I got a note

in my mailbox yesterday.

It basically said that the street in which we live (it is a court) "does" Halloween, and if we wanted to take part to put the enclosed streamers on the letterbox and if we had kids and wanted to go around to meet at the neighbour's house at 5.

Now I have never been trick or treating. Ever. I have seen it done. I have heard about it being done. Never taken part.

The kids have never trick or treated.

I was going to not go.

And then my neighbour texted me to ask if I was going.

I really had no good excuse why we couldn't. So I said sure. Why not.

So then I had to do all the follow-on. I had to explain to the kids what trick or treating was. I had to tell them that they got to dress up and ask them what they wanted to dress up as, guiding them ever so gently (not) into dressing up as something for which we already had a costume.

Miss 5 was Rapunzel. I made the wig for book week some months back. I am going to encourage Rapunzel dressing as much as I possibly can. It took me that long to make the wig, we are going to get as much wear out of it as possible.

Miss 4 was Snow White. We had the dress. Fabulous.

Master 3 was Mike the Knight. He just happened to have been given a Mike the Knight sword and shield for his birthday.

Cool. Costumes. Sorted.

Went to Woolies and got some lollipops.

Candy. Sorted.

So then began the countdown. From when we picked up Miss 5 from school.

They got changed as soon as they got in the door. And then it began.

"Is it time to go yet?"

"No darl, still over an hour to go."

Minutes pass.

"How about now?? Is it time to go yet?"

"Still an hour to go Miss."

Several more minutes pass and Miss 4 looks at me all smiles and says "I am just SO excited to be going treat walking!!!"

Sensational.

To cut a long story short, then next hour was incredibly long, and full of questions. And then 5pm arrived and it was time to go. So we did. Across the road and ready to start.

At the first house the kids didn't really quite know what to expect. They stood at the door and someone put some candy in their little baskets, which I might add were not Halloween baskets. They were Easter baskets. Seriously, a basket is a basket. I'm not buying Halloween baskets when I have perfectly good Easter baskets sitting there idly doing nothing until next March or April.

Anyway, by the third house they were loving it. LOVING it.

So. Much. Candy.

The best part was seeing how excited they were. And there was an added bonus. It was a fabulous way to get to meet some of the other kids and parents in the street. Really fabulous.

But without a doubt my favourite part, excitement aside, was Miss 5.

At every house we visited (only the ones with the streamers on the letterbox obviously) the kids were given little treats.

And at every house Miss 5 took one of the lollies from her basket and gave it to the person giving out the lollies.

And my heart. Just. Melted.

What a beautiful little child.

And the moments like that are what we need to hold onto when the same child, an hour later, comes down from a massive sugar rush like a base jumper.

Life is never dull.

I'm not winking at you.

My eye is twitching again.

Why? Oh, possibly because 2 out of 3 children decided that around 4.45am was a fabulous time to join me in my bed. And then strike up a conversation.

Um. No. Kids. No. Uh uh. If you are in my bed you are sleeping. Otherwise go back to your own bed, go watch tv, go anywhere else except where I am, trying to sleep.

They didn't. They didn't listen. And I was hardly in the mood for it. Hardly at all.

And so I just gave up, went to the kitchen, and put the kettle on.

"Are you making coffee?"

"Yes baby."

"Are you going to have a shower?"

"Yes baby."

"After your coffee?"

"Yes baby."

"Are you going to have two coffees?"

"Yes, I think I need to."

"Oh. And then are you going to have a shower?"

"Yes baby."

"Can I have a hug before you have your shower?"

"Of course."

"Are you having coffee?"

"Yes baby."

Repeat. Incessantly. Until my coffee was finished. And then I tried to get to the shower wherein the apparent magnetic field in my body switched on, thus causing all three children to be drawn to my legs like seagulls to a chip. And they hung on.

"I want a hug!!!"

"No, IIIIIIII want a hug!!!"

"You can all have a hug."

"But I want a kiss too."

"You can all have a kiss too."

"Muuuuuuum I want a huuuuuuug."

"Guys. I'm going to have a shower. I'm not leaving the country."

"Hug! Hug!! Hug!!!"

Nice to be loved but seriously kids, get off me. I need a shower. And I'm tired because you annoyed me this morning. I'm not in the mood.

It didn't stop. Master 3 standing in the bathroom.

"Mum, I want a hug."

"Baby, I'm in the shower."

"But I want a hug!"

"I'll give you a hug when I get out of the shower."

"But I want a hug!"

"I'll give you a hug when I get out of the shower."

Annnnnnnd repeat.

Sigh.

Work was good. Got a few things finalised. Love that. Leftovers from yesterday's lunch for lunch today so not a penny was spent (hurrah!).

And when I went to pick up the kids it started almost as soon as I saw them. The whining.

Note to self: Check phases of the moon calendar app thing.

Ok I couldn't wait. I checked. Interestingly enough it is almost completely opposite to a full moon. Perhaps the effect is the same.... full or empty..... empty moon. I like that. I'm going to use that again.

Tonight we read a lot. I like reading to the kids. Books are fabulous. Miss 5's reading has improved hugely so she is now reading pretty long books with lots of words in them. Miss 4 is still reading really well but has her own books that are just a little easier than Miss 5's. They both absolutely belted through tonight's books.

And then we did a storybook. Master 3 picked it. One of his truck books. And we are reading and making sounds and my lips are about to fall off from saying brrmmmmmm repeatedly and then we turn a page and the concrete truck has my name. Wow. There you go. First time I see my name in a book and I'm a concrete truck.

And apparently I go swish swish plop.

Can't say that would be the sound effect I would go for given the choice but, well, concrete trucks can't be choosers apparently.

The tactics to delay bedtime are changing somewhat. For Master 3 anyway. There was the obligatory "But I wanted to find *insert random toy name here* to take to bed tonight."

"You haven't played with that for ages."

"But I want to take it to bed with me." *said in whiny little I can cry at any minute and you know I can* tone.

So we find the toy.

"Now go to bed and go to sleep please. Nigh night, love you."

Pause.

A little longer.

"Muuuuuuuuuuum?"

"What is it darling?" *said far less sweetly than it sounds when you simply read it*

"I need to tell you something."

Audible. Sigh. From me obviously. And I go to his room.

"When I'm 10...... could you please buy me a watch? One with numbers on it?"

"If you go to sleep right now then yes, I will."

"Ok, nigh night."

Holy crap. If only it were that simple!!!!

Pause.

A little longer.

"Muuuuuuuuuum? Will I be 10 after I have a sleep?"

"Yes baby. A long time after you have a sleep, but yes, after you have a sleep, eventually you will be 10."

And then he bleated. For a good 5 minutes. Lying with his pillow on top of him, as he does.

And then silence.

My eardrums are literally still ringing from the noise levels today. And I have that little pain just above my left eye.

And my left elbow is itchy. Ooooh bonus!!! That means I'm coming into money doesn't it??

Oh. No. Wait.

Never mind. I'll just believe that that is what it means.

Hope springs eternal......

I don't understand

how no matter what time I get up on the days I am working we always seem to be running late.

Always.

So much so that we can be getting ready to go somewhere on a Saturday and I will be buzzing around, as you do, looking for shoes and bags and whatnot and Master 3 will say "Are we running late?"

Odds are the answer is yes.

So all the minis went back to school today. It was eventful.

I'll give you the background. Master 3 only recently turned 3. In turning 3 he had to move rooms at daycare. He didn't really like this so much. He and three other little boys are in a little bit of a "crowd". And the other three little boys were not moving room. By now at least one has, but that is not really the point. At that particular time, when Master 3 was going to move rooms, he was doing it without his 3 little mates.

He was not happy.

To be honest I don't really blame him. Don't get me wrong, he always had a great time in the new room, but his mates were still in the old room.

So cue today. A mere 2 weeks following his change of room.

They have changed his room. Not him personally. The entire pre-kinder. So instead of being upstairs they are now downstairs. In what was the kinder room. So essentially Master 3 and Miss 4 have switched rooms.

My, wasn't that fun? Yes. No. No it was not.

Because then Miss 4 didn't want to stay in the new room because it wasn't the kinder room. Master 3 was in the kinder room, and she wanted to be in that room. Not the pre-kinder room.

Oh yes. It is that complex in the mind of young folks.

So anyway, I had to leave them both in a state of less than supreme happiness, which I hate. I abhor it in fact. And every time I have to leave them like that a little part of me dies inside and I always, ALWAYS get a tear in my eye.

And still have to drop Miss 5 at school.

So we get to her school and walk into her classroom and her teacher says "Who is this??! What is YOUR name? We don't even recognize you anymore!!" And Miss 5 says "It's ME!!!!" and runs around ensuring everyone knows that it really is her and she is back.

She missed a week. A whole week. That is an eternity in the life of a grade prep child.

She forgot her library book too. At least she only left it in the car. Not like the time she forgot her hat. And it was at home. And, funnily enough, we were already running late.... But I went and got it for her because I didn't want her to not be able to play outside. I have done worse.... When I accidentally put her in the wrong uniform one day (full winter uniform instead of sport uniform) I came back from working in the city, brought her uniform to her, and then went back to work in the city. 2 hour round trip.

You wouldn't have done it?

Maybe not. But she had been at her new school all of a week and I just didn't want her to feel "different" any more than she probably already did. And she is my baby. And I hate that she is upset at any time. And to be honest, if it was me, I would want my mum to bring the right uniform for me.

That is the best part about my new job - I am literally 4km from her school. So if something does happen, I can be there in a flash. I just adore that. Because she, and my other two babies, are my world. I do love my work, but it is so far behind in priority than my family.

Anyway, I digress, just for something new.

Big day at work, good to see.

Then pick up the mini folks from the new rooms and all was good so it would seem.

All was good on picking up Miss 5 from school.

And then we get home. And I dare to say it is Miss 4's day.

Well, Miss 5 had a dramatic episode. To say the least. Probably my favourite part of that was where she knelt down on the grass, bum in the air, just as a car drove past, and at almost exactly the same time as Master 3 tried to get something from Miss 4, unsuccessfully, and cracked a massive tanty. Right there. On the street.

I love it when that happens. When as soon as we get home, 1, 2 or all 3 lose their minds and start screaming, or hitting, or throwing themselves around madly.

And I just will them to get the hell inside so at least the neighbours don't see.

I'm sure they've seen.

I'm sure they've judged.

Meh.

And so the night was a night. Tantrums were had, pocks were treated with cream, and reading was done.

And they all went to bed. Eventually.

My eye is twitching.

It does that sometimes.

And the number of times it does it is directly proportional to the number of meltdowns, tantrums, episodes of toy-throwing madness that occur in a day.

Coincidence?

Oh yes. Coincidence. Suuuure it is.

"How many slaves does Santa have?"

"Elves, baby, they are called elves."

"Oh. Ok. So how many ELVES does Santa have then?"

I love it when they don't quite get words right. Or pronunciation. Because it is just super adorable. Which is why every now and then I teach them a new word which I know is going to be hard, just to see how they go with it. If they get it, fabulous, new word, and good one. If they don't, well, seriously bloody great entertainment.

Cruel? Hell no. Educational.

And a bit funny for mummy. Gimme a break, I'm a single mum, I have to shake it up somehow. I don't get out much.

At dinner tonight, Master 3 was "fimished", so he said.

And so I went to take the plate.

"Actually, no, I'm not fimished. I'll just eat that."

"Ok then."

"Yes, actually, I am finished."

Yes. And again it becomes apparent that I may use the word "actually" a tad bit much.

This becomes even more apparent when one looks at the new game the kids have.

They run across the room, stop for a second then say "actually, over there" and run to a different spot, wherein they say "actually, over there" and run to a different spot. Yes. It is fabulous.

This "actually" also extends to choosing. Anything. T-shirts. Food. Anything. I have mentioned this before. I know. But it is constant.

My eye is twitching. I can't work out whether it is because I am tired or because of today's events.

Today was pock check day. We needed clearance.

I had warned the kids that we needed to get to the doctor early. Having everyone sleep in till 7.30am was not part of that plan, though I must admit was quite welcome, even though three of those people were in my bed.

Still. It counts.

And so my plans to be out of the house by 8 were shattered. They were shattered further when Master 3 refused to decide upon which jacket he was going to wear. And then didn't like his socks "Actually, I think I want the black pair." (goddamn actually).

And then the shoes.

And so we finally got out of the door just after 10.

I didn't bring enough food. Again. But it was enough for the start part. Enough for one woman to walk past us and say "You have beautiful children, and so well behaved."

Yes. Bribed with food. Sue me. It works.

Until. The food. Runs out.

And I stupidly let Master 3 bring his Mike the Knight shield and sword with him.

What. The hell. Was I thinking. Seriously.

And in case you wondered, if a 3 year old is lying on the ground holding his sword aloft and said sword drops and hits him in the face, he will get a black eye. Fairly instantly.

And for the record, the crying and screaming will not assist in getting you seen any quicker at the doctors.

So after one and a quarter hours, the last 20 minutes thereof filled with Peppa Pig on my iPhone, we were seen.

Mega pock was surveyed and medication was changed to cater to the way in which it was behaving (which was a bit naughty funnily enough).

Other minis were seen to and all good, save for Master 3's ear still showing the signs of infection.

So on that. 3 infections in 5 weeks. Have to take him back in 2 weeks. And if it's back then there's a whole other journey to undertake. Oh the joys. But let's not pre-empt shall we... there is enough going on.

So we got clearance. All kidlets back at school and daycare tomorrow. Fabuloso.

I hate that I got charged for daycare and the kids didn't set foot there all week. I also hate that I had to buy them food while I was effectively being charged for their food at daycare. And they are big eaters.

But them's the breaks I guess.

Master 3 didn't shut up today. At all.

Oh, I apologise, he napped for a nanosecond when we were at Woolies. That was it.

The rest of the time was spent in various noisy ways.

He creates a soundtrack for his life. Today the soundtrack was "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" which he sang pretty well everywhere he went. That and the rainbow song. "Red and lellow and pink and green...". Can't bring myself to pick him up on the "lellow" yet cos it just sounds so damn cute. And the girls pick him up on it. So that's enough.

We had many incidents of "What are you doing?" today.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Folding washing."

"So what do you think I'm doing then?"

"Folding washing."

"That's it! Well done."

Runs off. Screaming braveheart style.

Ten minutes later.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Ironing."

"So what do you think I'm doing?"

"Ironing."

"Well done, I AM ironing."

"Good old Collingwood foreeeeeever....." *runs off* as I have an aneurysm because I can't stand Collingwood, and Miss 4 hears my mental struggle and starts saying "No" and singing the Geelong theme song.

Oh yes. A tormented house is this. All because I barrack for Geelong and their father barracks for Collingwood. Miss 5 has it sussed. When she is with me she goes for Geelong, and when with him she goes for Collingwood. I asked her what happens when both teams play one another and she said "I'll just barrack for both." Love her to bits.

Every time I saw Master 3 today though it was noisy. He is a noisy child.

I walk into the room he is in "Hello again!"

"Hi baby how are you?"

"GOOD!"

*starts running off* "Bye bye!!!!"

And off he goes.

Later on today I was in my bedroom, where there is a full length mirror on one of the cupboards. Master 3 was standing in front of the mirror at the back of the room.

"There I am."

*moves a step to the side*

"Now I'm gone."

*moves back*

"There I am."

*moves a step to the side*

"Now I'm gone."

Yep. One of those kinds of days.

But after we went to the doctor we went to the supermarket. I bought bacon. And three other varieties of deli meat. I have missed deli meat.

And fruit. And vegies. And some ice cream for the kids because all things considered they really had been terribly good today.

And we made it. We made it through quarantine boot camp. Slightly scarred, but alive.

And I can't wait to get to work tomorrow so I can have a break.

Am just so glad my babies are all well again.

Will be more glad once mega pock is entirely gone. But till then, well, Miss 4 is using that as full excuse to come into bed with me.

And to be honest, I really don't mind....

I think my brain broke.

That's really all I've got right now.

I've been holed up in quarantine with these small folks for what seems like a veritable eternity, and am sitting here at the computer and started humming and it was "3 little ducks"... God help me. Seriously.

So the spots have basically all abated. Except for mega pock which is still running the gauntlet. I daresay it is no longer 'contagious' per se, but holy crap, I kid you not, this spot had its own postcode. I'm not usually one for posting photos, but I have to. I just have to. You have to see the one week evolution of this spot beast.

I shall put it at the end of this little spiel just in case you're squeamish.... that'll give you enough time to not look.... or to gingerly let it scroll down so you can kind of half see it without actually seeing see it....

The days have been long of late. Not terrifically exciting, but incredibly long.

We have done stuff. We did pasting. We did those little geleez sticker things. We watched some tv. We played some games. I fed the children a bazillion times.

Note: Encouraging the children to role play is one thing. Hearing them scream "FIRE!" from another room is entirely another. Toy fire engine. Yes. Of course you would shout fire. Of course. And yes, being the drama queen that you are, of COURSE you would sound as though there really actually was a fire.

She is quite the talent actually. Mental note.

I have lost count of the number of inanimate objects that have been reincarnated as flying objects.

Thomas.

A necklace (that one would have stung too).

A disco ball. A small one. But still.

A shoe.

A dinosaur.

Several books.

A football.

Bear in mind all these objects were thrust by a small male. Of which there is only one in this house. And who is a terror. And I called him that. And then subsequently heard him referred to on many occasions as such.... "You are a TERROR you know." "STOP being such a TERROR." "NOOOOOOO YOU ARE A TERROR!!!!!"

Yes. They hear. They repeat. In context.

I have not been able to get to the supermarket for some time. Not ideal. Less than ideal is then missing the online grocery delivery windows.

But we haven't starved, no, not at all. And score of all scores I found a pork belly in the freezer this morning. Sensational.

But I'm missing some of the fresher things. We only have a handful of carrots left, and half a head of broccoli, and some frozen peas.

I need fresh vegies. I really do. And our fruit supply has diminished such that by mid morning tomorrow there will be nothing left.

Now we eat a lot in this household. We being these small children. And a lot of fruit. And also a lot of vegetables. Some of it conscious, some of it unconscious.

What do I mean by that?

This.

I grate cauliflower into everything. You can. You can't see it. You can't taste it. But instant mega hit of vegies. Gold.

I also cut up cabbage very finely and chuck that into things.

I finely grate zucchini. Same deal.

And the best one? I make home made soup. Vegetable soup. With a truckload of vegies in it. And yes, the kids will eat the soup. But I freeze the soup in portions. And I freeze spag bol sauce in portions. So when time to thaw out arrives I put in one portion of spag bol sauce and one portion of vegie soup. Voila. Instant huge vegie hit for the kids and they think they are eating pure meat sauce.

Genius.

Well, I think it's pretty good.

I eat tomatoes like apples. I don't have any left. Terrible.

I love stuff cut into sticks for morning or arvo tea. All we have left is carrot and cucumber. Not enough!

And we have no eggs. No bread. No milk. No anything really. Just freezer food. Prepared meals of which I made extra and froze. Thankfully.

Anyway, tomorrow is D day. Doctor day. Hoping we get clearance for all kids to go back to school and daycare on Monday. Hoping like nobody's business.

If not, well, cross that bridge when we come to it I guess.

We probably could have done more over these few days. I could have packed more activities in. I could have spent more "quality" time with the kids. But to be honest, I couldn't have. Miss 4 is incredibly clingy when she is out of sorts, Miss 5 is melodramatic and Master 3 is off his head.

I did my best.

We are all still alive.

I think that in itself is the proof of that there pudding.

And if the doctor doesn't give us the all clear tomorrow I'll be coming home via the bottle-o.

That is all.


Oh, and I nearly forgot.....


Mega pock....


Be prepared........

I'm not staring.

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not. I'm looking. My eyes are moving so I'm not staring."

That was Miss 5 and my conversation. Then Miss 4 chimed in.

"Look, look at me, am I staring, is this staring?" *stares at me*

"Yes baby, that is staring."

*laughs hysterically*

Cue Master 3.

"Muuuuuum, look, look, am I stirring?" *makes fingers go around and around in a circle* "That's stirring isn't it mum?? Mum?? I'm stirring too!"

Insanely. Cute. And hilarious.

I made fried rice today. We haven't had it for ages. And we have very little food in the house and it is a great way to use those little bits and bobs in the fridge.

Sometimes the kids are a little hyperactive at meal times. On numerous occasions I have found myself saying "Sit properly" or "Back on your seat" or "Sit on your bottom".

Today was no different.

Although it was a little different.

Because today we had fried rice. And when Master 3 was messing around not sitting properly, he inadvertently tumbled a tad, his hand landed on the edge of the bowl of fried rice and promptly flipped it, such that fried rice rained throughout the entire dining room.

He cried.

I removed fried rice from my eyelid and gave him a hug and explained to him that it was for this very reason that I need for him to sit still at mealtimes.

I probably needed to vacuum anyway.

So we are still all housebound. Diseased. Quarantined. But not for long. At the risk of disgusting everyone, mega pock has finally blown it's lid. And there is a substantial hole in Miss 4's stomach. Substantial.

I don't recall any of my chicken pox being like when I had it all those years ago.

This is, well, it is disgusting.

The kids were in the bath tonight when I saw it. It was like a trail. A trail coming from her belly. Coming from mega pock.

And the trail was blood. Mega pock had given up its fight after Miss 4 drowned it in the bath.

So the trick was how to get Miss 4 out of the bath without her being alerted to the fact that mega pock had exploded and she was now bleeding.

It was never going to go well.

I should have thought to ask Miss 5 to play with Master 3 at that time, for it was she who yelled out, quite spectacularly "Oh my GOD you're BLEEDING!" as I lifted Miss 4 out of the bath.

And then the shudders, the shakes, the gutteral spasms as Miss 4 realised that she was, in fact, bleeding.

I deftly grabbed a tissue and placed it gingerly on Miss 4's stomach, wherein it of course became crimson, which then sent out the waves of 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from all parties in the bathroom.

And so I gave Miss 4 the tissue and told her to hold it there while I dried her and got her to the lounge room.

Mere seconds later we were in the lounge room, she removed the tissue, and insta-chasm. Mega pock had fled the scene and there remained a cavity. A hole. I kid you not it was almost an extra belly button. Well perhaps not quite, but ew. I am so bad with these things and I was gagging just looking at it, knowing that I had to keep my cool so as not to freak out mini chick.

God parenting is hard.

Anyway, long story short, I finally convinced Miss 4 that she wasn't dying, pumped her full of Panadol and antibiotics and sent them all to bed.

They say time flies when you are having fun.

The opposite is equally true.

These past two days I could swear have gone for several months.

And on Sunday, once we get the all clear (oh god please let us get the all clear) we are going home via the supermarket.

I need bacon.

I'm too old for this.

I am. And I actually said that same thing, out loud, on several occasions today.

I'll give you a little "preface" to today. If you ask me for how many hours I think the day went, my answer would be 73. Honestly. I kid you not.

It was, without a doubt, the longest day in human history.

It commenced in a not dissimilar fashion to other days, with my turning to my right to see Miss 4 asleep beside me, not too long after that Master 3 crawled in with me on the other side, and a short while later Miss 5 coming in asking if she could have breakfast.

Little did I know that time would effectively stand still and the day would drag more than the ass of a dog with no hind legs.

Don't get me wrong, the day wasn't all bad. We had some really wonderful moments. There were lots of hugs, and lots of tickles, and a fair amount of games.

And Master 3 loves his "row row" wherein I lie on the ground, he sits on my belly, holds my hands and uses my arms as oars, and sings. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. If you see a crocodile, don't forget to to scream AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!"

His scream. Is loud. Incredibly loud. Oh god it was so loud. Over. And over.

So I get up and sit on the chair for a bit, just to get away from the screams. And he follows me, sits on my lap, looks at me, smiles, then farts so loudly the house shakes, laughs, gets off and runs away, screaming, a la Braveheart.

But he didn't have his sword and shield at that time. Oh no. That came later. And I helped him find them. Oh you idiot. Yes. I know. Sue me.

I had a lot of coffee today. I wouldn't have survived without it.

On about my 5th cup I heard odd sounds coming from the foyer. It took me a good 3 or 4 minutes to build up the courage to go out and see what the noise was.

Picture this. Three children. Lying on the ground in the foyer. Kind of like the Mercedes Benz logo. 2 wearing flippers. One holding a fire engine. Swimming.

Oh yes.

Welcome to my world.

There was much singing. To my dismay the Collingwood football club theme song or whatever you call it seemed to get a bit of a run tonight. That is the father's team. Horrific, I know. But all I can do is sing the Geelong song as much as I can and hope it sinks in. It has, to some extent, although the words sometimes morph into something else. It happens with other songs too. Master 3 came out singing "Ring a ring a rosy, octopus a posy." Well, not far off I guess. When you think about it.

I did get a lot done, even though I was occupied with heavily pocked kids for much of the time. I managed to cut Master 3's hair so that was a bonus. Except when he wouldn't stop talking as I was cutting it, with clippers, and so he ended up ingesting a fair amount of the hair. As you do.

And then off he ran and came running back in again holding a beanie. "Is this my beanie??"

"Yes, it is."

"Why doesn't it have Spiderman on it?"

"Because it isn't a Spiderman beanie."

"Oh." Runs off screaming.

We made pipe cleaner bracelets today too. They were actually pretty cool. Not that I'll wear mine to work, but still. Pretty cool. And occupied at LEAST 43 minutes of the day. GOLD.

When Play School came on the telly I nearly cried with joy.

And then of course at "window" time I was summonsed to pick which window I thought it would be. I love the arch window so I very often pick that, but sometimes I'll shake it up and choose the square or circle window. Call me old fashioned but I don't remember the diamond window growing up. I reckon they added that one in. So to me it is always an outsider. Call me windowist, I don't care. Just like those new bloody Wiggles. Seriously?? And don't even get me started on when they replaced the cast of Hi-5.

I gave all the kids a bubble bath tonight. And it was after I put them in it that I realised it was pretty stupid being that Master 3 gets eczema and that is usually aggravated by foreign soapy stuff.

Agh. Typical.

But they loved it.

So much so that they didn't want to get out. And quite obviously were perturbed when I did get them out. Master 3 I dried off and sent off to the lounge room to stay warm near the heater. He didn't make it. He much preferred to stand in the hallway, stark naked, look at me and say "I just did a wee". On the carpet.

Fabulous. The day. Just. Gets. Better.

And so we went through the obligatory fights at teeth time and god knows what else.

And then once they were in bed the doonas and pillows hit the floor so they could make "bed angels" flailing around like fish out of water.

And I have never, ever been so glad to hear the sounds of sleep as I was tonight.

Today was officially the longest day in history.

And tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.

Give. Me. Strength.

Thomas is incredibly aerodynamic.

You wouldn't think it. But he is. And this particular Thomas is rather weighty too, being that he is a "pushing" engine.

And when said aerodynamic Thomas projects himself in the direction of an infected chicken pox lesion, well, let's just say tears follow. Many tears. Hysterical tears. And the comment by Master 3 that "It has jam on it." "That's blood little man. You drew blood." Blank stare.

So today was one of those days. They happen fairly regularly.

After having had the kids returned to me this morning after staying with he who rarely has them stay, enormous cuddles followed. And then the obligatory how is everyone, did you have fun, what did you get up to, and, of course, how are the spots.

And that was when I saw it.

It. A hideous, horrific, almost sickening sight. Miss 4's tummy pock was obviously infected. Largely. And so the first thing I did was to phone the clinic we had attended on Friday night to ask if it was okay for me to bring a handful of diseased children there. They agreed and said they would isolate us again, and off we went.

So we got there. Bundled into isolation but hang on a tic.... there is someone in there.... just wait in the hall..... "Mum, I'm hungry"... whip out a meusli bar for everyone..... get bundled into a room that was previously locked.... meusli bars are finished and in God's name why the hell did I not bring more food???? What. The actual. Insert swear word here.

I can tell you that keeping a 5, 4 and 3 year old entertained in a doctor's office is far more difficult than you would imagine. Aside from the obvious boredom, this doctor's office had a veritable myriad of drawers and cupboards, all of which contained things that small children should not touch. Ever.

And there is a computer. Yes, it was turned off. Following on from Master 3 expertly "typing" on the keyboard whilst attempting to do a full 360 on the swivel chair.

Twice a doctor walked past and said to us to be careful of the plastic mat which was broken, and then some minutes later in rocked the receptionist to remove said plastic mat.

And then children decided to hide behind the bed. And under the desk. And behind the bed. And under the desk.

And then Master 3 hid behind the bed, stuck his head up and, red faced, announced quite loudly "I'm doing a poo. Right now."

Thanks little man. Really.

"It's coming."

Great. I'm overjoyed.

And so in addition to attempting to restrain the children from removing everything from everywhere and essentially trashing the office, it was now being filled with a pungent odour that was getting stronger and stronger. And stronger.

And it was around then that Master 3 spotted a sultana on the floor, reached over, picked it up and said "Look!" and just as he was about to place it into his mouth I leapt across the room, as though I was the bodyguard putting myself between a bullet and its intended target and the sultana was flung to the ground.

Good. Lord.

And so it was nearly an hour before we finally saw a doctor. It was the same doctor we had seen on Friday night thankfully, as Miss 4 is not so fond of doctors.

So we all had a turn. Miss 5 went first. She has chickenpox. Fever. General stuff. No drugs.

Then me. I am on shingle watch. No drugs. I'll live.

Then Master 3. Still has an ear infection. Also chicken pox. Still on antibiotics. All good.

Then Miss 4. Tricky one. She wasn't too impressed. Again. Fabulous. But the doctor was great, made her feel as relaxed as anyone that wasn't me or the kids could make her feel, and I convinced her to lift her t-shirt to reveal the spot, and she did. And yep. Drugs. As you do.

So we got out of there, went to the chemist, and I bribed the kids with lollipops. Who cares. It worked.

The day was a long one. I think it is fair to say that.

We made 10 or so t-shirts. Made in that we bought the t-shirts and with stencils and fabric paint went hell for leather.

Note. If you are painting using stencils, don't put the t-shirts down to dry and forget to remove the stencils. They will stick. And you will then spend an hour, four hours later, with a pair of tweezers trying to remove the cardboard. Unless you wisely outlaid that bit extra for plastic stencils.

Note to self: Buy plastic stencils.

So we got through. Eventually. Not without Miss 4 hiding under the bed for 20 minutes screaming hysterically. Because I was cruel. Heartless in fact. I, wait for it, asked her to wash her hands.

I know. I don't know what possessed me. But I did it. And I'll do it again. I, well, maybe I am just without feeling. Who knows.

I got her out eventually. And washed her hands to boot. I'll chalk that one down as a massive score for the day.

It is so good to have my babies back though. Hugely "full" day and all. I love them to bits. They infuriate me wildly at times. At times I just can't let them go because I just want to keep hugging them. I love playing with them, rolling around and laughing and carrying on, as we did for much of the day, in between the dramas.

And even though I complain that they are in my bed most nights, not having them there felt almost wrong.

I do enjoy my time away from them. Because, well, it helps make the time I am with them easier. But I'm so so glad they are home. Even as I act as mediator while Master 3 rides Miss 5 who accidentally falls on Miss 4 and then it becomes a game of stacks on and who can make the most noise, they belong with me and I need them.

They complete me. My three.

And life is most certainly never dull.

I hate washing.

With a passion.

Actually it isn't the washing I hate. It's the folding.

I think the worst part is that I fold washing in my bedroom and put it into nice little piles on my bed.

And then halfway through I'll get distracted. And go somewhere else. And do something else. And forget I was folding washing.

Then bedtime will come around.

Hellooooo washing. On bed. In my way.

Cue moving washing out of way so I can sleep.

Thus time wasted folding washing that never made it to the put away stage and will no doubt become unfolded by the time it is time to see it again after I have slept etc and blah blah blah on it goes.

I hate washing.

No. Folding.

I hate folding.

So if you asked me if I wanted any help, it would be with that. Folding. Not cleaning. Not cooking. Not anything else except folding washing.

Tonight.

Tomorrow I may well change my mind.

Why? Because I am a woman. That's why. It is my goddamn prerogative.

And yes, you may have guessed I am feeling a little hormonal.

If you have a problem with that then I suggest you stop reading. Go to the store. Get me some bacon. Return.

Thanks for that. Much appreciated.

But it's MY day!

Ah yes.

It all started so simply. There were arguments, often, about at which seat various mini folks would sit. About who would check the mail. About who would turn the lights on. About who would go first. At anything.

And so we implemented the "day". Every weekday was assigned to a child. On that day said child was the one who would check the mail and choose where they sat at the dinner table.

Fabulous. In theory.

Until that extended to include getting out of the car first.

Turning on the lights. All of them.

Turning on the tv.

Getting a spoon.

Breathing.

"Muuuuuuuum!!! She turned on the light first but it's MY day!!!!!!!!!"

And so now I am in the process of "un-daying" the majority of the activities to go back to the way in which I initially intended the "day" process to work. And I do believe it is harder than mediating the fights that occurred prior to the introduction of the "day" program.

Lesson learned. A little too late. But learned.

When I ask one child to do something, 9 times out 10 a different child will rush to perform said task before the child I asked gets a chance to. As you can imagine this has a wonderful effect. And so, when the tears begin after Master 3 has turned the tv off when I had in fact asked Miss 4, I simply tell her to turn it back on and then she can turn it back off. Problem solved.

I asked Miss 4 to get something from under the sofa which I had spied out of the corner of my eye.

Master 3 ran, grabbed it, and gave it to me.

Miss 4 had a complete and utter meltdown.

I placed the item back under the sofa.

Miss 4 retrieved the item, gave it to me and smiled.

Seriously. Tis beyond my comprehension but if that is what it takes to quell the noise then bugger it, I'm doing it.

It is truly hilarious, in a not funny ha ha but holy crap I was one of those once way, to watch adults who have no children mentally judge those who do. At the shops or down the street or wherever. Child goes of its head. Mother acts in certain way. Onlookers tsk and silently berate said mother.

Same scenario, person watching is a parent. None of the tsking and silent beration. More likely the parent feels pity for the mother who is currently getting mentally and physically belted by her child and the onlookers, and sometimes it actually brings a bit of emotion to the fore as they remember the day that they were in that very position.

And then so much becomes clear.

And you remember the judging that you may have done way back when.

And hope that the present day judgers one day have kids who behave 10 times worse.....just so they can see......

Or is that just me?

You have a heel on your back.

That was Miss 5's comment when she hopped into my bed this morning and I was facing the other way.

"It's a shoulder baby."

"Oh."

Miss 4 was in bed with me again last night. I had told her, post chickenpox diagnosis, that if she needed to come in she could (not that that means anything anyway as 9 times out of 10 she does anyway). And so she did indeed come in to my bed at around 4. Master 3 came in at around 6. And started talking. Joy.

"Mummy."

"No. Go to sleep. Shhhh." My eyes didn't even open.

And so Master 3 leaned over to me, gently placed one of his hands on either of my cheeks, and squeezed. Fabulous. My mouth is now in "kiss" possie, and when I speak to tell him to stop I can't even understand myself.

So I figure that's about that. Done. Forgo sleep and have a chat with the mini dude.

So we had a chat. And then had a bit of a cuddle. And then I pretended to eat him up, as parents do. I never understood it when I wasn't a parent, and I'm not sure I understand it now, even though I am a parent, but, well, you do it. You pretend to eat your kids up. They get a kick out of it and it brings laughter galore.

And so there I was, playfully mock gnawing at his arm saying "I'm going to eat you all up for my breakfast!"

He replied with the cries of "Nooooo!!!" interspersed with hysterical laughter, and as soon as I would stop he would yell out "EAT ME ALL UP!!!" and so I would start again.

And then I repeated "I'm going to eat you all up for my breakfast!" at which time Master 3 wiggled away, jumped out of bed and said "HA! Your breakfast just got out of bed!"

Funny lil man.

He has recently discovered the cupboard in the girls' room. If he stands on the bed, he can reach the handle to open the cupboard. Then he jumps off the bed, crawls into the bottom shelf, and closes the door behind him. It has louvres so he won't suffocate. But still. Terrifying. Imagine I hadn't seen him discover that.... he could literally go missing for hours and I would never have thought to check there.

I would also never have thought to check under Miss 4's bed for my phone, but when I asked her tonight where she had put it after playing a game on it earlier, that's where she went. An insight into the mind of a child.

And so long story short, new topic, the kids all have chickenpox. Fabulous. That said, I'm really pretty lucky (as are they obviously) because they have all got such a mild dose it is unbelievable. Like massively mild. Miss 4 is the worst, with some quite nasty spots which I think will probably scar, but the other two, in all honesty, you wouldn't even know they had anything wrong with them. The only reason I knew that they had spots at all was because I have been carrying out routine "spotwatch" every hour or two as I figured the odds of the others getting it too were fairly high. And I wouldn't have even done that I don't think except I saw a suspicious looking spot on Miss 5's face.

So there you go. Better to get it all over with at the one time than to drag it out though. So as far as silver linings go, that's a pretty good one.

Yesterday when I got home there was an old lady standing on the road beside the driveway next door. I got out of the car and the first thing I heard was "can you help me?" and so I got the kids out of the car and hurried over to her.

So it seems she was from up the road and was visiting the lady next door to me, but she forgot her walking frame (as you do) and only had her walking stick and got 'stuck' when she hit the lip in the road to get up the driveway.

Good lord. How long had that poor woman been standing there??!!

So I did the neighbourly thing and the kids and I walked her around to the house of the woman she was aiming to visit and made sure she got in there safely then said our goodbyes (after introducing ourselves) and off we went.

Good deed for the day....done.

Gee I hope she's had the chickenpox......

Chickenpox is so much fun

said nobody ever.

So this morning Miss 4 woke up, in my bed just for a change, and when I went to put her clothes on I noticed she had 4 spots on her belly. Hmm. Interesting.

So being the mum that I am I stripped her off completely to make sure she didn't have any spots anywhere else. Cool. No more spots. Just 4 random belly spots.

We were late this morning. Master 3 was asserting his shoe choice capacity strongly. It wasn't going well. We finally got out the door at the time Miss 5 needed to be dropped off at school and I crossed everything that her class hadn't already left for gym, which they do every Friday morning this term, and it is off campus. And I don't know where. Bonus.

After that we did the obligatory run to the babycino shop. As I waited for my long black and the kids' babycinos to arrive I noticed 3 spots on Tabitha's cheek. Oh. Cool.

So we left. Went and looked at some helicopters, as we do, then went home.

Food o'clock. Then I stripped Miss 4 and commenced operation spotwatch. At 11.30am there were 4 on her belly and 3 on her face. Not too bad.

Miss 4 does not like doctors. At all. I can't really blame her. She has in the past broken her arm and her leg, in the opposite order. The leg fracture I think was particularly traumatic. Not the breaking part. She caned that. Standing in a room, turned around, instant slinky bone fracture. And how hard core is this.... she walked on it. Broken. Because she wanted to come with me. Unbelievable.

The x-raying of that leg didn't really go all that well. And she is loud. And x-ray rooms are fairly echoey. And x-ray technicians are fairly inexperienced in dealing with Miss 4 type people. Well, that's a generalisation. I should say "that" x-ray technician appeared to have very little experience dealing with Miss 4 type people.

And then there was the plaster. Oh good lord the plaster.

Anyway, I digress.

11.30am, 7 spots.

I had said to Miss 4 that if she got any more we might have to go to the doctor. She, of course, screamed. Fabulous.

So I said to her "You have 7 spots. What say if you get to 15 spots we go to the doctor?"

And reluctantly she agreed.

So by 12.30pm she had a spot on her arm and 3 more spots on her face. Oh yeah, that count was building.

Then we went to the school assembly, came home, played outside, had dinner, got the kids all into their pyjamas and Master 3 screamed a bloodcurdling scream.

Okey dokey.

"MY THROAT!!!!! AT THE BACK!!!!!"

So I got the torch and I looked. And to me it looked horrid. But then again I don't really know what I was looking for, but he was visibly disturbed by it, Miss 4 was gaining spots by the hour, and things were not going well.

Everyone in the car.

Down to the medical centre we go, lug the kids in, and they say "Oh we don't bulk bill after 6."

Lug the kids out, back in the car, and on the quest for a bulk billing medical centre. Ah yes, the joys of single parenthood and the inability to throw financial caution to the wind, even in the case of necessary treatment.

So we finally found somewhere. Walked in. Asked if they bulk billed and the lady said "Yes, but we have only 2 doctors on and 24 people ahead of you"

Crap. Actually that isn't the word I thought but I am censoring it for you.

And so she said "Is it urgent?"

So I said "Well, this one looks as though all the blood vessels at the back of his throat have burst."

"What about the other one?"

"Well she just keeps getting more spots."

Phone rings. "Hello, yes, the wait is fairly long. There are 24 people here, and 2 emergencies have just come in."

Mental fist pump. We were the emergencies. Queue. Jump. Boo yeah.

And as she got off the phone the receptionist said "We'll have to put you in quarantine. There is a pregnant lady here."

Fine by me.

So they did. And we stayed there. For a bit. Till the doctor came and got us and took us to his room.

Master 3's sore throat, although red, was more than likely due to his 3rd ear infection in the space of 5 weeks.

Miss 4, I warned him, was scared of doctors. He was fabulous. Made her feel so at ease that she even let him look down her throat, take her temperature AND look at the spots. I could see the tears beginning to well in her eyes, but she did amazingly.

So chickenpox it is. Atypical. Due to the fact that she has been vaccinated against them.

And so we finally got home, Miss 4 put out by her spots and Master 3 excited at having two different medicines.

And me, well, I'm just sitting, wondering how things can go from all healthy and well to such extremes in the space of 12 hours.

How? Children. That's how.

And yes. I did stop at the bottle shop on the way home. If I don't deserve wine now, then nobody does. Ever.

Cheers.

Mummy, come and find us...

I didn't.

I never agreed to play hide and seek with them, I had a headache, and to be honest I was really enjoying the peacefulness of them being tucked away safely under a bed.

Is that wrong?

Hell no.

I have some questions for you. Answer if you like, but predominantly I do believe they are rhetorical in nature.

Why is it that when you don't have to work it takes longer to get the kids ready than when you do?

Why is any outfit you choose for your child to wear the wrong outfit?

Why does your child request a specific breakfast cereal, days after you have finally used it because nobody actually really ate it, them professing it is their "favourite"?

Why is it a physical impossibility to get from the front door to the car without somebody discovering some supreme wrong in the molecular makeup of the world, or their brother, or sister, or schoolbag?

Why is it that the only time your 4 year old needs to go to the toilet is when your 5 year old is in there?

Why do we consistently believe things people say, when their actions don't support their words?

Why do we act in good faith on reliance upon the words of others only to be let down repeatedly?

Why do we give the benefit of the doubt?

Why does the activity performed at after school care inadequately reflect the uniform worn? For instance, sport uniform worn, clean activity done. Full summer uniform worn, hand me the paint and glue.

Why is it so important to sit in a specific seat at dinner?

Why do we look at our kids sometimes and spontaneously get tears in our eyes?

Why are there people out there who place so little importance on these amazingly wonderful little humans when by all rights they should occupy an enormous part of their heart?

Why do they no longer sell streaky bacon with the rind on? Rindless defeats the purpose.

Why does our heart go in directions our head would never, in all reality, let it go, if the head made the choices?

Why do we allow others to make us feel less than we deserve?

Why is it that I can have my 5 year old's hair looking pristine when we leave the house, and 3 minutes later when we arrive at school it is messy?

Why don't they make school uniforms out of wash n ready fabrics that don't require ironing?

Why does spray on sunscreen cost so much?

Why? Why why why.

I hear that word a lot. An awful lot. About everything. Anything. Nothing.

"What time is it?"

"11 o'clock."

"Why?"

There are several words that children repeat, ad nauseum, at different points throughout the day. You may be familiar with them.

No.

Why?

No.

Aaaaaaaaagh.

No.

Why?

No.

Aaaaaaaaagh.

It has been one of those days.

I have wine.

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Kids don't care

if you are sick. They just don't.

Okay well that's not entirely true. I do get empathy from the girls. Mini dude though. Nope. Doesn't. Give. A. Rat's.

So when I tell him to stay in bed because I don't feel well, does he listen?

No.

He comes out to the lounge room where I am curled in a ball feeling horrific and starts. "Mummmmmmmy."

Oh. God. Child. Leave me alone.

"What is it?"

"I'm not tired."

Kill me.

"Go to bed."

"I want you to come with me."

So I take him back in and retuck him in, give him a kiss, tell him I love him then come back out to curl up underneath the ceiling fan which I have on because I am getting hot flushes. Yes. Tis that kind of ill. Caused by? I am fairly sure it was overexertion in the sun this afternoon with a mower with which I am not familiar and which requires an inordinate amount of strength to utilize, coupled with a 40 year old body that does far too little in the way of exercise, with which I usually have no issue, until such time as I decide to go hell for leather mowing the lawn again for the second time in the space of a week. I think that about sums it up. So yes, fully self inflicted. But still. A bit of sympathy wouldn't go astray....

So he's in bed. He sounds like a sick sheep. "Mummyyyyyyyyyy. Mummyyyyyyyyyy." The long sound is on the eee sound at the end. It's fabulous. no. Really.

Anyway, he's asleep now. Only 9 or 10 visits back out to the lounge room. Why so many tonight? Because the girls were good. That is the way it works with kids. The times that they are all angels together are approximately as rare as those times when you phone Centrelink and wait less than 10 minutes to speak to someone. I know. It isn't very often at all.

I went out for lunch today. It was a 2 wine lunch. It was lovely. I was a grown up. I ate my meal by myself, stayed for hours longer than I 'needed' to, and had a fabulous time catching up with a friend with whom I haven't had a chance to catch up for ages.

Then I came home and mowed. Oh, but that isn't all.....! I attempted to fix my mower. Yes. Yes I did. I still have my neighbour's lawnmower until Saturday which is why I did the double mow, just in case I couldn't get my own back working. But today I removed the spark plug, gave it a clean, wiped up some oil and stuff from the mower, and put the spark plug back in, and guess what? Yep. I rock. It started. I couldn't quite believe it. I just stared, open mouthed, and looked at it in disbelief. Then I turned it off because it is still making quite a lot of smoke and I didn't know if that was good or not and it was making me cough anyway. Not to mention creating a beautiful ambience of the plains of Scotland in a fog in my garage.

I made the kids sandwiches for dinner tonight. I spent too much time at lunch and mowing and completely forgot to make dinner. But I figure once isn't going to kill them. They loved it. And between them went through an entire loaf of bread. Monsters they are.

I'm actually starting to feel a little better. The carrot and cucumber sticks I ate were medicinal. I believe quite firmly that if I also had some tomato (which I don't) then I would be completely better.

Now here's a lesson for the day. In addition to Thomas engines and Lego, the shapes from the inside of a Tupperware Shape-O ball can be added to the "holy crap please don't let me ever step on one of those in the dark" list. Especially the star.

And another thing.

If your 4 year old has a bandaid on, and you wish to change said bandaid, prepare yourself. I do believe that Miss 4 was utilized as a sound effect in the movie Pearl Harbour. All they had to do was attempt to change her bandaid and instant air raid siren.

I often wonder what the neighbours must think. The other night I kid you not it sounded as though I was belting the living crap out of them by the screams. But every breath, every scream, was my saying a name, or counting, or, heaven forbid, telling them to go to bed. I know the old duck on one side of the house doesn't hear, as she has told me. The other side though, well, let's just say I try not to make eye contact. God only knows what they are thinking when mini dude has his night terrors.......

Anyway, it's 'go and stand at the fridge door looking in and hoping something will magically appear that I want to eat' o'clock.

I'm feeling better. Maybe I'm just soft? So many people are these days. Or maybe not. Or maybe I should have had breakfast.

Oh wow. I know what it is. I only had three coffees today. That MUST be why I felt ill. Not the whole completely unfit and ridiculously inflexible and incapable of doing a small modicum of exercise in the way of mowing.

And there's a lesson in that for all of us....

Do you eat lamb?

This was the first of a series of questions in a conversation I had with Miss 5 this evening, some of which I will share with you, as best as I can remember.

Miss 5: "Do you eat lamb?"

Me: "Yes baby I do."

Miss 5: "What about baby lambs?"

Me: "Yes baby."

Miss 5: "Where do baby lambs come from?"

Me: "From sheep."

Miss 5: "So baby lambs are baby lambs?"

Me: "Yes."

Miss 5: "So do you eat any creatures?"

Me: "Yes baby."

Miss 5: "We can't eat creatures."

Me: "Yes we can baby!"

Miss 5: "Noooo."

Me: "Yes baby." At this point I am terrified I am just about to create a vegetarian.

Miss 5: "What about chicken?"

Me: "What about chicken?"

Miss 5: "What is chicken?"

Me: "Chicken is chicken."

Miss 5: "Yes, but what is chicken made of."

Me: "Chicken is made of chicken baby. You know, *makes chicken sound and mock flaps wings*."

Miss 5: "What..... do you mean food chicken is made out of animal chicken?"

Me: "Yes. Chicken we eat is chicken animal chicken." I know. Yes. Well. She understood it.

Miss 5: "So what you're saying is.... GUYS!!! YOU KNOW WHAT MUMMY SAYS? SHE SAYS THAT FOOD CHICKEN IS MADE FROM ANIMAL CHICKEN!!!!!!!!!"

I was quite thankful to hear a scream then. Well, I wasn't, because I thought it may have been due to the realisation that they had been eating chicken little, but thankfully it was due to Master 3 shoving his foot into the side of Miss 4's head. Oh yes. Thankfully. Minor damage done. The creation of vegetarians in my house however would have been horrific.

We did somersaults tonight. Well, Miss 5 started. She has been doing gym at school and wanted to show everyone what she had learned. And then king coordination Master 3 picked it up just like that so they were tumbling and rolling like nobody's business.

Miss 4 wasn't quite so sure. She didn't want to do it. So I asked her if she would like me to do it first to show her how.

She said yes.

I can't believe she said yes.

I also can't remember the last time I did a somersault.

So I watched Miss 5, then I watched Master 3 and I thought yes, I can do this.

I stood behind her little sofa, which was all stretched out, put my head on the ground, then flipped myself over. I did it. And my god I am soft because it gave me a little fright. BUT it allowed Miss 4 to see that it was not a bad thing to do.

So I spent the next few minutes guiding her on how to put her head on the ground without smashing herself in the forehead, as her first instinct was to essentially faceplant the ground, and then to flip herself over.

She did it. And wasn't she proud. So I gave her massive cuddles and encouraged her to do it again. And pretty soon hers were the smoothest of all. Way to go mini chick :)

Bedtime tonight was crap. There is no other word to describe it.

It was so bad that I folded all the washing. And there was a lot of it.

Why did I do this? I was trying to prove a point. The kids weren't listening to me, so I folded washing and didn't listen to them. They didn't really like it that much. And it didn't settle them at all. But at least I got the washing folded.

And finally all the kids dragged their somersaulted little tooshes to bed.

And I found something else out tonight. Standing on a Thomas train is almost as painful as standing on a Lego.

So there you go. Learn something new every day.....

Frozen peas

are hugely popular in our house. Not for eating. Oh no. For icing.

Frozen peas make an amazing ice pack. And in this house ice packs are necessary. Most days. If a head collides with something and the tears flow, interspersed in the cries and tear-filled renditions of what actually happened is quite often "I want peas". Actually to any outsider that may seem strange. Small child hurts himself and requests vegetables. Interesting....

Tonight I made gnocchi. Twice. I inadvertently froze a packet of gnocchi, and I don't think it was quite thawed by the time I put it into the boiling water, and so I thought I would leave it an extra couple of minutes. Bad idea. Unless you enjoy potato sludge, but I know of very few people, actually none, who do, or would for that matter. I didn't even give it to my dog it was that bad.

So take two, mini gnocchi. Worked just fine. Here's an idea; let's use a pasta sauce we've never tried before.

Really. Seriously.

Idiot.

So then I couldn't be bothered anymore and made some Mi Goreng noodles, which, for those of you who don't know, are the most amazing 2 minute noodles in the world. Unless you bought the brand I used tonight, which again, I had never tried. What. The hell. Is wrong with me? Seriously.

Anyone familiar with 2 minute type noodles knows they are cooked by immersing them in boiling water for several minutes. Two if you believe the name. I don't. And I cook more than one packet at a time. So I make mine in my fabulous Tupperware stack cooker (hideously expensive but fabulously useful and thus one is able to see everything through the side of it, albeit tinged red by the colour of the cooker itself) and cook them for around 6 minutes. 3 packs. Perfecto. Actually, that works out to two minutes a packet. What do you know......

So I took the noodles out of the microwave and placed them on the bench. Master 3 asked "What's that?"

"Noodles."

"Noodles??? Is that noodles??? Why has it turned into soup?"

Nawww. One of those moments.

So let's just say that overall dinner was not a huge success. It was made slightly worse by Miss 4 deciding to spin her bowl around. Twice.

The first time I only heard as I was facing the other way.

The second time I was facing her, and thus able to see the enormous twirl that sent the bowl, complete with Mi Goreng noodles, plummeting off the table and crashing to the floor, spewing forth a bazillion tiny fragment of Mi Goreng noodles that I had loving chopped into small pieces so the kids could eat them with a spoon.

Yep. Genius idea that one.

I think it is fairly safe to say that I wasn't terrifically happy at that point. It is also safe to say that Miss 4 knew she was in big trouble. Not just for spilling the noodles, but for not listening, and for playing with her food, and for basically carrying on like, well, a 4 year old. Who is being naughty. Which she is. And she was.

Life can be challenging.

And then it was get ready for bed o'clock and reading o'clock. Miss 5 has improved quite remarkably with her reading, to the point that her books are now just a tad challenging for Miss 4, who up until recently has been completing Miss 5's reading after she does it. I know. Insane. So we now have Miss 5's reading, Miss 4's reading, Master 3 "reads" (i.e. flicks through the book making up a story according to the pictures, which I think is absolutely fabulous as it inspires creativity, and makes me laugh so much when I hear what goes on in his mind - "Man is at the window and there's a girl. What are you doing man? What are you doing? Why are you here girl? Aaaaaah there's a car.") And today was library day too so we had an extra, long book. So then we all sat and I read it to them. Well, for the first bit we did. Then Master 3 decided to jump on his sofa. And Miss 4 thought that looked like fun. So it was just me and Miss 5. Until Master 3 rolled on Miss 4 and she squawked and then there was a rescue mission and. Yes. I digress. We finished the book.

I was tired at the end of today. I really was. Work was hugely busy and truly fabulous. I am so very lucky to love my job. But I'm tired. Plus I have "mowing hugely long grass and body is completely unfit" mowing hangover going on. And the failures of dinner. And the noise. Oh the noise. The noise.

Master 3 finally dropped off to sleep at around 8.30pm. That is late. For him. For any of them. And since that time all I have managed to do is eat some corn chips and sit down and write this.

Tonight, as I was sitting on the sofa listening to Master 3 repeat "no" seven or eight thousand times in varying pitches and volumes, heartily amused by the sound of his own voice, I said to myself that this is a damn hard caper. And some days it really is. Granted, it isn't all bad on days like that, but, well, it's hard is all.

And there then are other days when you get the hugs and smiles and your kids remind you of everything good in life. And things do go well. And behaviour is fabulous. And laughs abound. And fun and joy and wonderment occurs.

Some days are just a bit more trying than others.

But I made it through. And nobody got hurt. Bonus. The peas have been in the freezer for 27 hours straight now. That must be some kind of record.....

I love it when they help.

No. Really. I do.

And that was only half sarcasm.

When they all get their own bowls and spoons or put things away or make their beds or anything like that, I just love it.

Except perhaps Master 3. He tried to help make his bed today. Picture a 3 year old atop a bed that has 3 corners of a fitted sheet firmly in place, he grasping the 4th corner repeating "It's not big enough" while trying to pull it towards the empty corner, his body weight removing any possibility of actually moving the sheet itself. And then he turns, which loosens the sheet, which then gives him hope, so he kneels on the sheet and starts pulling at the corner again. See a pattern forming?

So five minutes later I asked him, again, if he would let me help and he said "yeah....." with a big sigh. Poor lil man. Must have been a bit frustrating.

So he decided he'd tackle putting the pillow case on the pillow.

"It's not working"

"Would you like me to help?"

"Yeah....." *sigh* *stands up and runs out of room with a scream.

The bath was a bit of an event tonight. To say the least.

I started running the bath while buzzing around doing other things, and shut the door so Master 3 didn't inadvertently plonk in. And, well, time got away from me a little so by the time I got back the bath was big. Massive actually. Well, that's the kids' description of it. It was deep. Bit of a novelty. And it was hair washing night (it is an event in itself.....the girls' hair is long....).

So in hopped lil man, I quickly washed his hair and all was good.

Then Miss 5 hopped in too and I washed her hair. No incident.

Miss 4 was nowhere to be found. So I called out to her. Several times. And then went searching. I found her curled up, naked, on her brother's bed.

"Come on, bath time."

"I don't want to."

"The quicker you come with me the quicker it'll be done."

"But I don't want to."

"I don't want to have to count......" *long pause, followed by a sigh (by me)* "1....."

"Don't count at me!!!!!"

"THEN GET IN THE BATH!"

Oh yes. This gives me a GREAT feeling about washing her hair.

I finally managed to get her into the bath and decided to just go hell for leather and get the washing done asap.

It was a good three seconds before the squealing started.

"He splashed me and made me eat soap!!!"

"Well spit it out."

"I can't, it's gone."

"Just lean your head back and it'll be finished soon."

I swear that was quickest I have ever washed her hair, but it felt as though it was an hour. Minimum. Because the entire time she narrated with a series of low-grade squeals and squawks and general unimpressed grunting babble, until such time as the hair was completely washed, after which time she ramped it up because she had obviously remembered the unfortunate soap swallowing episode of minutes earlier.

Ah the joys.

I'll interject here. Even though it is I talking so I guess I really didn't have to interrupt myself. No matter, will know for next time. They call it terrible 2s. When you have a 2 year old and that 2 year old behaviour yada yada yada.

Well. I have, at different points in time, had three 2 year olds.

2 is easy.

3 is challenging. More so if the 3 year old is a boy I think. In my humble opinion. Non-sexist, based upon experience alone.

4 is holy crap. Because seriously. Att. It. Ude. Majorly.

Everything is a drama. Everything.

Eating breakfast and a small drop of milk lands on the table. And they say you shouldn't cry over spilled milk. Tell that to a 4 year old.

This morning Miss 4 spent an hour wearing only knickers because she decided that she wanted to wear the top that Miss 5 was wearing. And figured that by remaining half naked there was still a chance that could be her top for the day. Ba bow. Not so mini chick. Get dressed.

Anyway, I finally got all three kids out of the bath this evening, and eventually managed to get them dressed. Well, Miss 5 got herself dressed. And I actually said to Miss 4 at that time I was incredibly proud of her because at one stage Miss 5 placed her nudie bum in such a smackable position near Miss 4, and I saw Miss 4 look at Miss 5's bottom and could literally SEE her contemplate giving that bottom a smack, but she resisted. Well done mini chick. Small battles, small battles......

Time for a book. Cue tantrum from Miss 5 because Master 3 was on one side of me and Miss 4 was on the other and there was nowhere for her to sit and she couldn't see the pictures. Gutteral cries. As if she were grieving. Good lord child, it is a book.

So I explain to her that now she knows how the others feel because when she and I are doing her reading, it is she who is always beside me, and remains there when we then read a book for everyone, so now she is able to understand how they must feel.

She looks at me with the "are you serious" eyes. Another gutteral moan. I start reading. "Noooooooo!!! I can't SEEEEEEEE!"

"Then sit up here and you'll be able to . I'll make sure I show you the pictures."

Her out clause. Up she comes.

And so we read the story of Rapunzel, a family fave, in "Tangled" form. They adore the movie, as do I, and take great joy in reminding me when we get to the lantern pages that that is my favourite part of the movie and my favourite song.

Book ends. Teeth, toilet, bed.

Miss 5 falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Miss 4 needs a few goes at it, and I ask to not be naughty tomorrow, to which she agrees. We'll see.

Master 3. Yes. Master 3. World's worst child at bedtime.

"Muuuuuuuum. I want to tell you something."

And I go to his room. He talks in slow motion. Again. Seriously.

GO TO SLEEP!!!

So some time later, the final call comes.

"Muuuuuuum, I need you to put my blanket on my pillow."

I have a child who doesn't like to sleep on a pillow. He likes the pillow to sleep on him. On his back while he sleeps face down. And apparently the best way to have this happen is to then put the doona on top of the pillow which is atop his back.

So that I did.

And that was that.

And today was a very long day. And you barely heard any of it. Just imagine that......

I hurt

in places I never knew existed. But I'll get to that.

A funny thing happened. I was in the bathroom and turned the tap on to see that the water wasn't going down the plug hole properly. Hmmm. Not great. So, aloud, I said "The sink is blocked; I'm going to need the plunger." And pottered around a little, basically just looking randomly for a bit, before heading out the door and to the kitchen.

What I found was Master 3, in the cupboard under the sink. I, thinking he was up to mischief, said "What are you doing in there?"

And then he popped out. With the plunger in his hand. Clever little tike.

And so we then spent the next 10 minutes 'plunging' the sink. And I say "we" because I had an audience, in a line, a line which edged ever closer each time I pushed the plunger downwards. It was a bit cute.

Anyway, it was unblocked enough to let the water go down so that was good enough for me. One of those mental notes to look for some natural alternative to Drano, and, if that can't be found, get some Drano. I really dislike using chemicals if I can avoid it. I love the bicarb and white vinegar cleaning solution and use it for heaps of things. The rest I use baby wipes. The world's most universal cleaner. House needs dusting? No problems. Grab a baby wipe. Ceiling fans need cleaning? You got it. Baby wipe. Venetian blinds a little greasy and dusty? Bring it!! Baby wipe me. Well, not literally obviously. But you get the drift. Fabulous things.

The kids do say some strange things sometimes. This morning Miss 5 was sitting eating her breakfast and then pipes up with "It's nearly my birthday!"

"Um, it isn't really nearly your birthday miss."

"Yes it is."

"Well let's see, it's October now.... November, December, January, February, March... April. Still a few months to go there."

"Yes, but it is NEARLY my birthday."

Ok. Fine. Whatever you reckon. So I'll let her be excited for 6 months. No harm done.

Master 3 came into the kitchen not 10 minutes later and said "My ankle fell off."

"Wow, it fell off?? All the way off?"

"Yes, look" *points to ankle with not even so much as a scratch on it*

"Ooooh poor baby. Are you going to be okay?"

"No." *sad face* immediately followed by "THOMAS!!!!!!" as he runs off because he hears Thomas the Tank Engine has started on the TV.

I adore how kids think doing things with their eyes closed is the bees knees.

"Muuuuum!! Look, I can eat with my eyes closed!!!"

"Muuuuuuuuuuum!!!! Look, I can count with my eyes closed!!! 1...2....3.....4....."

You get the drift.

"Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum! I can spell 'dog' with my eyes closed.... D....O....G!!!"

Faaabulous. Good work little ones. Great job.

So a few weeks ago my mower broke. What happened? I don't know. One day I went to mow and it sounded a little bit 'off colour' so I put it down to the fact that it was too long since I had last mowed and the mower was giving me the cold shoulder. It started, I mowed, no harm done.

However, the next time I went to mow I nearly dislocated my shoulder. The pull cord string only allowed me to pull it out about a foot. No mowing for me. And the need to find a mower repair man.

Long story short and cut to the chase, yesterday I was at school assembly and was seated in front of my neighbour across the road. Lovely lovely lady, and great to chat to. So I asked her if she knew anyone who repaired mowers. She told me of one not too far from home, then offered her husband's help to load the mower into the car. I thanked her profusely and told her I would more than likely take her up on that.

Cue today. Her husband knocks on the door at 5pm. "My wife was telling me about your mower not working. I just wanted to know if you would like to borrow ours until you get yours fixed?"

Wow. How absolutely beautiful.

So of course I said yes and within a few minutes he returned with the mower, and a jerry can of fuel to boot (which I told him I did not need because I already had one, which I did, but how nice of him to offer!), showed me how to work it, and said I was welcome to keep it for a few weeks to get the lawns mowed. Amazing generosity.

So I popped it in the garage then went inside with the kids. Now today was a stunning day. Stunning. And it was only 5.15pm. Why not. I thought I would mow today, get it done now, and then that would leave me a week or so to get another mow in to get the level right down. That's thinking right there that is!

So out I went, into the forest of grass, and began to mow. Now to give you a visual, my backyard is, let's say, um, enormous for want of a better word. And there is a lot of grass. An awful lot. And it was approximately thigh height. Yes, I know. Far from ideal.

So I mowed. And emptied the catcher. And mowed. And emptied the catcher. And mowed. And ran out of petrol. And filled up the petrol tank (which I had done before I started mind you). And mowed. And emptied the catcher. Etc. Etc. Etc.

My dog was barking. A lot. As I had him tied up so he didn't "help" with the mowing, which he tends to do when roaming freely.

Miss 5 screams, over the noise of the mower "Muuuuuuum! He's barking to tell you you're doing a great job!!"

Seriously cool kids.

And in the space of an hour and fifteen minutes of hardcore mowing, I was done. With the back yard. Still up the driveway and the front to go. Thankfully that was far shorter and only took 15 minutes. Cutest part was Miss 4 was walking lengths with me, giving me motivation. "You're doing a great job mum!" Absolutely adorable. And again. Seriously cool.

Then I heard "MUM!!!!!". Terrified she had fallen or something had happened I screamed "WHAT!!!!?!" Wherein she said "Don't mow over the flowers." We have wildflowers. Beautiful little white flowers. So I picked them, gave them to her, and kept on mowing. And my wasn't she chuffed.

And then it was done.

So I came inside, showered, and sat on the sofa.

Very. Bad. Move. Every muscle in my body seized up. Oh dear, what have I done. I'll tell you what I had done - I used muscles that had been in a coma quite possibly since birth. The mower I borrowed was slightly older than my mower. In that regard it was a tad heavier (a lot) and a small amount more hideously cumbersome to manoeuvre. How cool is that word? Add an i and it's got the vowels completely covered. E just HAD to make a double appearance didn't it?

And Master 3 came over, having listened to me for the last 5 minutes saying I was sore, climbs up, sits on my lap and says "I'm sore." Going out in sympathy methinks....

So I am aching pretty well all over. Not in a bad way. In an "I have done something incredibly productive" way. So it's all good. But I do hurt. At least that gives me an excuse to self-medicate with a lovely Shiraz.... after all, it is a muscle relaxant isn't it...?

Good enough for me.....

I have come to the conclusion

that we can never go anywhere quickly. Except of course for the hospital. Can get there in record time if the situation presents itself. And it has. Numerous times in fact.

The more children you have, the later you will be. So you set yourself an early goal so that even if you are late by your early goal you are still on time by the actual goal. Clear as mud?

I have the microwave clock set 17 minutes fast. I know. Insanity. BUT it works. It is a visual cue that makes me think "holy crap better get a wriggle on." I'm not sure it actually changes or helps anything but I do it nonetheless. Actually that's interesting. I might try not doing it and see what happens..... I'll let you know.....

But there are several things that will slow you down when you have three small ones. I'll let you in on just a few.

Just as you are about to leave, one will need to go to the toilet.

Just as you are about to leave, one will decide that this is the perfect opportunity to try out their slow motion actions that they learned from a segment on Play School the other day.

Just as you are about to leave, one will throw spiderman at another's head.

Just as you are about to leave, one, as previously discussed, will tip water all over themselves.

Just as you are about to leave, one will remove his shoes and pants because he doesn't want those ones anymore.

Just as you are about to leave, one will lie down on the floor and roll themselves up in a towel because they want to "be an easter egg". And no, I have no idea what that meant, but Miss 5 seemed to think it was apt this morning.

Just as you are about to leave, one will plonk themselves on the sofa and say "I a sorsted mummy". Exhausted. Yes. Probably because you got up before bakers.

So there are a few things you may have to look forward to if you still have babies. Once they start "doing" stuff it gets even more cumbersome than the whole nappy bag thing. Cos you have the nappy bag PLUS all those wonderful added extras. Sensational.

Now as you know I am a single mother. Which means at times the kidlets are left to fend for themselves, me still at home obviously but occupied doing other things, whether that be cleaning, cooking, or, in this case, having a shower.

The shower. As soon as I announce I am going to have a shower (usually from behind a cup of coffee) I get "I want a hug!" from everyone. So before I go to have a shower I hug everyone. "And a kiss!" So I go around and give everyone a kiss, and make my way towards the shower, where, inevitably, at least one, and usually more than one, child will follow for another hug.

I know. I'm going to the shower. It isn't like I'm leaving for a six week holiday. But it's a bit cute.

So I hop in the shower, and hear Master 3. "Are you in the shower?"

"Yes"

"Oh. Ok. I want a hug."

"You can't have a hug baby, I'm in the shower, I'll give you a hug when I get out."

"Oooooookay"

So I start to shampoo my hair.

Master 3 is back. "What's this?"

I look out. He is holding a book. "It's a book." (Bet you didn't see that one coming)

"But how big is it?"

"Little"

"Oh. Little?"

"Yes, little."

"Ok." *runs out of the bathroom screaming*. He does this often. It's as though his movement is directly related to the amount of sound coming out of his mouth. So if no sound, slow motion. Lots of sound, running like a madman. He ran. Fast.

And then it was Miss 4's turn.

"Muuuuuum. After you have your shower can you please get me dressed?"

"Of course I can baby."

"Can I wear leggings and you wear leggings too?"

"Yes baby."

*Smiles* "Can I have a kiss?" And so I lean out of the shower and give her a kiss.

"You got me wet."

"Well, I'm in the shower baby. I can't exactly avoid that. There is water pretty well everywhere."

She just looked at me. Then laughed. And walked out.

Back to it. Miss 5's turn.

"Muuuuuuum. Have you made my lunch yet?"

"No baby, I'll do it when I get out of the shower."

"Can I please have strawberries again?"

"Of course you can baby."

"Eeeeeeeeee thank you mummy!!!!!"

"You're welcome darling."

Sigh. Leave me the hell alone kids. Seriously. Five minutes. That's all I need. They didn't, it continued, for the duration of the shower. As it often does. Oh well. Tis better than the alternative. That being hearing the bloodcurdling screams as one has thrown something at another's head, or snatched something from them or, heaven forbid, blocked their view of the television or something equally as earth shattering.

Anyway. We made it through another day today. Me and the three. We got out and about, stayed in for a bit, saw some friends, and Miss 4 got stepped on by Master 3. Completely accidentally. But holy moly it looks horrific. Her thumb has swelled so much that it is solid. Like solid solid. I doubt it is broken because it still has movement, but my god it would not tickle, that's for sure.

So I dosed her up with Panadol. As you do. Because seriously. Ow. And just cuddled her. A lot. Poor baby. I just hate when my babies get hurt. I would rather it be me than them. In a heartbeat.

Thing is, much as we want to protect our babies, there is only so much we can do. Innocent little accidents such as this are an unavoidable part of life. We can, and should, protect them from any external nasty though. That goes without saying. Once I had my kids I no longer was the most important person in my life - they are. And there is nothing on this planet that could change that. And I don't want it to. Ever.

And so even though I get frustrated at Miss 4 coming into bed with me nearly every night, tonight as I was tucking her in, I said to her that if her thumb started hurting too much, to just come in with me and I'll cuddle it better. And she stopped the little whimpering she had been doing, thumb raised in the air, turned over, I kissed her forehead, told her I loved her very very much and she went to sleep.

I then kissed Miss 5 and told her I loved her very very much too, then went in to see Master 3 who was impersonating the bleating sheep again. And I did something I haven't done for a long time. I picked him up, cuddled him, and then started patting him on his back and rocking, like I used to do when he was little.

And I held him tightly but not too tight, just patting his little back and holding him. And I felt emotional. He is the last of my babies and pretty soon he will be too big for me to do that. And as I felt him nestle in, I was taken back to so many nights in the past, settling him, listening to his breathing change.

And then he fell asleep. And I didn't let go. I just kept holding him and patting him.

Some minutes later I laid him on his pillow, pulled the doona up, and walked out to the lounge room. All my babies were asleep. And I had a beautiful moment with each of them before they fell to sleep.

And right now I am quite possibly the most blessed person on this planet.

And that, for now, is all :)

I'll tell you why you're tired.....

because if you are anything like me this is how your day went.

4.30am Master 3 "I want breakfast"

"Go to bed it isn't even light yet"

"I want breakfast"

"Hop in here with me"

Does. Sleeps for a nanosecond. Gets up. Turns on tv.

"Mum, tv doesn't work"

"That's because it doesn't wake up until 6. Go to sleep"

*hops into bed with me and goes to sleep*

Meanwhile, over the other side of the bed, Miss 4 is happily snoring, having stealthed in at who knows what time.

Cue light. And wakeup. Of everyone.

And breakfast. And the inevitable fights over who gets which colour bowl. Note to self - get set of bowls today that are all the same colour.

And so the next hour is spent caffeinating (me, not them), and trying to wrestle with personalities that are intent on asserting themselves in every waking hour. Master 3 didn't want those shoes. Miss 4 wanted to do it herself. And Miss 5. Well, draaaama drama drama. And I seriously have no idea about what.

So we eventually got out the door at around 8.40am. School bell rings at 8.50am for the preps. And I still have to drop the other two off.

So we get there, up to Master 3's room and he goes mock shy and clingy. Fabulous. And so after a zillion cuddles and kisses I finally have to leave, with the vision of him, throwing himself at the floor crying. Which, I am sure you will agree, is hardly the vision you want in your mind as you leave your child with someone else for the day. So I say, loudly, "Love you baby, I'll be back soon" over and over. More to make myself feel better than him I think.

Then Miss 4 goes to her room, and many cuddles and kisses later we depart.

And it's time to take Miss 5 to school. Late. Again. We were late yesterday too. I don't understand it. The days I have to go to work we are never late. The days I don't, we inevitably are. Why? I think it is the false sense of security instilled by the "you don't have to be at work by X time" thing. Doesn't quite gel that Miss 5 has to be at school by X time..... I'll get there. She's only in prep. I reckon by grade 5 I should be sweet.

And so all the kids are dropped off and then off to the supermarket for me. And my handy hint for the day? Online shopping. And I know, I went to the supermarket. Hear me out.

I'll let you in on how I do my grocery shopping. When we run out of something or are in danger of running out of something I add it to the online grocery list on woolies online. Then on Wednesdays when the specials come out I go through the entire specials list online. You will be amazed how many things are on there that you use on a regular basis, and that aren't in the catalogue. Add them to your online list. And then on Thursday or Friday I go to the supermarket, and open the app on my phone. Instant shopping list, and I know how much it will cost. Sensational.

But I digress. Again.

So shopping done. I came home, and unloaded the car.

And from here is where you can see why I am tired.

I brought the bags in and put them on the kitchen floor, wherein I saw the kettle and decided to make coffee. So I put the kettle on, got a mug and put the coffee in. And when I put the spoon in the sink I saw the dishes needed to be put away. So then I put the dishes away.

After I had put the dishes away, I saw the mug with the coffee in it, so I put the kettle on. I then looked down and saw the grocery bags and realised I hadn't unpacked them yet. So I started unpacking them. And when I was putting some things away in the fridge I realised that there was a container that had been there longer than my "3 day rule" so I opted to remove the container, empty the contents and then wash the container. Which then resulted in my opening the curtains above the sink to look outside, thus seeing the hideously long lawn, and also my dog, and remembering I had bought him a treat in the shopping this morning. So I found the treat, and went outside, gave him a pat and the treat, then came back inside.

On the way in I saw some washing on the floor of the laundry and thought I should put that in the machine, so I did. Then I realised there was washing in the dryer, so I thought I had best get that out. So I took it out and carried it to my bedroom, where I then put the clothes from the dryer onto the full basket of clothes already there, waiting to be folded, and realised there was a bag of clothes the kids didn't fit into waiting to go to the op shop so I sorted that out, then put it at the front door, which was where I realised I hadn't shut the boot of the car. So I went outside, shut the boot, and came inside, which enabled me to see into the girls' room to notice that their beds weren't made. So I attended to that. And coming out of the girls' room I saw a hairclip on the floor, picked that up, took it to their hair stuff container and put it in, which was sitting conveniently right beside a few toys that needed putting away. So I grabbed them, and put them in the toyboxes in Master 3's room, which then made me realise that his bed also had not been made, and who put all those books on the floor? So I put the books on the bookshelf, made the bed, put away the clothes that he decided he didn't want to wear this morning and headed back to the kitchen.

And then I saw the grocery bags. Haven't finished that yet. Thanks to something or other in the fridge.

So I continued unpacking the bags, and saw the coffee mug. So put the kettle back on.

And once the coffee was poured I put the spoon in the sink, and saw the empty milk carton beside the sink and thought I'd put it in the recycling box, so I did that, which made me realise the garbage needed taking out, so I tied off the bag, and turned around to see that there was a box of recycling that needed to go out, separate to that in which I had just placed the recycling, so I picked that up and took it outside and shoved it in the bin.

So back to the kitchen and see the rubbish, and take that out again, spying out of the corner of my eye that the flowers in the vase in the lounge room are looking a little bit how's your mother and probably could use chucking.

Back to the kitchen again, I see bags, still not unpacked, so keep doing that. Finish that and realise I have a coffee on the bench, cold by now, so put it in the microwave.

Then I spy something on the floor. It is a woolies animal card. Cos we don't have enough of those at the moment. I pick it up, which makes me then be at eye level with the underneath of the table. So I realise I need to vacuum. Mental note to self. Vacuum.

And I finish putting away the groceries and drink the coffee. And go back to the bedroom and fold some of the washing. And then I see the glitter paint from the other day and think I could use some more of that. So I grab my bag, purse and phone and head out the door towards "my favourite shop" and then I'm there. And there is a WALL of fabric paint and I am like a kid in a candy shop. So I get some, get some stencils, some paintbrushes, and, most importantly, a set of 4 bowls that are ALL THE SAME COLOUR and head home again.

And feel like coffee. So I put the kettle on.

And then I go back to the lounge room and spy a shoe under the sofa. So I stupidly don't just grab the shoe, I get down on floor level and am then able to see everything under the sofa. So that gets removed.

And I put it all away and then go back to the kitchen and think coffee would be nice so I put the kettle on. Turning around I see Miss 4's leap pad on the sofa chair and remember the batteries need charging, so I remove those and put them on charge. And then I recall Miss 5 has the same issue, so spend the next 10 minutes trying to find the other leap pad, the other charger, and put those on too. By which time I think I need a coffee so I put the kettle on.

And I think you get the idea.

So yes. Those days we have with no kids are just so relaxing aren't they?

I'll just put the kettle on......