The Cupcake Whisperer and freaks of nature

Triplets, anyone?

Triplets, anyone?

Hi Frog-Lovers. I hope you’ve all been fantastic since I last chatted here with you. I’ve been a very busy frog wearing my non-writing hat and I know I’ve been neglecting you. So between now and Christmas I’m hosting some wonderful and funny writers here on the Lily Pad, while I get some amphibious rest. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I do. 

The first of these guests is my BFF* Bec Pobjie. I call Bec The Cupcake Whisperer because she haz the mad baking skillz. She also likes to defame birds and would really like people to stop talking to her, as you’ll see in the piece below where she gives a score to the experience of finding out that her family was about to get a little bit bigger than she’d anticipated.

When Michaela asked me to write a guest blog post I was honoured, surprised and suspicious that maybe she knew something I didn’t, like I was dying, but mostly I was honoured. I asked if there were any requirements and all I got was “funny” which you know, NO PRESSURE. So then I had to put my thinking cap on as to what topic I would take. I thought about writing about RSVPing to events because people who don’t RSVP really fucking get on my wick, and then I thought maybe I would write about birds because birds, what the fuck are they good for? (Besides eating of course).

*Shakes fist angrily at birds*

You’ve all seen The Birds right? They are so going to take over one day, you mark my words. But then I thought I’d write about the funniest thing that has ever happened to me, which was of course having twins, because that was totally hilarious. I’m sure most people that know me know that I have four year old twin girls. For those that don’t, I have four year old twin girls. They were naturally conceived and total freaks of nature, there are no twins anywhere in our families, which is what makes it so hilarious.

I’ll never forget the day we found out we were having twins. It was my 12 week ultrasound. We decided to take our son with us and make it an all-round family experience. All was going well, the sonographer was doing her thing and then she uttered a phrase that no one wants to hear about anything:

“Well this is going to be interesting”.

No, no, you don’t describe good things as “interesting”, so of course I panic. She goes quiet for what seems like an hour but I’m sure it was just a minute or so, and then she says “I’m seeing double”. Hahahahaha what? I was hoping she was just having a funny turn or something, because the other alternative I was not prepared for, but of course it was the alternative and it was lucky I was lying down. Cut to the end of the ultrasound (which was a very quiet experience as you can imagine because we were both quite shocked) and to me totally freaking out. We had no room really for two babies, our car wasn’t big enough for 2 babies, AND FUCKING HELL TWO BABIES, TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Aaaaanyway, lah de dah, we had two babies, at the same time, as one does when they have twins. And having twins brings out all the hilarity and stupid questions and having strangers talk to you even though you hate talking to people so much and of course every second person you come across has twins, or is a twin, or their second cousin twice removed only related to you by marriage has twins. Whenever we go out there is never a time where someone doesn’t say something about the twins, either to us or out loud to whoever they are with, for example:

“Awwww twins”

“Look! Two twins”

“Are they twins?”

“What lovely twins”

“Two girls?” (when babies whilst dressed in pink and purple).

“A boy and a girl?” (when babies whilst dressed in pink and purple).

I really should have attached labels, colours can be so confusing. And clearly should have set up my own freak show and started charging money. And thankfully we don’t get the last two questions anymore.

And of course so many people say “awwwww twins, I’d have loved to have had twins” or “aaaawwww twins I’d love to have twins”. No, no you don’t. No one that has had twins would ever want to have twins. Of course you’d never change the fact that you had them once they’re here but in planning, nooooooooooooooooooooooooo.  And people that have children close together that say “oh mine are so close it’s almost like twins” ah no, no it’s not and you need to stop saying that. STOP SAYING THAT.

So in closing, having twins is hilarious in so many ways, horrible in others and great in the leftover ways. A+ but would not do again.

WHAT’S THE FUNNIEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU?

The Cupcake Whisperer

The Cupcake Whisperer

Bec Pobjie describes herself as:
“33 years old married to Ben Pobjie. Mumma to three great kids, twin girls and a boy. Love baking but have no idea WTF to be when I grow up. Swears a lot, idiot.”

I can attest, your Honour, that all these things are true, except the idiot bit (although maybe Bec is calling US all idiots so that could also be true). Bec is the Cupcake Whisperer and makes amazing things to put in your face-hole.

You can read her ranty blog of rants here, connect with her on Twitter here, and view her amazing baking skills here. I recommend her baking services for all your face-hole needs.**

* Bloody Fabulous Female
** Makes a note to re-phrase that.

Suicidal kitchen appliances, alien life forms and why I’m never making cake pops again

This story of suicidal kitchen appliances and alien life forms is sponsored by The Good Guys Kitchens. Please keep reading – I need your help!

As domestic goddesses go, I make a pretty good blogger.

I’m about as domestic as the average not-very-domestic-thing*.


I’m not good at keeping my house neat or organised, and I’m not at all handy.


However, those of you who follow me on Twitterwill know that I like to cook.


I’m not too shabby at it and I have some nifty kitchen appliances. The kitchen is my favourite room in my house.


I’m one of those annoying people who tweet photos of food they’ve created, like this gorgeous cake:



Or like these wonderful cake pops:



Yes, those are mutant cake pops and they’re in the bin, where they belong.


I tried to melt the poorly-named “melts” in the microwave, as instructed. Suddenly the microwave started making pop, hiss and bang noises, accompanied by a suitably dramatic light show.


Cake pop melts don’t melt on the stove top, even over a bowl of gently boiling water. False advertising if you ask me.


White ones turn to concrete.


Blue ones start to melt, then turn to weird blue glue that won’t attach itself to the outside of a cake pop. No matter how hard you scream, cry or swear.


I couldn’t give those splodgy blotchy blue monstrosities to other people’s children, so in the bin they went. Next to them went the red melts which no doubt would have melted perfectly on the stove top but by that time I was ready to murder the inventor of the cake pop with one of the handy plastic cake pop sticks supplied so helpfully in the kit.


Breathe.


The new, firework-free microwave** is now installed and I’ll be checking the state of mind of all my kitchen appliances regularly to avoid any more suicidal mid-baking-disasters.


It makes me wonder about the rest of my kitchen. We live in a hundred-year-old-house that’s starting to fall apart.


I am as handy as I am domestic, and our house needs some love.***


The last person who renovated our house did it all themselves – clearly without the help of experts like The Good Guys Kitchens. Witness the lack of ventilation under the house. Witness the non-existent ground drainage. Witness the inexorable progress of our house down the hill on which it was built. Oh the humanity.

Thanks to ill-advised DIY renovations, despite keeping my house clean, a new life form is growing on our kitchen bench top. The idiotperson who renovated our house used very poor varnish on the wood**** and it’s deteriorating. The varnish is now sticky, so when you pick paperan appliance your hand something up off the bench, nine times out of ten you’ll find it’s fused in place for posterity. Next to the sink, water permeates the wood and has created Fred:



Fred is a new alien life form. Or maybe mould.


Whatever he is, he’s big and ugly and growing each day. At this rate our house will soon be nothing but a large brown stain with a car port.


We need a kitchen renovation. In the meantime does anyone know how to remove Fred? 

Failing that, does anyone speak alien mould?


What renovation disasters have you seen?


* I was thinking maybe a big cat, like a Cheetah. Although apparently they’re actually the biggest of the small cats. I know they’re the only large cat that purrs, because I’ve heard one. Then I realised a Cheetah is fast and I am built for comfort, not speed, and then this whole comparison thing broke down. 


** So far.


*** And new drainage, floorboards, weatherboards, cupboards and bench tops. Love is definitely not all you need.


**** Yes badly-sealed wooden bench tops in a wet area. I don’t. Even. What?