t remember what it is. Oh well. There’s always next year.