home made moisturising body bars, lip balm for your body

Moisturising Body Bars: Homemade Gifts Your Kids Can Make (That People will actually like and use!)

Let’s get moist and supple with these body bars!

Everyone knows that homemade gifts are the best. Making a gift (or forcing your child to do it) shows the recipient that you care.

Hooray you!  You took the time to create something especially for someone that you love!

It also makes you looks fantastic when you put photos of these gorgeous body bars on Instagram and facebook.

But lets be serious here. If you get a 5 year old to create a gift, it’s not something that anyone wants to display in their house (though if you must display kids art, here are some tips)

Why not get your children to make a gift that will actually be used and appreciated?

And best of all, once it’s used it disappears and will no longer be cluttering up your poor brother in laws house!

home made moisturiser in bar form

That’s where these amazing moisturising body bars come in!

What’s a body bar? 

Think of it as a hard moisturizing stick. Like a lip balm for your whole entire body!  And you probably have all of the ingredients that you need already in your house! **

**if you’re a bee keeper or some type of weirdo that collects beeswax, otherwise go to a fancy candle making store, or grab some off ebay**

Moisturising Body bars really are quite simple.  All you need is 2 ingredients, then any scents/add ons you wish to include.

Cocount oil and beeswax in equal amounts, then voila you’ve got yourself a gorgeous moisturiser in a handy little bar!

We also added some random essential oils I found in the back of my cupboard, and some fresh herbs from the garden (the kids insisted on basil in one batch, so good luck to whichever poor relative/school teacher that is going to go around smelling like some weird chocolate crackle/basil combination for the next few weeks..)

I paired our body bars with some Firework gift cards that I (I mean my children) also made, click here to get the instructions

Ok, on to the instructions.

How to make moisturising body bars:

Melt the beeswax   * when I first tried this, someone told me that you can melt beeswax with a hairdryer.  I thought this would be the safest, most hands on way for my kids to do it, so we gave it a go. 

It probably would work if you had block of beeswax. 

I had small beads of wax.  The hairdryer blew them all. Over. My. House. The kids thought it was hilarious, I drank a big glass of wine..

Put your damn wax in the microwave.

Depending on how big the batch of body bars that you’re making is, microwave for about 30 second bursts.  Once its nearly all melted, put your coconut oil in too and give it another zap.  Your moisturising body bars are nearly done!

Add your little smelly bits (fresh herbs, dried herbs, essential oils, whatever floats your boat..) then pour everything into a mold.  Small silicone ones are the best, but I’ve also used cookie cutters on a flat tray.

moisturising body bars in a heart shaped mould
Just imagine that the hearts are up the right way, I can’t be bothered turning the picture around just for you..

Chuck it in the fridge to set (you should probs grab yourself a wine while the fridge is open, us mum’s are known for our multitasking skills after all)

The next step is my favourite, chill with your wine(s) for 20 mins then pop your moisturisers out of the moulds.

moisturising body bars being removed from their mould by Pimp My Pigsty

Valentines/Christmas/birthday/I’m a pretentious mum that does craft presents hand made by the kids done!

moisturiser in bar form being handmade

Body Bars that feel so good to rub all over your old dry, cracked body! Totally easy, and not in the least messy at all, I swear *

*Mrs. Piggy takes no responsibility for any of you fools that actually attempt this project with children.  Kids are monsters, and should not be given anything.  Ever, at all..*

We chucked the finished body bars in some left over cups from the kids birthday party, and made some firework card information notes

moisturising body bars and firework cards handmade by the kids of Pimp My Pigsty
waste not, want not. I’m environmental, not cheap…

** Also, as much as all the ingredients are food safe and non-toxic (I hope). I do not recommend giving these lovely, heart shaped coconutty smelling little morsels to your forgetful grandmother in the nursing home.. trust me on this, you just don’t want to do it..

Love Mrs. Piggy

Want to see the firework cards that Mrs. Piggy used to label these bad boys?  Click here

See her other amazing kid related ideas

Or go for something completely different (it’s more fun than what you should be doing) and take our quiz and see if your kids think you’re old

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Mrs. Piggy Reviews: Backyard Chickens

I sit on my back patio with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee.

Well, I’m about to sit before I realise that there is a large black and white gift from one of my chicken friends steaming away on my favourite seat.

Chickens are lovely, fluffy creatures, but their poop is not.

I get a cloth and wipe up the fragrant mess. As I’m putting the cloth in the laundry I notice white spots approximately stride length apart along the floor.

I’ve managed to walk through another “gift” from the chickens. I follow the trail all the way into the house, wiping it clear as I go.

She stares me down creeping closer and closer to the open door

I turn around to get back to my peaceful deck and delicious coffee, only to come face to face with Gertrude, our fluffiest chicken, and best layer.

She stares me down creeping closer and closer to the open door.

I usually take the food scraps down to our brood at 10am. It’s is now 10:10 and the ladies are obviously starved and about to die, because right behind Gertrude are our 3 other chickens ruffling their feathers at me, letting me know that I am late and they are not impressed.

I get the bucket of food scraps and think longingly of my coffee as I head towards their enclosure (the one they supposedly can’t get out of) shaking the scrap container as I go.

If chickens had ears, they would have pricked up as much as a young puppy that just heard a slobbery tennis ball bounce off the sidewalk.

I hate food wastage, so love feeding all of our daily food scraps to our feathery brood, and they obviously love eating it – even the left over chicken carcass from last nights soup.

“Hurry up!”
Who said owning backyard chickens was a relaxing hobby?

I lead my brood back to their enclosure, as if I am some sort of magical pied piper of chickens. They would follow me right into the slaughterhouse if I shook their feed bucket along the way.

Once I throw all of the scraps down, I watch in amusement as Gertrude races to the chicken carcass, picks it up in her beak and scurries away with it. She reminds me of Gollum. She has just got her claws on the golden ring, her precious (and she is not unwittingly becoming a cannibal for her owners simple amusement).

I head over to their nesting box and open the lid.

As usual, there are only 3 eggs in there. Someone is not pulling their weight, and I have my suspicions which lady it is..

I take the eggs, making sure that I close the gate on their enclosure, then put their delicious fresh eggs into the kitchen. I head back to my now extremely cold coffee.

I contemplate microwaving it, but before I make up my mind I hear a squark and a squeal.

Houdini has nothing on our lovely lady “Cluck Norris”. She has once again managed to get out of her enclosure, and into the neighbours yard.

I hear the 3 year old next door giggling and chatting to our little Clucky as she chases her around their yard.

I put my coffee down once again, and head over to the neighbours house with a basket of fresh eggs as an apology/peace offering.

Holding Cluck Norris/Houdini I inspect her wings. Yep, still clipped.

I do not know how she manages to get out of her enclosure and into the neighbours yard on a weekly basis, yet here we are again.

On my way back to the chicken coop (again) I spot something out of the corner of my eye.

I put Clucky down and reach into our large, ornamental pot plant. Brushing the fan shaped leaves aside, I discover a gigantic pile of eggs.

Unbenknownst to us, “Cluck Norris” has obviously been escaping her enclosure on a daily basis, foregoing her wonderfully maintained, very cosy nesting box, to lay all of her eggs in one of our pot plants.

I fill a basket with my new egg cache, and head back to my coffee, before remembering that I did not put Clucky back into her enclosure.

Jackpot! I found all of Cluck Norris’s eggs!

I grab the now empty food scrap box and walk towards our chicken jail. “Cluck Norris” spots the box and races into her enclosure as I open the gate for her.

I triumphantly show Clucky that the scrap box was empty, and actually feel pretty darn smug that I managed to outsmart a chicken!

I grab my ice cold coffee once again.

I take a sip, then tip the rest over the balcony.

I’m going to make an omelette instead.

Owning backyard chickens – almost as time consuming as having a toddler.

But at least you get fresh eggs.


3 stars.

Want to see some of Mrs. Piggy’s other reviews? Click here

Do you have a burning question that you would love Mrs. Piggy’s help with? Email her at info@pimpmypigsty.com, and let her solve all of your problems!

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Mrs. Piggy Reviews: Game of Thrones

Sex. Murder. War. Stab stab.


Sex sex, dragons.

Sex with dragons?

Stab stab, die!


As a game, Game of Thrones is not particularly interactive or fun.

As a show, meh.

As a throne, well my couch is more comfortable.

I’d rather Brooklyn 99 any day.

Game of Thrones


2 stars.

Do you have a burning question that you would love Mrs. Piggy’s help with? Email her at info@pimpmypigsty.com, and let her solve all of your problems!

Or read some other suckers people’s problems here

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Mrs. Piggy Reviews: Kids Parties

I stand there, present in hand, nervously shaking as a loud dinosaur screeches in my ear.

The door opens and the volume goes up.  suddenly there are dinosuars (and one fairy princess) everywhere.  Roaring, screeching and wailing.  a small T-Rex begins violently yanking the present from my nervous hands, while the spinosuarus I birthed 8 years ago dashes past me roaring loudly, but completely ignoring the birthday monster (I mean dinosaur) standing at the front entrance.

T-Rex manages to get ahold of the present and runs off with what must have been about 700 hurricane making dinosaurs, leaving me shaken and shell shocked standing by myself in the doorway.

I peer inside the house nervously.  would it be acceptable to cut and run now?  I’m sure T-Rexy’s mum will notice my kid has arrived before he decides to go on a neighbourhood dinosaur rampage..  maybe I’d better say hi, just in case.

Hello!?  I call out as I step into the crepe papered jungle.  A green streamer tickles the back of my neck as what sounds like a triceratops being BBQued alive wails eerily in the empty hallway.

I step over a mountain of discarded wrapping paper, noting a scrunched up piece of the ridiculously expensive wrap I spent approximately 3 hours taping around the birthday boys pretentious present off his pretentious gift registry.

I turn a corner and see what must be a life sized brontosaurus with its head sticking out a window.


Still no adults.  Or little dinosaurs for that matter.

“Hello?”  I call again.

A scream.

It came from out the back.  I head through to the door.

I take a quick look around, two adults dressed in khacky green dinosaur suits.  Are they the parents?

three fights, one crying toddler… but no other tall people

I look the other way, three fights, one crying toddler, what looks like an upturned bowl of something brown and gooey, but no other tall people.

I look back to the dinosaurs.  one is clutching a beer bottle like his life depended on it, the other is looking from one child to the next with a look of abject terror on her face.

Yep they’re the parents.  A twinge of sympathy comes over me.  giant themed party with only two adults.  Rookie mistake.

Maybe I should stay and help them.  A loud and familiar scream pierces my ears, and my little spinosorous runs past holding something that looks suspiciously like a childs asthma puffer.

Nope, I’m out of here.

I wave towards the beer holding dinosaur, he’s my best bet for a quick escape.

I point from my young dinosaur progeny to my watch.  “Got to go”  I mouth.  “back at 5.”

Then before beerosauraus can start lumbering towards me I turn tail and run as fast as I can.


Kids parties, the first few minutes are a mixture of fear and adrenaline, but then you get to abandon even your own children and go to the bar for a few hours.


4 stars.

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I Quit Sugar

Hello my chipper chinchillas!

Are you feeling bloated?

Do you need to lose a touch of weight?

Or are you just feeling flat?  Sort of like a beached whale, laying there waiting for someone to push you back into the ocean of your life?

You’re not the only one.

Just by looking at the Pimp My Pigsty team, I can tell you that they need my help.  And what better way for me, Bambi Dollinger-Tart, resident health, fitness and all round instaguru to make them better than to force them all to go on the latest internet diet?


Sugar is evil, so we all quit it!

Below is our weekly journal of our journey.  Our Journeal if you will, my vivacious voles.


Bambi: I feel great!  No sugar in my latte this morning, but that’s ok.  Everyone knows that sugar will kill your libido and it’s not worth that sacrifice!

Philip Guava Tapeworm:  Today is my meditation day. I only eat mushrooms harvested from the field of peace.  There is no added sugar in the field of peace.  I am at one with the field. Sugar is not necessary.

Mrs Piggy:  As long as I have caffeine I don’t care if there’s sugar.

Skye:  Yeah, I got this, everyone knows sugar sucks.  Got my 10am frappuccino, ready for the sugar free day.  Bamabi: frappuccinos’ have about 20 teaspoons of sugar. Skye: Shit, I’ll start tomorrow.

DAY 2:

Bambi Dollinger-Tart: I missed my afternoon blueberry muffin yesterday, but I can make this work for me!  Today I will have a bowl of natural yoghurt with some fresh blueberries to hit that sweet need.

Philip Guava Tapeworm:  Today I am protesting the deforestation of my neigbours back yard.  I will forage my food as I peacefully protest.  I don’t believe grass and dried dog food has added sugar.

Mrs. Piggy: Damn.  Give me more coffee, I’ll be right.

Skye:  All good, I’ll just grab a tub of strawberry yoghurt.  This is easy.  Bambi Dollinger-Tart: A tub of yghurt can contain up to 8 teaspoons of sugar.  Skye:  Damn.. ill start tomorrow

DAY 3:

Bambi Dollinger-Tart:  I’m starting to miss my sugar.  If I power through, I will feel better, and probably even lose some weight! I can do this!!

Philip Guava Tapeworm:  Today I am teaching my natural living class.  As a part of this I teach my students to cook fermented food that they grow naturally on their own bodies.  Vagina coconut yoghurt and yeasty toe jam have minimal sugar.

Mrs. Piggy:  I gave the kids and husband chocolate cake to shut them up.  I drank vodka straight from the bottle.  I’m pretty sure that’s got no added sugar.

Skye:  I’ve got this shit. Ate great all day!  Celebrated with a couple of cocktails with my bitches! Bambi Dollinger-Tart: cocktails can contain up to 15 teaspoons of sugar.  Skye: Fuck it, I’m out.  Have fun on your sugar free, fun free life!!

DAY 4:

Bambi Dollinger-Tart:  I woke up this morning, and just for a second, my boyfriend’s face looked like a pink iced donut with a chocolate frog sitting in the middle.  Just for a second.  Then I woke up and ate my celery stick and had my joy free – I mean sugar free coffee.

sometimes you need to do the painful things to grow… and not get evicted

Philip Guava Tapeworm:  Today is the day I visit my mother.  She cooked up a lamb roast with all of the trimmings, and made a blackforest cake for desert.  She talked of the effort that she put into making me this food, as she transferred the rent money for my yurt to my landlord.  I ate the sugar (and the lamb) sometimes you need to do the painful things to grow and learn as a spiritual being, and not get evicted.  Namaste, and I’m out.

Mrs. Piggy:  Turns out even though there is sugar in wine, it’s not “added.”  I drank wine for lunch.  I’m not sorry.

DAY 5:

Bambi Dollinger-Tart: This is harder than I thought it would be, my delectable danishes.  I can’t stop thinking of food.  Of sugar laden food.  It was supposed to be getting easier by day 5.  The cravings should have ended.

Mrs. Piggy:  Vodka for breakfast for the win!

DAY 6:

Bambi Dollinger-Tart:  I licked a strangers shirt on the bus.  It looked like a chocolate smear.  It was not

Mrs. Piggy: Rum has no added sugar!  Neither does mead!

Bambi and her fight against the evil sugar cravings

DAY 7:

Mrs Piggy:  I felt bad for Bambi. She obviously doesn’t know how to hack this “no added sugar” thing like I do.

I gave her a bottle of sugar cane juice (no added sugar!!) and a bottle of vodka.  She’ll be fine in no time!

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Mrs. Piggy reviews coffee

Mrs. Piggy Reviews: Coffee

I wake up bleary eyed and exhausted, memories of nursing the baby for half the night flashing through my mind.

Then I remember all 3 (or do I have 4?) of my children are well past the baby stage.

Vodka, that’s right, I was nursing a bottle of vodka half the night.

I reach for a coffee capsule and place it in the blessed machine.

One of the children’s bedroom doors open and what looks like an abominable snowman wanders out.

I take a deep sigh and hit the button on the coffee machine. It spurts to life and demands a rinse cycle.

I swear under my breath as I hit rinse, and the miraculous caffeine trickles out along with the rinse water, wasted.

Another door opens and I put a second capsule into the machine.

coffee capsules ready to make delicious coffee
The only reason Mrs. Piggy Reviewed coffee is so that she had an excuse to drink more of it..

A child mumbles something to me and I grunt back, hitting the coffee machine a bit too hard. The delicious aroma of coffee fills the room as my coffee pours into the dirty rinse cup, not the coffee cup that seems to be mocking me from it’s still clean, still empty position in my hand.

Another door opens and I look around in panic, how many damn kids do I have?

I can’t do this without caffeine. I grab a jar of instant coffee and a spoon, and shovel a handful of the dry flakes directly into my mouth.

I close my eyes while chewing the dry, almost toxic granules and attempt to ignore all of the voices and movement around me. I feel the coffee kick in.  Just a bit.  Now I have the brain capacity to figure out this damn coffee machine.

I rinse down the dry coffee with some wet coffee and make another one.

One of the Children say something and I look at him. It’s the abominable snowman. The caffeine must be working. He’s still a disgusting teenager, but now the hair that’s standing up on his head looks adorable, and I smile at him.

reviewed coffee capsules in a heart shape

Mr Piggy (who must have gotten up while I was chewing dried coffee with my eyes closed) smacks my butt as he walks past.

I don’t kill him.

Caffiene is pretty miraculous.

Mrs. Piggy Reviews:

Coffee. For when you can’t get your hands on your kids Ritalin tablets

5 stars


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Mrs. Piggy asleep on the couch with feather duster

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