I just have a lot going on right now, emotionally. Yes. My baby boy.
He is still with us. We have had heaps and heaps of cuddles today. And I have spoiled him rotten. And the kids have all had a pat and a cuddle.
I still have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that time is very limited, and I am randomly crying often, but do you know what? I don't think it is all bad. Because I am spending a lot more time with him right now, which I should have done sooner, I know, but I am loving it, and so is he.
And that concern I had about him knowing that I loved him and how much he meant to me is gone. Because I know he knows.
And I also told him that it's ok. Ok if he needs to go.
People without a dog wouldn't understand. Unless they have a cat, or a horse, or another member of the family who is slightly hairier than the norm, and with less capacity to express themselves verbally.
The kids understand. As much as kids can understand.
I can't yet jump into the talk of Christmas and antics of the minis, though I tell you antics were aplenty.
I'm taking time right now to reflect.
I would never have believed I could become so attached to a pet. But then again, when I got him I didn't have any kids. So he became my child. Substitute. Ish. You know what I mean. And he was spoiled rotten. Consequently he and I became incredibly close. And we still are.
So yep. That's me right now.
I might just take a few days I think. I will be back, of that there is no doubt. But for now I think I'll just take time with my little boy, because he needs me. And I want to be there for him.
I'll see you next year…...
Monday 30 December 2013
Saturday 28 December 2013
I had the best intentions
and truly did want to write a blog about my time away with my three, and Christmas in general.
But I'm not going to. Not tonight.
Because I got home and my dog is not himself. He was taken care of while we were away, but when I went out to see him when I got home, he didn't do the obligatory run over to me to say he was glad to see me.
He seems tired.
He seems weary.
After the kids went to bed I just sat out with him, stroking his head and his back and crying, telling him how much I love him.
My dog has been with me for 14.5 years. He is a big dog, and big dogs of his breed aren't "supposed" to live for that long. But he has. And the thought of him not being there is just a little too much to deal with.
He has got me through a hell of a lot. A truly mammoth amount of life events have occurred since my beautiful boy came into my life. And he has always been there for me, listening to me, loving me.
Pets are goldfish. Or hermit crabs. Or sea monkeys.
Dogs are not the same. Dogs become like family. They manage to get into your heart. They look at you and they understand you, if not actually, then emotionally. And they love you unconditionally.
I know that my boy will not be with me for much longer, and the tears are cascading like a waterfall down my cheeks as I think about it. I think tonight, seeing him like he is, just so tired, makes it just that bit too real.
I am hoping that it is just the heat that has knocked him around. It may be. I don't know. I do know that I feel physically ill and just can't stop crying. And I am just so sure something will happen soon. And I don't want it to. But that won't change anything.
I know that he knows how much I love him. And much as with my children, I wish I could have given him more, done more for him.
I'm probably rambling. It happens. Emotion all but destroys rationality on many occasions.
I have a lump in my throat. Probably a similar size to the lump I discovered on my baby's back last week.
The tears just keep on coming.
I know he has "had a good innings." I know he is older than most dogs of his breed live to be. It doesn't make it any easier to think of being without him.
But if it is his time, then it is his time.
I know though that whenever the day comes that he is no longer in this world, I will be inconsolable. He isn't even gone and just the thought of it happening soon is almost too much for me.
When he was a puppy his face looked like a cartoon animal that had had TNT explode in their face. His beard just went straight outwards. He was a mad little doggy. He used to lie underneath my feet as I would sit and play the piano. He would sleep at the foot of my bed. He would fiercely protect me if he thought I was in danger. He has spent months being an ear for my sad ramblings of things now past.
He was for such a long time almost a part of me.
I may be being overly dramatic. I'm not. Drama is not what it is. Emotion is what it is. And it is instinctive and unable to be restrained.
I hope he wakes up ok. I hope he is with us for a long time to come.
And if he isn't, I hope he knows how much he is and was loved in his life.
But I'm not going to. Not tonight.
Because I got home and my dog is not himself. He was taken care of while we were away, but when I went out to see him when I got home, he didn't do the obligatory run over to me to say he was glad to see me.
He seems tired.
He seems weary.
After the kids went to bed I just sat out with him, stroking his head and his back and crying, telling him how much I love him.
My dog has been with me for 14.5 years. He is a big dog, and big dogs of his breed aren't "supposed" to live for that long. But he has. And the thought of him not being there is just a little too much to deal with.
He has got me through a hell of a lot. A truly mammoth amount of life events have occurred since my beautiful boy came into my life. And he has always been there for me, listening to me, loving me.
Pets are goldfish. Or hermit crabs. Or sea monkeys.
Dogs are not the same. Dogs become like family. They manage to get into your heart. They look at you and they understand you, if not actually, then emotionally. And they love you unconditionally.
I know that my boy will not be with me for much longer, and the tears are cascading like a waterfall down my cheeks as I think about it. I think tonight, seeing him like he is, just so tired, makes it just that bit too real.
I am hoping that it is just the heat that has knocked him around. It may be. I don't know. I do know that I feel physically ill and just can't stop crying. And I am just so sure something will happen soon. And I don't want it to. But that won't change anything.
I know that he knows how much I love him. And much as with my children, I wish I could have given him more, done more for him.
I'm probably rambling. It happens. Emotion all but destroys rationality on many occasions.
I have a lump in my throat. Probably a similar size to the lump I discovered on my baby's back last week.
The tears just keep on coming.
I know he has "had a good innings." I know he is older than most dogs of his breed live to be. It doesn't make it any easier to think of being without him.
But if it is his time, then it is his time.
I know though that whenever the day comes that he is no longer in this world, I will be inconsolable. He isn't even gone and just the thought of it happening soon is almost too much for me.
When he was a puppy his face looked like a cartoon animal that had had TNT explode in their face. His beard just went straight outwards. He was a mad little doggy. He used to lie underneath my feet as I would sit and play the piano. He would sleep at the foot of my bed. He would fiercely protect me if he thought I was in danger. He has spent months being an ear for my sad ramblings of things now past.
He was for such a long time almost a part of me.
I may be being overly dramatic. I'm not. Drama is not what it is. Emotion is what it is. And it is instinctive and unable to be restrained.
I hope he wakes up ok. I hope he is with us for a long time to come.
And if he isn't, I hope he knows how much he is and was loved in his life.
Sunday 22 December 2013
Yesterday was the winter solstice.
That means it was the longest day of the year. I would believe that. We jammed so much into that day that it is hard to believe that it was only one day.
And not in a bad way either, like some other times.
This weekend, I think it is fair to say, has been fabulous. Truly fabulous.
Yesterday began slowly, and after packing a suitcase for the day (yes, a suitcase) we headed the hour trip down to my nephew's birthday party.
I had explained to the kids that it was being held at an indoor volleyball centre, and Miss 5 and Miss 4 were invited to join in, but Master 3 was just that little bit too small. He was brilliant about it. Brilliant.
As we approached the venue the sounds of "Are we there yet?" resounded through the backseat. The best one though was when Miss 4 screamed out "BOWLING BALL!!!!!!".
"No baby, volleyball."
She did a similar thing tonight when the Gruffalo started on the TV…. "Mum!!!! The Buffalo is on!!"
But back to the party and the indoor sporting activities.
The girls got involved, running around playing soccer, although Miss 4 misjudged her kick at the ball, even though she reached it first, and went down like a sack of spuds. Kids being kids had a laugh (a loud one actually) and poor Miss 4 got so embarrassed she just refused to move.
So there she was, in the middle of the soccer field, arms crossed, crying, and refusing to move. I went up to her to comfort her, and attempted to move her. Good. Lord. That child does the dead weight so impressively. Impossible to move her. And I was acutely aware of all the other children waiting for Miss 4 to shift so they could keep playing.
She did. And yes, I am thankful for small mercies.
Then they got everyone involved running around after the ball and after each other. Scarecrow tiggy was played (I remember playing that!) and good fun was had by all.
Throughout all this, Master 3 watched. He ran up and down a little beside the indoor soccer field, and when it came time to play in the sandy area, he plonked himself to the side and buried his legs. As you do.
It was a fabulous location and everyone had an amazing time.
We then spent the next few hours with my folks, which was a great chance for the kids to have a wind down and a catch up with nana and pop, and for me to have a few coffees interspersed with a catchup of my own.
I then attended to changing the girls from their casual knock around indoor volleyball clothes to some pretty frocks due to the fact that the next outing was a Christmas party. Master 3 had a change of jeans and shirt (collared). Love a mini dude in a collared shirt.
And wow, what a party. Aside from the fact that it was at the house of a very dear and long-time friend, she had spared no expense with anything. It was catered magnificently, beautiful drinks, a very talented elf came along to paint the kids' faces, and Santa even made an appearance.
They say that everyone has a calling. This elf has found hers. She was just. Amazing.
Miss 5 had her face painted like a lion. A full face lion. And she looked brilliant. Even little dobs of glitter!
Master 3 went next and asked for a dinosaur. If a child had have asked me, as a face painting elf, for a dinosaur, I think I would have convinced them they wanted something else. But no, she took it on and made Master 3 into a scary little dinosaur, so much so that he took it upon himself to growl, rather loudly and with hand actions, at everyone who he saw. Repeatedly. Santa included.
Miss 4, though initially wanting to be a tiger, opted to be a pink butterfly instead. And she just looked a picture.
The elf could also make animals out of balloons. I can barely even hold a balloon let alone twist it into a shape. The girls both got dogs. Master 3 requested…..wait for it….. a dinosaur. And. She. Made one. Wow. Just. Amazing.
Santa visited, as I mentioned, and everyone got a fabulous present. Miss 5 did amazingly well not to spontaneously combust with excitement and anticipation as she was second last to receive her gift. And we got a Santa photo. Albeit the kids with painted faces, but a Santa photo nonetheless. Oh, and earlier on, my mum had taken a great shot of me and the three. So good that I think I will get it blown up.
Now after a day like that you would think the kids would sleep on the way home wouldn't you? Well, Master 3 did, waking up 10 minutes before we arrived home, and crying that entire time.
And as they were all awake I had to get their face paint off. Yet another tick for face paint chick. The pain came off with ease. That said, it did require a small amount of scrubbing. Enough to ensure the kids were "awake" for a good hour more.
They did eventually go to bed. And all slept in their own beds. All night. Gold.
This morning was another highly anticipated event. A visit to the Hyatt for brunch.
I truly adore the Hyatt brunch. Adore it. And anyone who likes sweets, even a little bit, would probably adore it even more. Me, well, I like the meat and antipasto stations. Faaaabulous indeed.
To top it off we were meeting up with another very dear friend and her little folks. We had a sensational day. Sensational. Master 3 fell asleep within 10 minutes of leaving. I wasn't going to waste this. So I opted to keep driving. Let him sleep. And encourage the girls to remain quiet, which would then, hopefully, inspire them to sleep also…..
It. Worked.
And hell, I'll do it again. Gladly. It is worth the however much you spend in petrol and the aimless driving just to know they are having a well needed nap. And it gave my ears a rest too.
We had aimed to do a few more things today, but that just didn't eventuate. At least I got most of the washing folded. Not by choice. Miss 4 wanted a specific pair of shorts. They were in the baskets. Somewhere. So I figured I may as well fold on the way. Pretty good thinking.
And now the house is silent. I can hear the buzz of the fridge and the whir of the ceiling fan.
And this weekend has also reinforced something to me. Choose to spend your time with positive people. Friends who bring out the best in you, not make you question yourself. Friends who will hear you out, and lean on you when they need support.
Sometimes we have negative people in our life because we feel we need to maintain connections with them. What we don't realise is that by allowing these negative people to take our time we are denying ourselves the opportunity to spend that time with positive people who will enrich our lives.
Sometimes we spend so much time trying to find the good in people that we fail to realise that the reason it is taking so long to find the good is that the bad far outweighs it.
Move on.
Find people who make you the best you you can be. And do the same for them.
Life can be truly wonderful. You just need to work with it.
And not in a bad way either, like some other times.
This weekend, I think it is fair to say, has been fabulous. Truly fabulous.
Yesterday began slowly, and after packing a suitcase for the day (yes, a suitcase) we headed the hour trip down to my nephew's birthday party.
I had explained to the kids that it was being held at an indoor volleyball centre, and Miss 5 and Miss 4 were invited to join in, but Master 3 was just that little bit too small. He was brilliant about it. Brilliant.
As we approached the venue the sounds of "Are we there yet?" resounded through the backseat. The best one though was when Miss 4 screamed out "BOWLING BALL!!!!!!".
"No baby, volleyball."
She did a similar thing tonight when the Gruffalo started on the TV…. "Mum!!!! The Buffalo is on!!"
But back to the party and the indoor sporting activities.
The girls got involved, running around playing soccer, although Miss 4 misjudged her kick at the ball, even though she reached it first, and went down like a sack of spuds. Kids being kids had a laugh (a loud one actually) and poor Miss 4 got so embarrassed she just refused to move.
So there she was, in the middle of the soccer field, arms crossed, crying, and refusing to move. I went up to her to comfort her, and attempted to move her. Good. Lord. That child does the dead weight so impressively. Impossible to move her. And I was acutely aware of all the other children waiting for Miss 4 to shift so they could keep playing.
She did. And yes, I am thankful for small mercies.
Then they got everyone involved running around after the ball and after each other. Scarecrow tiggy was played (I remember playing that!) and good fun was had by all.
Throughout all this, Master 3 watched. He ran up and down a little beside the indoor soccer field, and when it came time to play in the sandy area, he plonked himself to the side and buried his legs. As you do.
It was a fabulous location and everyone had an amazing time.
We then spent the next few hours with my folks, which was a great chance for the kids to have a wind down and a catch up with nana and pop, and for me to have a few coffees interspersed with a catchup of my own.
I then attended to changing the girls from their casual knock around indoor volleyball clothes to some pretty frocks due to the fact that the next outing was a Christmas party. Master 3 had a change of jeans and shirt (collared). Love a mini dude in a collared shirt.
And wow, what a party. Aside from the fact that it was at the house of a very dear and long-time friend, she had spared no expense with anything. It was catered magnificently, beautiful drinks, a very talented elf came along to paint the kids' faces, and Santa even made an appearance.
They say that everyone has a calling. This elf has found hers. She was just. Amazing.
Miss 5 had her face painted like a lion. A full face lion. And she looked brilliant. Even little dobs of glitter!
Master 3 went next and asked for a dinosaur. If a child had have asked me, as a face painting elf, for a dinosaur, I think I would have convinced them they wanted something else. But no, she took it on and made Master 3 into a scary little dinosaur, so much so that he took it upon himself to growl, rather loudly and with hand actions, at everyone who he saw. Repeatedly. Santa included.
Miss 4, though initially wanting to be a tiger, opted to be a pink butterfly instead. And she just looked a picture.
The elf could also make animals out of balloons. I can barely even hold a balloon let alone twist it into a shape. The girls both got dogs. Master 3 requested…..wait for it….. a dinosaur. And. She. Made one. Wow. Just. Amazing.
Santa visited, as I mentioned, and everyone got a fabulous present. Miss 5 did amazingly well not to spontaneously combust with excitement and anticipation as she was second last to receive her gift. And we got a Santa photo. Albeit the kids with painted faces, but a Santa photo nonetheless. Oh, and earlier on, my mum had taken a great shot of me and the three. So good that I think I will get it blown up.
Now after a day like that you would think the kids would sleep on the way home wouldn't you? Well, Master 3 did, waking up 10 minutes before we arrived home, and crying that entire time.
And as they were all awake I had to get their face paint off. Yet another tick for face paint chick. The pain came off with ease. That said, it did require a small amount of scrubbing. Enough to ensure the kids were "awake" for a good hour more.
They did eventually go to bed. And all slept in their own beds. All night. Gold.
This morning was another highly anticipated event. A visit to the Hyatt for brunch.
I truly adore the Hyatt brunch. Adore it. And anyone who likes sweets, even a little bit, would probably adore it even more. Me, well, I like the meat and antipasto stations. Faaaabulous indeed.
To top it off we were meeting up with another very dear friend and her little folks. We had a sensational day. Sensational. Master 3 fell asleep within 10 minutes of leaving. I wasn't going to waste this. So I opted to keep driving. Let him sleep. And encourage the girls to remain quiet, which would then, hopefully, inspire them to sleep also…..
It. Worked.
And hell, I'll do it again. Gladly. It is worth the however much you spend in petrol and the aimless driving just to know they are having a well needed nap. And it gave my ears a rest too.
We had aimed to do a few more things today, but that just didn't eventuate. At least I got most of the washing folded. Not by choice. Miss 4 wanted a specific pair of shorts. They were in the baskets. Somewhere. So I figured I may as well fold on the way. Pretty good thinking.
And now the house is silent. I can hear the buzz of the fridge and the whir of the ceiling fan.
And this weekend has also reinforced something to me. Choose to spend your time with positive people. Friends who bring out the best in you, not make you question yourself. Friends who will hear you out, and lean on you when they need support.
Sometimes we have negative people in our life because we feel we need to maintain connections with them. What we don't realise is that by allowing these negative people to take our time we are denying ourselves the opportunity to spend that time with positive people who will enrich our lives.
Sometimes we spend so much time trying to find the good in people that we fail to realise that the reason it is taking so long to find the good is that the bad far outweighs it.
Move on.
Find people who make you the best you you can be. And do the same for them.
Life can be truly wonderful. You just need to work with it.
Friday 20 December 2013
The first day of the holidays
is always the hardest. Not for any reason other than there is a mental mindset attached to it. This is it. You are home with your children and will be for weeks.
Weeks.
There is an element of terror to it also. Granted I have 3 1/2 weeks off work, which is fabulous, but it isn't as though I'm going to have a relaxing holiday now is it…..?
Be that as it may, I wanted to have a full day today, so that's what we did.
We started with a sleep in. Thank. God. For. That. Well, they didn't really sleep in that much. But I slothed in bed after they had got up because I could. Simple truth.
I did eventually get up, and didn't have a coffee, nor did I have anything to eat, because weeks and weeks ago I went to the doctor and he ordered some blood tests and these tests needed to be done fasting.
Have you any idea how difficult it is to not have a cup of coffee when you have three children who fail in the sleep area? It is weeks difficult. And then some.
But today I thought I just have to do it because if I don't then I won't and then there you go. I won't have any results. Because I won't have done the tests.
Anyway, I didn't eat, I didn't drink, and we headed out to the blood collection place after Play School finished. 10am. Yes. Still no coffee.
We got into the collection room and I sat down in the padded chair, the kids roamed, I said "Just sit down over there please" and they all did.
The phlebotomist was astounded. And when another staff member came through the door and I said "Careful, there are children behind there" the first lady recounted the story of the kids all sitting down. Then the second one engaged in some small talk etc and then said "So is mummy going to give you some nice presents for Christmas?"
Seriously.
"Noooo, SANTA is."
Cue nervous breakdown from staff member. And ridiculously long talk engaging with the kids to make up for the stupidity previously displayed.
Blood test midway, phone rings. My phone. In my bag. She says "Do you need to get that?" And I said "Um, no." I have a needle in my vein sucking my blood out. I can't exactly reach for the phone now can I?
So we finished up there, I told the kids how proud of them I was, and then bundled them all back in the car.
It was hot again today. I had a brainwave of genius. Let's get a paddle pool.
So we headed off to Westfield and as we were just about to drive in I realised that sometimes I can be smart and sometimes I can be stupid. Today fell somewhat more in column B. It is 5 days before Christmas.
Then I thought I would use this to my advantage. So in we went and I thought yes, I can do it, I can get the Santa photo done too. So we chugged along and ended up right outside Santa's chair.
"So let's get a photo with Santa."
"No."
Great. Start.
"Come on, it'll be great! We missed out last year" (*don't ask, truly, just don't) "so it would be great to get one this year.
"We had a photo with Santa yesterday."
"That was at daycare, and it wasn't everyone."
"It was still a photo with Santa."
I was not going to win. I didn't even try to push it. You just have to pick your battles.
So we grabbed some food (rubbish food, care factor slightly close to zero because I know they eat well "most" of the time), the kids were brilliantly behaved, and I felt pretty chuffed.
So after they finished we had a roam around the store and didn't find what we wanted so opted to head to the hardware store. As you do.
And so genius heads towards Highpoint. I remind you. 5 days before Christmas.
I must say though, it was far less busy at the hardware store than I thought it would be. Perhaps they were all over at Highpoint.
We entered the store. First thing I saw was a travel escalator thingy whatsit (that is the technical term for it). In a hardware store. A two storey hardware store. Crikey me.
Second thing I saw was an inflatable pool. For under $50. Gold. Sheer. Gold.
Note to self: Inflatable items require a pump. Refer to this point later.
So we kept on looking around the store, up stairs and down, outside and in, and had a lovely old time, then bought the pool, and a hose. Well, we had to get the hose first. Miss 5 got it off the shelf. Miss 4 wanted to hold it.
"Muuuuuuuum! She's not sharing."
"It's a hose."
"But she's not shaaaaaring it."
"It's. A. Hose."
A hose. They are fighting over a hose.
So we go to pay, go to auto checkout and Miss 5 keenly begins scanning the hose. Repeatedly. Such that we have to seek assistance to remove the exuberantly scanned items from the list.
And then Master 3 wants to scan the pool.
"I can do it by myself!"
"It's very heavy you know."
"But I'm big and strong!!!!"
"I know you are baby, but it is veeeery heavy."
*grunt* *struggle* *grunt*
"Mum, I need some help please."
Awww. But he did give it a red hot go.
So hose and pool purchased, we get back to the car, and the request for Christmas carols comes. So I whack the Youtube on the phone and Christmas carols filled the air. Joy.
Miss 5 made an observation. "There are lots of fake Santas."
I corrected that there are not "fake" Santas, but there are lots of helpers for Santa.
Miss 5 then stated that the fake Santas are everywhere, but the real Santa lives at the north pole.
Miss 4 said "Can we go to the north pole?"
I explained to her that it was a little bit far.
Her comment? "Well, we can sleep in the car." Yes. Yes you can. But we can't exactly drive there.
We stopped on the way at our obligatory babycino store. Miss 5 is usually not present at these outings being that it is a Friday that they occur and she is usually at school, but today she was. We got to the counter at the cafe and she turned to me, shoved her hand unceremoniously between her legs and said "I have to go to the toilet."
Now in the entire year we have been going to this place, we have never needed to find the toilets. So I had to ask. We found them. Over the other corner of the store. The enormous store. And as we were heading back someone shouted out "Did you want to decorate a gingerbread man?" Miss 5 saw and ran towards the balloons and sugar smell. The other two bolted in the other direction. I called to them, indicated that there was something fun, and they followed.
They all sat down and focused on their gingerbread men. And the woman came over and asked how the day was going. And I said to her "This is the quietest they have been all day. Thank you." And she laughed, knowingly. That woman has children. You mark my words.
And they finished decorating their little men, smiled and waved and said thank you and we headed back to the cafe, I got my coffee, they got their babycinos and we sat down and they ate their gingerbread men.
We headed home.
As soon as we were through the door the kids were naked. Just like that.
"Where's my bathers??????"
"I haven't even got the pool set up yet."
So I denuded all the kids then set to the pool. We have a pump that we got with a lilo. It didn't fit the pool. I started blowing the pool up. I started getting dizzy. I told the kids we would have to wait and opted to attach the hose to the tap and squirt them so at least they got wet.
Good lord. What the HELL was I thinking?
Miss 5 had goggles on, in anticipation of showing me how she can put her face in the water. No pool, no face in water. Goggles remained on.
Miss 4 wanted goggles on because she didn't want the water to get in her face. I explained that Miss 5 had the goggles on in anticipation of the pool, and then asked Miss 5 to remove said goggles because they weren't really necessary.
Master 3 ran up the back end of the yard because he didn't want to get wet, even though he was in his bathers and ready to jump into the pool, if it had ever got set up, which of course it didn't.
And Miss 4 was sitting in a heap beside the garage howling because the water was going in her eyes.
Give. Me. Strength.
So I turned the hose off to tell Miss 4 she could either cut the howling and go inside or stop it and start enjoying the water as the others were, at which time Miss 5 started screaming because she was cold with the water on her and the air around her and promptly burst into tears which then made Master 3 burst into tears.
And I had three hysterical children dressed in bathers in my back yard.
Fabulous.
I got them all inside. Eventually. I got them all dried. Eventually. I looked in the fridge and saw a bottle of gin. And wanted it. Didn't have it. Wanted it. All. Right then.
Non-parents just don't understand. Neither do parents who are absent (*mutters under breath*).
There is so much more I could say, but I think I have rabbited on long enough. To give you an indication of the rest of the day, when Master 3 brought the sauce to the table at dinner time and I asked him if he had shut the fridge the response was "I've only got two hands!"
Ah yes. Children. *mutter mutter*
Weeks.
There is an element of terror to it also. Granted I have 3 1/2 weeks off work, which is fabulous, but it isn't as though I'm going to have a relaxing holiday now is it…..?
Be that as it may, I wanted to have a full day today, so that's what we did.
We started with a sleep in. Thank. God. For. That. Well, they didn't really sleep in that much. But I slothed in bed after they had got up because I could. Simple truth.
I did eventually get up, and didn't have a coffee, nor did I have anything to eat, because weeks and weeks ago I went to the doctor and he ordered some blood tests and these tests needed to be done fasting.
Have you any idea how difficult it is to not have a cup of coffee when you have three children who fail in the sleep area? It is weeks difficult. And then some.
But today I thought I just have to do it because if I don't then I won't and then there you go. I won't have any results. Because I won't have done the tests.
Anyway, I didn't eat, I didn't drink, and we headed out to the blood collection place after Play School finished. 10am. Yes. Still no coffee.
We got into the collection room and I sat down in the padded chair, the kids roamed, I said "Just sit down over there please" and they all did.
The phlebotomist was astounded. And when another staff member came through the door and I said "Careful, there are children behind there" the first lady recounted the story of the kids all sitting down. Then the second one engaged in some small talk etc and then said "So is mummy going to give you some nice presents for Christmas?"
Seriously.
"Noooo, SANTA is."
Cue nervous breakdown from staff member. And ridiculously long talk engaging with the kids to make up for the stupidity previously displayed.
Blood test midway, phone rings. My phone. In my bag. She says "Do you need to get that?" And I said "Um, no." I have a needle in my vein sucking my blood out. I can't exactly reach for the phone now can I?
So we finished up there, I told the kids how proud of them I was, and then bundled them all back in the car.
It was hot again today. I had a brainwave of genius. Let's get a paddle pool.
So we headed off to Westfield and as we were just about to drive in I realised that sometimes I can be smart and sometimes I can be stupid. Today fell somewhat more in column B. It is 5 days before Christmas.
Then I thought I would use this to my advantage. So in we went and I thought yes, I can do it, I can get the Santa photo done too. So we chugged along and ended up right outside Santa's chair.
"So let's get a photo with Santa."
"No."
Great. Start.
"Come on, it'll be great! We missed out last year" (*don't ask, truly, just don't) "so it would be great to get one this year.
"We had a photo with Santa yesterday."
"That was at daycare, and it wasn't everyone."
"It was still a photo with Santa."
I was not going to win. I didn't even try to push it. You just have to pick your battles.
So we grabbed some food (rubbish food, care factor slightly close to zero because I know they eat well "most" of the time), the kids were brilliantly behaved, and I felt pretty chuffed.
So after they finished we had a roam around the store and didn't find what we wanted so opted to head to the hardware store. As you do.
And so genius heads towards Highpoint. I remind you. 5 days before Christmas.
I must say though, it was far less busy at the hardware store than I thought it would be. Perhaps they were all over at Highpoint.
We entered the store. First thing I saw was a travel escalator thingy whatsit (that is the technical term for it). In a hardware store. A two storey hardware store. Crikey me.
Second thing I saw was an inflatable pool. For under $50. Gold. Sheer. Gold.
Note to self: Inflatable items require a pump. Refer to this point later.
So we kept on looking around the store, up stairs and down, outside and in, and had a lovely old time, then bought the pool, and a hose. Well, we had to get the hose first. Miss 5 got it off the shelf. Miss 4 wanted to hold it.
"Muuuuuuuum! She's not sharing."
"It's a hose."
"But she's not shaaaaaring it."
"It's. A. Hose."
A hose. They are fighting over a hose.
So we go to pay, go to auto checkout and Miss 5 keenly begins scanning the hose. Repeatedly. Such that we have to seek assistance to remove the exuberantly scanned items from the list.
And then Master 3 wants to scan the pool.
"I can do it by myself!"
"It's very heavy you know."
"But I'm big and strong!!!!"
"I know you are baby, but it is veeeery heavy."
*grunt* *struggle* *grunt*
"Mum, I need some help please."
Awww. But he did give it a red hot go.
So hose and pool purchased, we get back to the car, and the request for Christmas carols comes. So I whack the Youtube on the phone and Christmas carols filled the air. Joy.
Miss 5 made an observation. "There are lots of fake Santas."
I corrected that there are not "fake" Santas, but there are lots of helpers for Santa.
Miss 5 then stated that the fake Santas are everywhere, but the real Santa lives at the north pole.
Miss 4 said "Can we go to the north pole?"
I explained to her that it was a little bit far.
Her comment? "Well, we can sleep in the car." Yes. Yes you can. But we can't exactly drive there.
We stopped on the way at our obligatory babycino store. Miss 5 is usually not present at these outings being that it is a Friday that they occur and she is usually at school, but today she was. We got to the counter at the cafe and she turned to me, shoved her hand unceremoniously between her legs and said "I have to go to the toilet."
Now in the entire year we have been going to this place, we have never needed to find the toilets. So I had to ask. We found them. Over the other corner of the store. The enormous store. And as we were heading back someone shouted out "Did you want to decorate a gingerbread man?" Miss 5 saw and ran towards the balloons and sugar smell. The other two bolted in the other direction. I called to them, indicated that there was something fun, and they followed.
They all sat down and focused on their gingerbread men. And the woman came over and asked how the day was going. And I said to her "This is the quietest they have been all day. Thank you." And she laughed, knowingly. That woman has children. You mark my words.
And they finished decorating their little men, smiled and waved and said thank you and we headed back to the cafe, I got my coffee, they got their babycinos and we sat down and they ate their gingerbread men.
We headed home.
As soon as we were through the door the kids were naked. Just like that.
"Where's my bathers??????"
"I haven't even got the pool set up yet."
So I denuded all the kids then set to the pool. We have a pump that we got with a lilo. It didn't fit the pool. I started blowing the pool up. I started getting dizzy. I told the kids we would have to wait and opted to attach the hose to the tap and squirt them so at least they got wet.
Good lord. What the HELL was I thinking?
Miss 5 had goggles on, in anticipation of showing me how she can put her face in the water. No pool, no face in water. Goggles remained on.
Miss 4 wanted goggles on because she didn't want the water to get in her face. I explained that Miss 5 had the goggles on in anticipation of the pool, and then asked Miss 5 to remove said goggles because they weren't really necessary.
Master 3 ran up the back end of the yard because he didn't want to get wet, even though he was in his bathers and ready to jump into the pool, if it had ever got set up, which of course it didn't.
And Miss 4 was sitting in a heap beside the garage howling because the water was going in her eyes.
Give. Me. Strength.
So I turned the hose off to tell Miss 4 she could either cut the howling and go inside or stop it and start enjoying the water as the others were, at which time Miss 5 started screaming because she was cold with the water on her and the air around her and promptly burst into tears which then made Master 3 burst into tears.
And I had three hysterical children dressed in bathers in my back yard.
Fabulous.
I got them all inside. Eventually. I got them all dried. Eventually. I looked in the fridge and saw a bottle of gin. And wanted it. Didn't have it. Wanted it. All. Right then.
Non-parents just don't understand. Neither do parents who are absent (*mutters under breath*).
There is so much more I could say, but I think I have rabbited on long enough. To give you an indication of the rest of the day, when Master 3 brought the sauce to the table at dinner time and I asked him if he had shut the fridge the response was "I've only got two hands!"
Ah yes. Children. *mutter mutter*
Thursday 19 December 2013
Just a bit hot
today. Kinda like a lot hot.
Thankfully this house has air-conditioning, albeit old and fairly archaic, air-conditioning nonetheless.
I was a bit tired this morning. Last night was not exactly restful, which I think is probably fairly self-evident if you read last night's (this morning's) blog.
Anyway, I thought it would be fine to just take it easy and relax. After all, Miss 5 wasn't going to school today, and it was the other two's last day at daycare, so I figured we could chillax and go slow.
That was until I remembered I had actually made plans to meet with someone this morning. Oh. Crap. So then we had to go hell for leather getting everyone ready, as you do, and of course we couldn't find any shoes.
I swear to God, in the middle of the night someone comes and hides one of every shoe. It is much like socks in the dryer. Shoes in a house in the middle of the night result in only one shoe being visible the next morning.
We did get out of the house. Late. But that is nothing unusual. We are often late. Often. Although on that note, Miss 5 has listed on her report (which arrived on Monday and I was rapt with) that she has only been "late" once!!! They are seriously so lenient with me. Gotta love that.
Anyway, I digress. Again. What was I talking about? *reads back*.
Oh, that, that's right. Meeting a friend. So I dropped the younger two off, in less than perfect circumstances, which has been happening, but what can you do, and then off to meet up with a friend, who, as her text told me, was also running late. Gotta love that.
So we got there. And Miss 5's eyes lit up as we walked past the cabinets that were full of cakes and muffins and biscuits.
You should have seen them light up even more when I told her she could have whatever she wanted. I could hear the inward gasp as I said those words, and the look on her face was worth every cent I would spend on whatever it was that she wanted, and then some.
Her first choice was lemon meringue pie. Then I explained what it was. So she changed. To berry cheesecake. And I explained to her what that was. And so she settled on a massive triple choc cookie. Good choice mini chick. I opted for coffee and eggs florentine. Or something. From which I removed the spinach and replaced it with crispy bacon. As you do. Miss 5 ate a good schlack of it anyway once she had demolished her cookie and babycino.
And I had a lovely catchup with some truly wonderful friends (the genuine type, not those fair weather friends or toxic friends about which I seemed to have a bee in my bonnet last night). So that was good too.
We went to the fruit and veg wholesaler, we did some craft, we cuddled a lot, we played around a lot, we just had a lovely day.
And I introduced her to Siri. Siri is fabulous. For those non-iPhone users, Siri is a voice activated thingy whatsit (the technical term) that lets you tell 'her' what you want or need and she will do it or find it. For example, you can update your Facebook status by telling her what you want to put in there, find out what the weather is, find specific restaurants near where you are, or my personal favourite, use her as a calculator so you don't have to type in the figures in your phone…. or find where the calculator on the phone is…
So I let her ask Siri the questions. Well, in reality she would whisper the questions to me and I would ask Siri.
Here was the conversation……
"Do you have a pet"
"I have an angry bird."
"How old are you"
"I am not allowed to answer that question.
"Why not"
"I don't know. Frankly, I've wondered that myself."
Giggles from Miss 5.
"Do you eat strawberry once a day"
"No, not recently. Never, in fact."
"Do you love your pet"
"I really have no opinion"
"Do you like despicable me"
"I have not seen Despicable Me."
"Have you seen Hi 5"
"I have not"
"Do you like stickers"
"This is about you, not me."
"Sorry I love my children and I need to pick them up"
"It's ok, really."
We could have kept going all day I think. She loved it. Her mum's daughter that one.
Master 3 decided to pretend tonight. What did he pretend? Sleep running. Because he has heard the story I told of Miss 5 sleep running straight into the kitchen bench, bouncing off, falling to the ground, getting up and then proceeding to run off again.
So he decided to pretend to sleep run. What did that involve? Master 3 closing his eyes and running. Full pelt. Oh. God. Seriously. This child is going to be the bloody death of me. I maintain he is the cause of 99% of my grey hairs.
And eventually tonight, in this horrific heat, I managed to get all the kids to bed and to sleep.
For those of you who do not have or know a sleepwalker, hot weather exacerbates sleepwalking. At least in this house it does.
So it wasn't long before Miss 5 sleepwalked out to point to a spot on her nighty and commence to walk wonkily, I then assisted just in time for her leg to stop walking and go limp, like those little toys you push the bottom and the legs collapse, and escorted her back to bed.
She's back there now. At least for the moment. They are all in bed. It is quiet here. And tomorrow is another day.
No idea what that day will involve. None. Of one thing you can be certain though. There will be a full gamut of emotion. It wouldn't be a day with the kids without that.
Thankfully this house has air-conditioning, albeit old and fairly archaic, air-conditioning nonetheless.
I was a bit tired this morning. Last night was not exactly restful, which I think is probably fairly self-evident if you read last night's (this morning's) blog.
Anyway, I thought it would be fine to just take it easy and relax. After all, Miss 5 wasn't going to school today, and it was the other two's last day at daycare, so I figured we could chillax and go slow.
That was until I remembered I had actually made plans to meet with someone this morning. Oh. Crap. So then we had to go hell for leather getting everyone ready, as you do, and of course we couldn't find any shoes.
I swear to God, in the middle of the night someone comes and hides one of every shoe. It is much like socks in the dryer. Shoes in a house in the middle of the night result in only one shoe being visible the next morning.
We did get out of the house. Late. But that is nothing unusual. We are often late. Often. Although on that note, Miss 5 has listed on her report (which arrived on Monday and I was rapt with) that she has only been "late" once!!! They are seriously so lenient with me. Gotta love that.
Anyway, I digress. Again. What was I talking about? *reads back*.
Oh, that, that's right. Meeting a friend. So I dropped the younger two off, in less than perfect circumstances, which has been happening, but what can you do, and then off to meet up with a friend, who, as her text told me, was also running late. Gotta love that.
So we got there. And Miss 5's eyes lit up as we walked past the cabinets that were full of cakes and muffins and biscuits.
You should have seen them light up even more when I told her she could have whatever she wanted. I could hear the inward gasp as I said those words, and the look on her face was worth every cent I would spend on whatever it was that she wanted, and then some.
Her first choice was lemon meringue pie. Then I explained what it was. So she changed. To berry cheesecake. And I explained to her what that was. And so she settled on a massive triple choc cookie. Good choice mini chick. I opted for coffee and eggs florentine. Or something. From which I removed the spinach and replaced it with crispy bacon. As you do. Miss 5 ate a good schlack of it anyway once she had demolished her cookie and babycino.
And I had a lovely catchup with some truly wonderful friends (the genuine type, not those fair weather friends or toxic friends about which I seemed to have a bee in my bonnet last night). So that was good too.
We went to the fruit and veg wholesaler, we did some craft, we cuddled a lot, we played around a lot, we just had a lovely day.
And I introduced her to Siri. Siri is fabulous. For those non-iPhone users, Siri is a voice activated thingy whatsit (the technical term) that lets you tell 'her' what you want or need and she will do it or find it. For example, you can update your Facebook status by telling her what you want to put in there, find out what the weather is, find specific restaurants near where you are, or my personal favourite, use her as a calculator so you don't have to type in the figures in your phone…. or find where the calculator on the phone is…
So I let her ask Siri the questions. Well, in reality she would whisper the questions to me and I would ask Siri.
Here was the conversation……
"Do you have a pet"
"I have an angry bird."
"How old are you"
"I am not allowed to answer that question.
"Why not"
"I don't know. Frankly, I've wondered that myself."
Giggles from Miss 5.
"Do you eat strawberry once a day"
"No, not recently. Never, in fact."
"Do you love your pet"
"I really have no opinion"
"Do you like despicable me"
"I have not seen Despicable Me."
"Have you seen Hi 5"
"I have not"
"Do you like stickers"
"This is about you, not me."
"Sorry I love my children and I need to pick them up"
"It's ok, really."
We could have kept going all day I think. She loved it. Her mum's daughter that one.
Master 3 decided to pretend tonight. What did he pretend? Sleep running. Because he has heard the story I told of Miss 5 sleep running straight into the kitchen bench, bouncing off, falling to the ground, getting up and then proceeding to run off again.
So he decided to pretend to sleep run. What did that involve? Master 3 closing his eyes and running. Full pelt. Oh. God. Seriously. This child is going to be the bloody death of me. I maintain he is the cause of 99% of my grey hairs.
And eventually tonight, in this horrific heat, I managed to get all the kids to bed and to sleep.
For those of you who do not have or know a sleepwalker, hot weather exacerbates sleepwalking. At least in this house it does.
So it wasn't long before Miss 5 sleepwalked out to point to a spot on her nighty and commence to walk wonkily, I then assisted just in time for her leg to stop walking and go limp, like those little toys you push the bottom and the legs collapse, and escorted her back to bed.
She's back there now. At least for the moment. They are all in bed. It is quiet here. And tomorrow is another day.
No idea what that day will involve. None. Of one thing you can be certain though. There will be a full gamut of emotion. It wouldn't be a day with the kids without that.
Wednesday 18 December 2013
1.20am
And she has just gone to sleep.
Finally.
I have told you before, there is a list a mile long of those things that they don't tell you.
This is one of them.
You put the child to bed at 8pm and they go to sleep.
And then they wake up at 9pm. and 9.03pm. And 9.06pm. And they keep on waking up.
And the first time they will want water.
The second time they will want their blanket on.
The third time they will want more water.
And so it goes.
And then there are the nights, like tonight, where they wake up because they hurt.
And you hear the groan and you just will them to stop.
And they don't.
That groan continues. But still you hope.
But hope gives you nothing.
You can try Panadol but then again they may not be in the mood to take it. So you need to then justify the need for the Panadol for the next 15 minutes. Until they finally do take it.
And whilst that seems so simple, it is now 1.24am and I have only just managed to get Miss 4 to take the Panadol.
And it is times like this that writing expresses so very little. It doesn't show the tears that are streaming down my face right now because I am so bloody tired and so awake at the same time. The fact that I know that even when I do go to bed I'm not going to get any sleep. And the fact that I will wake up tomorrow and drop the younger two off at school and have Miss 5 for the day because school is finished but really can't afford to actually "do" anything with her.
That is if I can actually drop Miss 4 off. Because, well, I just don't know now.
This time of the night/morning is probably the worst.
In all regards.
Because you are tired. You are emotional. And you say things you just otherwise wouldn't say. Because it is late and you are awake and who really cares anyway?
Nobody.
That's who.
I have me. And I have my babies. And they are all that matter.
And they are the only people on whom I can rely.
Ever.
You just can't trust anyone. People lie. People use you. People are insincere. And people will do whatever they can for themselves. At the cost of others.
I don't have the time or the energy for that.
It's 1.30am. I am tired. And I can't sleep.
Aside from Miss 4 not sleeping I'm also thinking.
People I thought were true friends aren't.
Things I thought were fact are not.
I should have listened to myself. You cannot trust anyone. Ever.
So they shall be today's words of wisdom.
Never. Trust. Anyone.
Cynical? Yes. Necessary? I think so.
I challenge anyone to show me otherwise.
Finally.
I have told you before, there is a list a mile long of those things that they don't tell you.
This is one of them.
You put the child to bed at 8pm and they go to sleep.
And then they wake up at 9pm. and 9.03pm. And 9.06pm. And they keep on waking up.
And the first time they will want water.
The second time they will want their blanket on.
The third time they will want more water.
And so it goes.
And then there are the nights, like tonight, where they wake up because they hurt.
And you hear the groan and you just will them to stop.
And they don't.
That groan continues. But still you hope.
But hope gives you nothing.
You can try Panadol but then again they may not be in the mood to take it. So you need to then justify the need for the Panadol for the next 15 minutes. Until they finally do take it.
And whilst that seems so simple, it is now 1.24am and I have only just managed to get Miss 4 to take the Panadol.
And it is times like this that writing expresses so very little. It doesn't show the tears that are streaming down my face right now because I am so bloody tired and so awake at the same time. The fact that I know that even when I do go to bed I'm not going to get any sleep. And the fact that I will wake up tomorrow and drop the younger two off at school and have Miss 5 for the day because school is finished but really can't afford to actually "do" anything with her.
That is if I can actually drop Miss 4 off. Because, well, I just don't know now.
This time of the night/morning is probably the worst.
In all regards.
Because you are tired. You are emotional. And you say things you just otherwise wouldn't say. Because it is late and you are awake and who really cares anyway?
Nobody.
That's who.
I have me. And I have my babies. And they are all that matter.
And they are the only people on whom I can rely.
Ever.
You just can't trust anyone. People lie. People use you. People are insincere. And people will do whatever they can for themselves. At the cost of others.
I don't have the time or the energy for that.
It's 1.30am. I am tired. And I can't sleep.
Aside from Miss 4 not sleeping I'm also thinking.
People I thought were true friends aren't.
Things I thought were fact are not.
I should have listened to myself. You cannot trust anyone. Ever.
So they shall be today's words of wisdom.
Never. Trust. Anyone.
Cynical? Yes. Necessary? I think so.
I challenge anyone to show me otherwise.
I only like dirt and sand.
That was the response I received from Miss 4 when I asked why she was so dirty.
She was filthy. Like filthy filthy. Nails needed cutting because cleaning them wouldn't cut it. Her skin had literally changed colour.
I guess I should be thankful for small mercies. She burns easily, so at least the layer of dirt would have acted as somewhat of a sunscreen for her.
Today was a busy day. Busy busy day.
Miss 5's last day at school in her first year at school. Half a day. I'm not quite sure why she had to go to school today, but she did.
Consequently I did half a day at work. Which was good but rushed. Still managed to fit in a nice coffee though. Priorities.
My nephew turned 5 today. I had set a reminder. It went off whilst I was on the phone to someone, and I didn't have a second reminder, so that went through and out off somewhere else again, only to be remembered after an enormous day, and not until 9.30pm at night. Far from ideal, and not intended in the slightest, and I will probably beat myself up about it for the next two weeks, even though I know I have had his birthday present sitting on my dresser for weeks and will be seeing him in a few days. Still, I hate it when things don't go as I have them planned in my head. And in my head today went differently.
But I can't beat myself up about that because I can't change it. I do the absolute very best I can. Sometimes from outsiders' points of view it may seem that I have not even thought about something, but in reality I have, repeatedly, but events occur and things happen and I lose track of it.
I left the house this morning in a rush. Why? Because the kids just wouldn't listen. They wouldn't do as they were told. And I yelled, which I hate doing, and I threw my hands up in the air and I damn near cried because sometimes I just hate that I have to do all this by myself.
And I knew it was the last day of school today and there were things that had to be done and I wanted to be done and we left the house with that many stunted stops and starts that by the time I dropped the kids off at daycare it was already fluster city, and when I went to drop Miss 5 off at school I knew I had forgotten something but had no idea what.
It became apparent when she saw her buddy in the hallway and she gave her a Christmas present.
Crap.
That.
And then I realised I had also forgotten my bosses Christmas present.
Double crap.
So yes, sometimes things may seem organised and all well, when in fact in reality there is an absolute whirlpool going on underneath.
I was made to feel terrible about the buddy present thing. By Miss 5. But thankfully have a gorgeous friend who is helping me to get it to Miss 5's buddy, by way of her grade 6 child. So I am most grateful in that regard.
I had a lot of other things I wanted to say.
I can't remember them. I didn't write them down.
Oh, yes, we had the daycare Christmas party today. They had a petting zoo. It was fabulous. Truly fabulous. Mini horse, baby piglets, goats, other furry things, chickens and a goose with a sequin top and a dog wearing antlers. Amazing.
Think back.
Miss 4 was taken to the Geelong Show last year. We went to the petting zoo part. She screamed when a duck looked at her. She squawked if any animal even moved in her general direction.
Santa was at the party this afternoon too.
Last year we didn't get a Santa photo. Miss 4 was too strong by that stage.
So you can understand my surprise when I was able to get a photograph of Miss 4 with Santa, and a separate photograph of Miss 4 patting a tiny little horse.
Un. Believable.
They ate too much sugar there. I know they did. It's a party. That's what kids do at parties.
I couldn't wait to leave though, once Santa had given his little gift to everyone. Because I didn't want the sugar to keep flowing. As it was, once we finally managed to escape, there was still sugar. Because Santa gave them a lolly bag. And a book. The book I think is fabulous. The lolly bag, um, just a tad unnecessary. But the kids loved it. And, well, I won't rabbit on.
So eventually they went to bed. And then some time later to sleep.
And I have been sitting in a sort of numb stupor since then.
Because I don't have a child in grade prep anymore.
And very soon I will have two children in school.
And a year later three.
And they are right. They just grow up so fast. Hug them. Kiss them. Play with them. Be there for them. Because they just grow up so damn fast.
She was filthy. Like filthy filthy. Nails needed cutting because cleaning them wouldn't cut it. Her skin had literally changed colour.
I guess I should be thankful for small mercies. She burns easily, so at least the layer of dirt would have acted as somewhat of a sunscreen for her.
Today was a busy day. Busy busy day.
Miss 5's last day at school in her first year at school. Half a day. I'm not quite sure why she had to go to school today, but she did.
Consequently I did half a day at work. Which was good but rushed. Still managed to fit in a nice coffee though. Priorities.
My nephew turned 5 today. I had set a reminder. It went off whilst I was on the phone to someone, and I didn't have a second reminder, so that went through and out off somewhere else again, only to be remembered after an enormous day, and not until 9.30pm at night. Far from ideal, and not intended in the slightest, and I will probably beat myself up about it for the next two weeks, even though I know I have had his birthday present sitting on my dresser for weeks and will be seeing him in a few days. Still, I hate it when things don't go as I have them planned in my head. And in my head today went differently.
But I can't beat myself up about that because I can't change it. I do the absolute very best I can. Sometimes from outsiders' points of view it may seem that I have not even thought about something, but in reality I have, repeatedly, but events occur and things happen and I lose track of it.
I left the house this morning in a rush. Why? Because the kids just wouldn't listen. They wouldn't do as they were told. And I yelled, which I hate doing, and I threw my hands up in the air and I damn near cried because sometimes I just hate that I have to do all this by myself.
And I knew it was the last day of school today and there were things that had to be done and I wanted to be done and we left the house with that many stunted stops and starts that by the time I dropped the kids off at daycare it was already fluster city, and when I went to drop Miss 5 off at school I knew I had forgotten something but had no idea what.
It became apparent when she saw her buddy in the hallway and she gave her a Christmas present.
Crap.
That.
And then I realised I had also forgotten my bosses Christmas present.
Double crap.
So yes, sometimes things may seem organised and all well, when in fact in reality there is an absolute whirlpool going on underneath.
I was made to feel terrible about the buddy present thing. By Miss 5. But thankfully have a gorgeous friend who is helping me to get it to Miss 5's buddy, by way of her grade 6 child. So I am most grateful in that regard.
I had a lot of other things I wanted to say.
I can't remember them. I didn't write them down.
Oh, yes, we had the daycare Christmas party today. They had a petting zoo. It was fabulous. Truly fabulous. Mini horse, baby piglets, goats, other furry things, chickens and a goose with a sequin top and a dog wearing antlers. Amazing.
Think back.
Miss 4 was taken to the Geelong Show last year. We went to the petting zoo part. She screamed when a duck looked at her. She squawked if any animal even moved in her general direction.
Santa was at the party this afternoon too.
Last year we didn't get a Santa photo. Miss 4 was too strong by that stage.
So you can understand my surprise when I was able to get a photograph of Miss 4 with Santa, and a separate photograph of Miss 4 patting a tiny little horse.
Un. Believable.
They ate too much sugar there. I know they did. It's a party. That's what kids do at parties.
I couldn't wait to leave though, once Santa had given his little gift to everyone. Because I didn't want the sugar to keep flowing. As it was, once we finally managed to escape, there was still sugar. Because Santa gave them a lolly bag. And a book. The book I think is fabulous. The lolly bag, um, just a tad unnecessary. But the kids loved it. And, well, I won't rabbit on.
So eventually they went to bed. And then some time later to sleep.
And I have been sitting in a sort of numb stupor since then.
Because I don't have a child in grade prep anymore.
And very soon I will have two children in school.
And a year later three.
And they are right. They just grow up so fast. Hug them. Kiss them. Play with them. Be there for them. Because they just grow up so damn fast.
Tuesday 17 December 2013
I cried at school.
I didn't mean to. I couldn't help it.
Because I got into the classroom this morning and there were all the other prep mums, because today was the day we were giving a gift to the teachers (Miss 5 has 2 classroom teachers) and many of the mums were there to show their thanks.
And as everyone was buzzing around the room I heard someone say that today was transition and that after a short while the preps would be taken to their new grade 1/2 class. It was then that I realised that this was the last time my baby girl was in prep. This was it. Her last day as a preppie.
And she asked me to take a photo on my phone, which I gladly did, and she looked just beautiful as she always does. Listening to one of the other mums making a little speech before handing over the cards, which had been signed by nearly all of us, and the gifts it was evident that she was holding back the tears, an effort which eventually failed as she reached for the tissues. This very act prompted many more of us to follow suit as inadvertent floods of emotion made their way to the surface.
And then it dawned on me. All the preps were there. As were the teachers. And Miss 5 was not at the school when they had done class photos because we had not yet moved.
So I asked the teachers if they would mind if I took a photo of Miss 5 with her class all together. And the didn't. So now I also have a beautiful memento of my baby's classmates in her first year at school.
And as I walked out the door, waving through the window as Miss 5 followed my path outside only inside, blowing me kisses and waving as I did the same, I realised that I was far more emotional than I had ever thought I would become in these circumstances. Granted, I hadn't actually ever thought about the "last" day of prep. It is usually the first day or the first time doing something that gets the rap for being an emotion drawer. But this last day, this last day of my baby being the baby of the school, well, it was overwhelming. And the words said by the teachers, and the beautiful things they do, well, it all works together to add to the emotion.
I got in the car and began to drive to work, still feeling that lump in my throat. And I thought back to all the things Miss 5 had done to date, and then started thinking about the same with Miss 4 and Master 3 and before I knew it I was at work, and still felt emotional.
It lasted all day.
And then tonight she had a play date with a little girl from school who is not in her class this year, but whose brother goes to the same daycare as my two, and who we see on a fairly regular basis "in passing". So the play date was arranged before actually realising that Miss 5 and this little girl will in fact be in the same class next year.
Perfect. I love that.
And so in celebration of the day I took the kids to see the colonel. I had a voucher on a shop a docket, we hit the drive thru, and as they gave me the food I realised something.
They had given me vouchers.
What a fabulous day all round. Emotional. But fabulous.
Because I got into the classroom this morning and there were all the other prep mums, because today was the day we were giving a gift to the teachers (Miss 5 has 2 classroom teachers) and many of the mums were there to show their thanks.
And as everyone was buzzing around the room I heard someone say that today was transition and that after a short while the preps would be taken to their new grade 1/2 class. It was then that I realised that this was the last time my baby girl was in prep. This was it. Her last day as a preppie.
And she asked me to take a photo on my phone, which I gladly did, and she looked just beautiful as she always does. Listening to one of the other mums making a little speech before handing over the cards, which had been signed by nearly all of us, and the gifts it was evident that she was holding back the tears, an effort which eventually failed as she reached for the tissues. This very act prompted many more of us to follow suit as inadvertent floods of emotion made their way to the surface.
And then it dawned on me. All the preps were there. As were the teachers. And Miss 5 was not at the school when they had done class photos because we had not yet moved.
So I asked the teachers if they would mind if I took a photo of Miss 5 with her class all together. And the didn't. So now I also have a beautiful memento of my baby's classmates in her first year at school.
And as I walked out the door, waving through the window as Miss 5 followed my path outside only inside, blowing me kisses and waving as I did the same, I realised that I was far more emotional than I had ever thought I would become in these circumstances. Granted, I hadn't actually ever thought about the "last" day of prep. It is usually the first day or the first time doing something that gets the rap for being an emotion drawer. But this last day, this last day of my baby being the baby of the school, well, it was overwhelming. And the words said by the teachers, and the beautiful things they do, well, it all works together to add to the emotion.
I got in the car and began to drive to work, still feeling that lump in my throat. And I thought back to all the things Miss 5 had done to date, and then started thinking about the same with Miss 4 and Master 3 and before I knew it I was at work, and still felt emotional.
It lasted all day.
And then tonight she had a play date with a little girl from school who is not in her class this year, but whose brother goes to the same daycare as my two, and who we see on a fairly regular basis "in passing". So the play date was arranged before actually realising that Miss 5 and this little girl will in fact be in the same class next year.
Perfect. I love that.
And so in celebration of the day I took the kids to see the colonel. I had a voucher on a shop a docket, we hit the drive thru, and as they gave me the food I realised something.
They had given me vouchers.
What a fabulous day all round. Emotional. But fabulous.
Monday 16 December 2013
Getting a song stuck in your head
is annoying at the best of times.
But there are some situations where it is worse than usual.
a) When you do not actually know the song that is stuck in your head. It is a random melody with no words and in that regard you have no hope of ever being able to find out what it is called because there are no words that you can google.
b) When it is a theme song from a kid's show. "Little Princess" comes to mind. And makes you want to shove a knitting needle in your ear.
c) When it is a very annoying song. Or a very annoying artist. With a very annoying voice. Or a very annoying beat in said song.
d) When the song does not match your mood. You're feeling upbeat, happy, smiling for no reason, and all of a sudden "Everybody Hurts" flies into your brain. Instant. Downer. Vice versa though. You're sad, melancholy, meditative, and in comes Steps and "5, 6, 7, 8".
e) When you are in a quiet place, such as a library, or work, or at a funeral. And it is one of those songs that you inadvertently hum. And you do. Because you can't not.
f) It is "What does the fox say?"And you have "Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding" stuck there and you are physically cringing such that any innocent bystander would be forgiven for thinking you have gas.
g) When you can't recall how in all hell that particular song made it into your head, being that you haven't heard it since 1992.
h) When it reminds you of stupid things you did in 1992.
I could just keep on going.
Let's just say it sucks getting a song caught in your head. Unless it is a really good song. But then again, they say that too much of a good thing leads to said good thing turning sour.
They obviously didn't mean bacon. Obviously.
But there are some situations where it is worse than usual.
a) When you do not actually know the song that is stuck in your head. It is a random melody with no words and in that regard you have no hope of ever being able to find out what it is called because there are no words that you can google.
b) When it is a theme song from a kid's show. "Little Princess" comes to mind. And makes you want to shove a knitting needle in your ear.
c) When it is a very annoying song. Or a very annoying artist. With a very annoying voice. Or a very annoying beat in said song.
d) When the song does not match your mood. You're feeling upbeat, happy, smiling for no reason, and all of a sudden "Everybody Hurts" flies into your brain. Instant. Downer. Vice versa though. You're sad, melancholy, meditative, and in comes Steps and "5, 6, 7, 8".
e) When you are in a quiet place, such as a library, or work, or at a funeral. And it is one of those songs that you inadvertently hum. And you do. Because you can't not.
f) It is "What does the fox say?"And you have "Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding! Gering-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding" stuck there and you are physically cringing such that any innocent bystander would be forgiven for thinking you have gas.
g) When you can't recall how in all hell that particular song made it into your head, being that you haven't heard it since 1992.
h) When it reminds you of stupid things you did in 1992.
I could just keep on going.
Let's just say it sucks getting a song caught in your head. Unless it is a really good song. But then again, they say that too much of a good thing leads to said good thing turning sour.
They obviously didn't mean bacon. Obviously.
Sunday 15 December 2013
The house has changed.
That was the comment from Miss 5 when she returned from a weekend with her father.
"Yes, baby, it's tidy now."
That was the change. Things were put away. The three cyclones that continuously trash the place were absent for long enough that I could put it back into some semblance of order.
The kids loved it. Everything looks bigger.
That said, it didn't stop the carnage commencing as soon as the house even heard them approaching. I think it started throwing things up in preparation.
I would love to say that it will stay this way now I have got it to this point. Fact remains that that is not going to happen. It just can't. Because I have three children under 6 who don't think about those sorts of things. It is far more important to have your Mike the Knight shield and sword when it comes on the TV, or to involve every one of the little people in the farm setup, and to ensure that no doll is left out when it comes time for the tea party.
And much as I hate mess and I hate cleaning up toys and rubbish that is left all over the place, I'm all for role playing games and allowing the kids to express their creativity. So it's a fine line. We are trying to do the pack up after yourself thing, and to some extent it works. To some extent not so much.
I have lost count of the number of times I have told them I'll throw stuff out. And I do get to the point that I have a garbage bag in my hand, at which time the looks and cries of desperation interject and the toys get put away.
Yesterday was spent cleaning. A lot. But last night was my work Christmas party. Granted I work with only one other person who is a 74 year old fellow, and what a character he is. So we opted for a few glasses of champers and then a nice dinner at one of the bistros at Crown.
Well. The food was amazing. Absolutely truly amazing. And the ambience was brilliant. And the company was fabulous. My boss and I could talk the hind legs off a donkey. It's funny you know, he and I met at one of the Lawyers' Association dinners, not knowing each other, and hit it off straight away, talking as though we'd known each other for years.
That happens sometimes. At my old job, a new lady started and as she walked up to my desk we commenced a conversation as though it were halfway through, as though we had simply always known each other.
Anyway, several bottles of wine later, and well into the wee hours of the morning, I stumbled across the threshold, checked my emails then tumbled into bed.
When I awoke I turned, instantly expecting to see Miss 4. She wasn't there. And then I thought that the house was awfully quiet and I wondered if everyone could possibly still be asleep. And it was then I remembered that my babies were elsewhere. And I had such mixed emotions. Because I knew I could go back to sleep if I wanted, but I also missed them terribly right at that instant and just wanted to cuddle them.
That is the thing with motherhood. You can't turn it off. Even if I have a day to do things while the kids are at school or daycare I never leave them there the full time as if I were at work. Because I just miss them. I get antsy. And then they get home and try to rip each other's heads off and I wonder what the hell I was thinking getting them early. But you know what I mean. They are my little babies and I just love them so.
So today I did sleep in. Till around 9.15am. Fabulous. 2 cups of coffee and a bacon and egg buttie later and I ventured outside. Into the garage, filled the mower with fuel, and off I set on my merry mowing way (though I must admit I did take the time to put on sunscreen first because I am terribly sensitive to the sun, much as my little ones are too).
So mow mow mow and away we go.
That grass seriously grows so quickly.
And there is one area of grass that is a different sort to the rest. And it is, how shall I say, a little more "verdant" than the rest. It is lush. Thick. Spongey almost. And hellishly difficult to mow.
But I did it, all done now, back and front. I even attacked some of the weeds, and after about 15 minutes realised that I really did need some gardening gloves.
So I used the next bit of time far more wisely. I lay down on the grass and rolled around with my beautiful 14.5 year old dog. And as we were rolling around I felt yet another lump on his back. And I felt a tear come to my eye. Because my beautiful baby boy is getting old and is now visually impaired, has hearing loss, and is amassing lumps at a fairly regular rate. He isn't in pain, he still eats well, he still loves a cuddle. He's just getting old. And every day now I look out the window and wonder if I will see him. It is with much sadness that I remind myself that one day I will look out there and I shan't see him. Because he is 14.5 years old. He is so very old.
And the thought of losing my very first baby, my fur baby, has tears literally streaming down my face as I type. He has been an absolute power for me throughout the years. Truly the most loving and loyal dog, and such a beautiful little man.
It's funny how quickly our moods can change based purely upon thoughts in our heads, put their consciously or inadvertently.
It is amazing how 'association' can change things so dramatically.
An illustration to demonstrate.
Party A mentions he went somewhere on the weekend and had a fabulous time. Party B remembers having gone there in the past, and mentions an activity she did at the time.
Party A then is reminded of a similar activity he did and that he went to a place with a large purple feather out the front.
Party B then relates the feather to an incident involving a flock of chickens that fell off the back of a truck.
That then reminds Party A of when a set of tools fell off the back of the truck and relates the fear he felt when that happened.
Party B then recalls a time she felt extreme fear when a car failed to give way at a set of traffic lights.
And both parties realise that they could, had fate turned differently on those occasions, have actually been killed.
And as you can see, the conversation turned from talk of a fabulous weekend to contemplating one's own mortality.
Amazing. The power of association.
Speaking of power, I forgot to turn the Christmas tree lights on……
Fa la la la la.
La la la la.
"Yes, baby, it's tidy now."
That was the change. Things were put away. The three cyclones that continuously trash the place were absent for long enough that I could put it back into some semblance of order.
The kids loved it. Everything looks bigger.
That said, it didn't stop the carnage commencing as soon as the house even heard them approaching. I think it started throwing things up in preparation.
I would love to say that it will stay this way now I have got it to this point. Fact remains that that is not going to happen. It just can't. Because I have three children under 6 who don't think about those sorts of things. It is far more important to have your Mike the Knight shield and sword when it comes on the TV, or to involve every one of the little people in the farm setup, and to ensure that no doll is left out when it comes time for the tea party.
And much as I hate mess and I hate cleaning up toys and rubbish that is left all over the place, I'm all for role playing games and allowing the kids to express their creativity. So it's a fine line. We are trying to do the pack up after yourself thing, and to some extent it works. To some extent not so much.
I have lost count of the number of times I have told them I'll throw stuff out. And I do get to the point that I have a garbage bag in my hand, at which time the looks and cries of desperation interject and the toys get put away.
Yesterday was spent cleaning. A lot. But last night was my work Christmas party. Granted I work with only one other person who is a 74 year old fellow, and what a character he is. So we opted for a few glasses of champers and then a nice dinner at one of the bistros at Crown.
Well. The food was amazing. Absolutely truly amazing. And the ambience was brilliant. And the company was fabulous. My boss and I could talk the hind legs off a donkey. It's funny you know, he and I met at one of the Lawyers' Association dinners, not knowing each other, and hit it off straight away, talking as though we'd known each other for years.
That happens sometimes. At my old job, a new lady started and as she walked up to my desk we commenced a conversation as though it were halfway through, as though we had simply always known each other.
Anyway, several bottles of wine later, and well into the wee hours of the morning, I stumbled across the threshold, checked my emails then tumbled into bed.
When I awoke I turned, instantly expecting to see Miss 4. She wasn't there. And then I thought that the house was awfully quiet and I wondered if everyone could possibly still be asleep. And it was then I remembered that my babies were elsewhere. And I had such mixed emotions. Because I knew I could go back to sleep if I wanted, but I also missed them terribly right at that instant and just wanted to cuddle them.
That is the thing with motherhood. You can't turn it off. Even if I have a day to do things while the kids are at school or daycare I never leave them there the full time as if I were at work. Because I just miss them. I get antsy. And then they get home and try to rip each other's heads off and I wonder what the hell I was thinking getting them early. But you know what I mean. They are my little babies and I just love them so.
So today I did sleep in. Till around 9.15am. Fabulous. 2 cups of coffee and a bacon and egg buttie later and I ventured outside. Into the garage, filled the mower with fuel, and off I set on my merry mowing way (though I must admit I did take the time to put on sunscreen first because I am terribly sensitive to the sun, much as my little ones are too).
So mow mow mow and away we go.
That grass seriously grows so quickly.
And there is one area of grass that is a different sort to the rest. And it is, how shall I say, a little more "verdant" than the rest. It is lush. Thick. Spongey almost. And hellishly difficult to mow.
But I did it, all done now, back and front. I even attacked some of the weeds, and after about 15 minutes realised that I really did need some gardening gloves.
So I used the next bit of time far more wisely. I lay down on the grass and rolled around with my beautiful 14.5 year old dog. And as we were rolling around I felt yet another lump on his back. And I felt a tear come to my eye. Because my beautiful baby boy is getting old and is now visually impaired, has hearing loss, and is amassing lumps at a fairly regular rate. He isn't in pain, he still eats well, he still loves a cuddle. He's just getting old. And every day now I look out the window and wonder if I will see him. It is with much sadness that I remind myself that one day I will look out there and I shan't see him. Because he is 14.5 years old. He is so very old.
And the thought of losing my very first baby, my fur baby, has tears literally streaming down my face as I type. He has been an absolute power for me throughout the years. Truly the most loving and loyal dog, and such a beautiful little man.
It's funny how quickly our moods can change based purely upon thoughts in our heads, put their consciously or inadvertently.
It is amazing how 'association' can change things so dramatically.
An illustration to demonstrate.
Party A mentions he went somewhere on the weekend and had a fabulous time. Party B remembers having gone there in the past, and mentions an activity she did at the time.
Party A then is reminded of a similar activity he did and that he went to a place with a large purple feather out the front.
Party B then relates the feather to an incident involving a flock of chickens that fell off the back of a truck.
That then reminds Party A of when a set of tools fell off the back of the truck and relates the fear he felt when that happened.
Party B then recalls a time she felt extreme fear when a car failed to give way at a set of traffic lights.
And both parties realise that they could, had fate turned differently on those occasions, have actually been killed.
And as you can see, the conversation turned from talk of a fabulous weekend to contemplating one's own mortality.
Amazing. The power of association.
Speaking of power, I forgot to turn the Christmas tree lights on……
Fa la la la la.
La la la la.
Friday 13 December 2013
Moo baa….double quack, double quack…..
You either have no idea what I am talking about or you are shaking your head and feeling enormous pity for me right now.
Some songs they just get in. Like liquid into this chalk.
Last night it was Pocoyo. Or is it Pororo? One or the other. I don't know. They are all starting to blend in.
I don't like the new Wiggles. I didn't like the old Wiggles. I like the new Wiggles even less. I think the red Wiggle tries too hard. And the yellow Wiggle, chick Wiggle, is not Wiggle material. That they have the old purple Wiggle being the chef these days is just wrong.
Seriously Wiggles, pick up your bloody game. Not impressed. But then again, I wasn't before. So there you go. I'm sure there was a point. Lost it. Fine. I'm used to it.
As a single parent there are very few things you can do without interruption.
You will never shower alone again.
"Muuuuuuuuuuum."
Master 3. Standing at the shower door.
"What is it baby?"
"I want a hug."
I know I have mentioned this one before. But there you go. Just keeps on cropping up now doesn't it. And the thing is, I'm not repeating myself. This is what happens. The same thing. Over and over. My life is Groundhog Day at times.
"I can't give you a hug, I'm in the shower."
"But I want a hug!"
"Baby I'm all wet, I can't give you a hug."
"But I want a hug!"
"I'll give you a hug when I'm out of the shower and dry."
*Master 3 runs off, screaming, as per usual*
And I got maybe 1 minute of peace before I heard screams. As in screams. Oh. God. What the hell has happened?? I have shampoo in my hair too. Far from ideal.
"WHAT IS IT?? WHO IS SCREAMING???" This whilst frantically washing the shampoo out of my hair anticipating the need to leap from the shower and rescue whichever child needs rescuing in as short a time as possible.
And Miss 4 comes running in, I hear her, pull back the shower curtain and say "What is it baby?? Who's screaming?? What's happening??"
And she says it.
"Peppa Pig is on!!!"
Good God children, seriously. Give your mother a bloody heart attack.
So I know I have 5 minutes 17 seconds at the very least to finish my shower, and that is a small mercy for the day.
Today is Friday. The day where Miss 5 goes to school and the younger two spend the day with me.
So after we dropped off Miss 5 we did the usual and headed out towards the babycino shop. Master 3 opted to see the helicopters first this morning though, so that's where we went.
And as we drove around the corner I could not believe it. The biggest helicopter I have ever seen. I think it was one of those water dropping helicopters. Maybe. It was enormous. Master 3 was beside himself. And it seems as though he now wants to be a helicopter pilot when he grows up. Good on him. He'll rock at that. Although I'm not sure he'll get enough people contact so he might have to moonlight. Oh that's right, he will be. He's going to be a footballer too he tells me. Fabuloso.
So in we go to the babycino shop and I order the coffee, babycinos, muffin for the kids and some eggs Benedict for me, because I am semi hungry and I know Master 3 eats half my food anyway.
Today was no different. Except he didn't eat the spinach. So we made a deal for next time. I won't order the muffin, I'll order an extra large breakfast and we can all share. You would have thought I had suggested we go to Disneyland. So that's a big yes for next week.
We always have a bit of a look around the store after we get the babycino, because it isn't really a cafe where we go. Well, it is, but it isn't. It is in an enormous supermarket. Although supermarket is the wrong word. It does have a grocery section but also has a massive deli, fresh seafood, meat, fruit, bakery, the cafe obviously, fellow making his own pastry whatsit things, it is more than just a supermarket.
Anyway, we had a look around and my and the kids' fave little crackers were on special so I suggested they grab a few packs, which they did, and then cabana was half price (sing for joy!!!!) so we got a stick of that too.
Heading to the checkouts I started to line up behind someone as Master 3 rushed over to a vacant checkout and said "THIS ONE!!!!" To which I replied that it was shut, and the person behind me laughed and shook his head.
Not one minute later someone came and opened up that checkout and the bloke behind me rushed over to it and started unloading.
Not. Cool. Mate.
I said nothing. I was just appalled. Where are manners these days?
And as I was thinking how much this fellow could use some schooling in that regard a woman came up to me and asked if I would like to come through to her checkout (which was closed but she opened just for us). So I did.
And the kids placed their pack of crackers on the conveyor belt, Master 3 putting his down then Miss 4. And the conveyor started moving. And as it got just towards the end Master 3 screamed out "MINE'S WINNING!!!!!!!"
Gold.
So we headed home. We did some crafty things today. Made some paper chains which was a bit of fun. Master 3 didn't quite get the knack of it and just pasted strips of paper onto a white piece of paper, but Miss 4 was getting up some pretty good speed with the chain work.
And then I plonked on the sofa. And as per usual the kids jumped on top of me. Then my phone made a noise, I asked Master 3 to get it for me, which he did, I checked it, I forget what it was, but I had my phone.
So I suggested to Master 3 that he might like to sing a song.
And that was it. The beginning of an absolutely amazing series of events.
We videoed. With the iPhone. Which isn't videoing is it, it is recording. Or somethinging. What the hell do you call it these days? Anyway, whatever it is, that is what we did.
He jumped. He sang. He laughed. I actually managed to capture that moment just as he lost his balance and fell off the sofa. I caught him. That was not on the video. But it happened.
But the funniest one was when he began singing "A B C". By the time he got up to P he realised Miss 4 was standing behind me, watching the video, but also singing. So he screams "NOOO!" and points, and then starts singing again. We get to G and he does the same. And then he starts again, but bounces on every letter. And the bouncing is getting higher. And higher. And higher.
And by the time we got to zed it was pretty high.
And then came the "Next time won't you sing…."
And without warning, completely without expectation, on "with" he took one step towards me and on "me" he leapt.
And yes. He landed on top of me. And yes. I laughed. A lot. Even though it hurt. Because holy crap it was seriously one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life.
And it was then I realised that we had to pick up Miss 5 from school.
And there was still a carol night to go to…. but perhaps I'll leave that for next time shall I…. I'm exhausted just reliving what happened today…..
But smiling. And that's always a good thing.
Some songs they just get in. Like liquid into this chalk.
Last night it was Pocoyo. Or is it Pororo? One or the other. I don't know. They are all starting to blend in.
I don't like the new Wiggles. I didn't like the old Wiggles. I like the new Wiggles even less. I think the red Wiggle tries too hard. And the yellow Wiggle, chick Wiggle, is not Wiggle material. That they have the old purple Wiggle being the chef these days is just wrong.
Seriously Wiggles, pick up your bloody game. Not impressed. But then again, I wasn't before. So there you go. I'm sure there was a point. Lost it. Fine. I'm used to it.
As a single parent there are very few things you can do without interruption.
You will never shower alone again.
"Muuuuuuuuuuum."
Master 3. Standing at the shower door.
"What is it baby?"
"I want a hug."
I know I have mentioned this one before. But there you go. Just keeps on cropping up now doesn't it. And the thing is, I'm not repeating myself. This is what happens. The same thing. Over and over. My life is Groundhog Day at times.
"I can't give you a hug, I'm in the shower."
"But I want a hug!"
"Baby I'm all wet, I can't give you a hug."
"But I want a hug!"
"I'll give you a hug when I'm out of the shower and dry."
*Master 3 runs off, screaming, as per usual*
And I got maybe 1 minute of peace before I heard screams. As in screams. Oh. God. What the hell has happened?? I have shampoo in my hair too. Far from ideal.
"WHAT IS IT?? WHO IS SCREAMING???" This whilst frantically washing the shampoo out of my hair anticipating the need to leap from the shower and rescue whichever child needs rescuing in as short a time as possible.
And Miss 4 comes running in, I hear her, pull back the shower curtain and say "What is it baby?? Who's screaming?? What's happening??"
And she says it.
"Peppa Pig is on!!!"
Good God children, seriously. Give your mother a bloody heart attack.
So I know I have 5 minutes 17 seconds at the very least to finish my shower, and that is a small mercy for the day.
Today is Friday. The day where Miss 5 goes to school and the younger two spend the day with me.
So after we dropped off Miss 5 we did the usual and headed out towards the babycino shop. Master 3 opted to see the helicopters first this morning though, so that's where we went.
And as we drove around the corner I could not believe it. The biggest helicopter I have ever seen. I think it was one of those water dropping helicopters. Maybe. It was enormous. Master 3 was beside himself. And it seems as though he now wants to be a helicopter pilot when he grows up. Good on him. He'll rock at that. Although I'm not sure he'll get enough people contact so he might have to moonlight. Oh that's right, he will be. He's going to be a footballer too he tells me. Fabuloso.
So in we go to the babycino shop and I order the coffee, babycinos, muffin for the kids and some eggs Benedict for me, because I am semi hungry and I know Master 3 eats half my food anyway.
Today was no different. Except he didn't eat the spinach. So we made a deal for next time. I won't order the muffin, I'll order an extra large breakfast and we can all share. You would have thought I had suggested we go to Disneyland. So that's a big yes for next week.
We always have a bit of a look around the store after we get the babycino, because it isn't really a cafe where we go. Well, it is, but it isn't. It is in an enormous supermarket. Although supermarket is the wrong word. It does have a grocery section but also has a massive deli, fresh seafood, meat, fruit, bakery, the cafe obviously, fellow making his own pastry whatsit things, it is more than just a supermarket.
Anyway, we had a look around and my and the kids' fave little crackers were on special so I suggested they grab a few packs, which they did, and then cabana was half price (sing for joy!!!!) so we got a stick of that too.
Heading to the checkouts I started to line up behind someone as Master 3 rushed over to a vacant checkout and said "THIS ONE!!!!" To which I replied that it was shut, and the person behind me laughed and shook his head.
Not one minute later someone came and opened up that checkout and the bloke behind me rushed over to it and started unloading.
Not. Cool. Mate.
I said nothing. I was just appalled. Where are manners these days?
And as I was thinking how much this fellow could use some schooling in that regard a woman came up to me and asked if I would like to come through to her checkout (which was closed but she opened just for us). So I did.
And the kids placed their pack of crackers on the conveyor belt, Master 3 putting his down then Miss 4. And the conveyor started moving. And as it got just towards the end Master 3 screamed out "MINE'S WINNING!!!!!!!"
Gold.
So we headed home. We did some crafty things today. Made some paper chains which was a bit of fun. Master 3 didn't quite get the knack of it and just pasted strips of paper onto a white piece of paper, but Miss 4 was getting up some pretty good speed with the chain work.
And then I plonked on the sofa. And as per usual the kids jumped on top of me. Then my phone made a noise, I asked Master 3 to get it for me, which he did, I checked it, I forget what it was, but I had my phone.
So I suggested to Master 3 that he might like to sing a song.
And that was it. The beginning of an absolutely amazing series of events.
We videoed. With the iPhone. Which isn't videoing is it, it is recording. Or somethinging. What the hell do you call it these days? Anyway, whatever it is, that is what we did.
He jumped. He sang. He laughed. I actually managed to capture that moment just as he lost his balance and fell off the sofa. I caught him. That was not on the video. But it happened.
But the funniest one was when he began singing "A B C". By the time he got up to P he realised Miss 4 was standing behind me, watching the video, but also singing. So he screams "NOOO!" and points, and then starts singing again. We get to G and he does the same. And then he starts again, but bounces on every letter. And the bouncing is getting higher. And higher. And higher.
And by the time we got to zed it was pretty high.
And then came the "Next time won't you sing…."
And without warning, completely without expectation, on "with" he took one step towards me and on "me" he leapt.
And yes. He landed on top of me. And yes. I laughed. A lot. Even though it hurt. Because holy crap it was seriously one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life.
And it was then I realised that we had to pick up Miss 5 from school.
And there was still a carol night to go to…. but perhaps I'll leave that for next time shall I…. I'm exhausted just reliving what happened today…..
But smiling. And that's always a good thing.
Thursday 12 December 2013
I hate bedtime
With a passion.
Not my bedtime, although probably in some ways my bedtime, but I'm more thinking of the kids.
It sucks.
Witching hour doesn't even come close to describing that ridiculous constant battle between small folks and their parents at the approximate time at which they are to put themselves into their sleep vessels and bash the zeds out.
We get the delays. At reading time it's always "one more". Now I am queen hardass and they get one book each. More than fair. There are books that are short and there are books that are long. They get to choose one book each. That said if they choose one of the REALLY long books it's a chapter. That is more than fair too.
So reading done. Teeth, toilet, bed. Usually routine.
"TTB!!!!"
"Yes darling, so off you go, go and brush your teeth."
"Bzzzzzzzzzz wheeeeeeee" as Master 3 puts the arms out and takes off fighter jet style.
Miss 4 plonks firmly on the sofa, arms folded.
"No. I don't WANT to go to bed."
"Well it's bed time, and bed is where you are going. Up, teeth, toilet, bed."
And at this time of the year there is another addition.
"You'll end up on the naughty list…"
Now I don't even know why I say it because to be honest it doesn't work. It just doesn't.
I know my kids, and I know that I used to do pretty well exactly what they did, and the naughty list did bugger all to deter me as well.
So yes, anyway, I had a point. Oh yes, that's it. After a million years the kids finally got into their various beds.
And then the tears started.
Miss 5.
"Why are you crying baby?"
"Because I only have a few days left at school and I love school and I want to go to school." *sobs*
"But baby over the holidays you'll get to do so much, we'll go on a little trip and we'll visit the beach and go on the carousel and do all sorts of wonderful and fun things"
"But I love SCHOOL" *bursts into uncontrollable sobs*
So there are two things here. Probably more actually.
First thing that comes into my mind is that I am rapt she likes school that much, because there are so many kids for whom school is a struggle and is unpleasant. Not so Miss 5.
Second thing that came to my mind was "seriously? you're crying about that???" Geez, I used to HANG for when school was over. I didn't like school. Not that I was bad at it. The work side was always fine. The sitting still in one place for that many hours was an enormous PITA. Still is. I did my entire law degree off campus. In the space of five years there were four weekends we were required on campus. Four. 8 days in total, 8 hours in lectures each day. I lasted 1.5 tops each time. I couldn't do it. HATE sitting still.
Anyway, I digress. Just for something different.
So Miss 5 eventually went to sleep. That just left the other 2. Now time ticks on. And on. And on.
And just when you think that they may have settled and things have been quiet for 5 or so minutes you hear it.
"Are you putting me on the naughty list?"
Oh good lord child GTFTS.
"No baby just go to sleep."
"Is the moon up?"
"Yes baby, it's night time, it is sleep time, the moon is up."
"Oooooh."
Master 3 loves discussion. At any time. About anything. He is very rarely quiet. Actually the only time he is quiet is when he is asleep. And even then he talks in his sleep so isn't really quiet.
I had a point. I have no idea what it was.
Tonight it took a good hour at least for the kids to go to sleep. And that was "not bad".
They don't tell you about this stuff. So many things about which they simply don't tell you.
You know what else they don't tell you about?? Hang on, I'll get the list…. It's in storage….. It'll take a fleet of trucks to bring it here….
Actually on second thoughts I might just tell you the odd thing as I remember it. Oh, that's another thing they don't tell you about…. once you have kids kiss your memory goodbye. Miss 5 is the only reason I remember what I need at the supermarket. And of late Miss 4. And woolies online iPhone app.
You should write lists. For everything. But you first need to remember to actually write it down.
Don't mind about going into a room and forgetting why you've gone there, I'll get into the car, drive for 20 minutes, find myself god only knows where and wonder why the hell I went there in the first place. Usually after a coffee at a random cafe I've never been to before I'll get some kind of epiphany that will tell me why I have found myself in the area I am currently, but sometimes no. Sometimes I just turn around and go home. And sometimes later that night I remember. And sometimes I never do.
I am embracing the CIA. Child Induced Amnesia. The sooner you embrace it the better it will be for you, trust me. It is simply pointless spending hours upon end beating yourself up and trying to remember what the hell you are doing driving through a forest in the middle of nowhere.
Sometimes you just have to let go. Yes, you went there for a reason. No, you can't remember it.
But there is nothing stopping you looking out the windows and taking in the scenery…….after all….you're already there……why not enjoy it…...
Not my bedtime, although probably in some ways my bedtime, but I'm more thinking of the kids.
It sucks.
Witching hour doesn't even come close to describing that ridiculous constant battle between small folks and their parents at the approximate time at which they are to put themselves into their sleep vessels and bash the zeds out.
We get the delays. At reading time it's always "one more". Now I am queen hardass and they get one book each. More than fair. There are books that are short and there are books that are long. They get to choose one book each. That said if they choose one of the REALLY long books it's a chapter. That is more than fair too.
So reading done. Teeth, toilet, bed. Usually routine.
"TTB!!!!"
"Yes darling, so off you go, go and brush your teeth."
"Bzzzzzzzzzz wheeeeeeee" as Master 3 puts the arms out and takes off fighter jet style.
Miss 4 plonks firmly on the sofa, arms folded.
"No. I don't WANT to go to bed."
"Well it's bed time, and bed is where you are going. Up, teeth, toilet, bed."
And at this time of the year there is another addition.
"You'll end up on the naughty list…"
Now I don't even know why I say it because to be honest it doesn't work. It just doesn't.
I know my kids, and I know that I used to do pretty well exactly what they did, and the naughty list did bugger all to deter me as well.
So yes, anyway, I had a point. Oh yes, that's it. After a million years the kids finally got into their various beds.
And then the tears started.
Miss 5.
"Why are you crying baby?"
"Because I only have a few days left at school and I love school and I want to go to school." *sobs*
"But baby over the holidays you'll get to do so much, we'll go on a little trip and we'll visit the beach and go on the carousel and do all sorts of wonderful and fun things"
"But I love SCHOOL" *bursts into uncontrollable sobs*
So there are two things here. Probably more actually.
First thing that comes into my mind is that I am rapt she likes school that much, because there are so many kids for whom school is a struggle and is unpleasant. Not so Miss 5.
Second thing that came to my mind was "seriously? you're crying about that???" Geez, I used to HANG for when school was over. I didn't like school. Not that I was bad at it. The work side was always fine. The sitting still in one place for that many hours was an enormous PITA. Still is. I did my entire law degree off campus. In the space of five years there were four weekends we were required on campus. Four. 8 days in total, 8 hours in lectures each day. I lasted 1.5 tops each time. I couldn't do it. HATE sitting still.
Anyway, I digress. Just for something different.
So Miss 5 eventually went to sleep. That just left the other 2. Now time ticks on. And on. And on.
And just when you think that they may have settled and things have been quiet for 5 or so minutes you hear it.
"Are you putting me on the naughty list?"
Oh good lord child GTFTS.
"No baby just go to sleep."
"Is the moon up?"
"Yes baby, it's night time, it is sleep time, the moon is up."
"Oooooh."
Master 3 loves discussion. At any time. About anything. He is very rarely quiet. Actually the only time he is quiet is when he is asleep. And even then he talks in his sleep so isn't really quiet.
I had a point. I have no idea what it was.
Tonight it took a good hour at least for the kids to go to sleep. And that was "not bad".
They don't tell you about this stuff. So many things about which they simply don't tell you.
You know what else they don't tell you about?? Hang on, I'll get the list…. It's in storage….. It'll take a fleet of trucks to bring it here….
Actually on second thoughts I might just tell you the odd thing as I remember it. Oh, that's another thing they don't tell you about…. once you have kids kiss your memory goodbye. Miss 5 is the only reason I remember what I need at the supermarket. And of late Miss 4. And woolies online iPhone app.
You should write lists. For everything. But you first need to remember to actually write it down.
Don't mind about going into a room and forgetting why you've gone there, I'll get into the car, drive for 20 minutes, find myself god only knows where and wonder why the hell I went there in the first place. Usually after a coffee at a random cafe I've never been to before I'll get some kind of epiphany that will tell me why I have found myself in the area I am currently, but sometimes no. Sometimes I just turn around and go home. And sometimes later that night I remember. And sometimes I never do.
I am embracing the CIA. Child Induced Amnesia. The sooner you embrace it the better it will be for you, trust me. It is simply pointless spending hours upon end beating yourself up and trying to remember what the hell you are doing driving through a forest in the middle of nowhere.
Sometimes you just have to let go. Yes, you went there for a reason. No, you can't remember it.
But there is nothing stopping you looking out the windows and taking in the scenery…….after all….you're already there……why not enjoy it…...
Wednesday 11 December 2013
So I went out last night.
Yes, on a Tuesday.
Don't get excited, I wasn't out clubbing. Every 2 months I attend a lawyers' association dinner with a bunch of other lawyers…. we have some drinks, a 2 course meal, and guest speakers. These speakers count towards the mandatory 10 points of continuing professional development we are expected to do each year. But in reality it really is just a night out.
My darling mother uses this opportunity to spend some time with my babies, spoils them absolutely rotten, which they, and she, adore, and I let happen, because it really doesn't happen all that often and after all, what are nanas for but to spoil their grandkidlets.
So last night was no different to any other of the meetings really, except there were a few people I hadn't met before, a few I had, and it was actually cooler last night than it had been at the October meeting, which was quite bizarre.
So I got a glass of red, had a chat to a few people, met a few others, then sat down at the table. The meals arrived halfway through the guest speaker, which is not unusual, and as the waitress put down smoked salmon and lemon wedges I told her of my citrus allergy (I have a citrus allergy, not sure if I told you that, and I'm also allergic to chocolate. Yes. I know. I cope.). She took that plate away, and as the fellow behind her went to put down the risotto she said "oh hang on a tic, that has lemon juice in it too."
Who puts lemon juice in risotto??
Anyway, they served the rest of the dining room, and then came back with a meal for me. Risotto. Minus the lemon juice. And OMG. Seriously. It was amazing. Parmesan shavings throughout, beautifully cooked mushrooms, rice that was just to the tooth, and delicately blanched asparagus as a garnish. It. Was. Fabulous.
I didn't quite finish it. The plate was enormous. But truly it was amazing and I secretly hope that is on the menu again.
Main course. Fish. Ba bow. But luckily it was an alternating plate main course, and the fish was not scheduled for my place. No. Oh no. I, in my sheer luck and rapture, received the medium rare eye fillet steak with what I would describe as a light jus.
Holy. Hell.
The food at this place is amazing. That the quality can be THAT good when they are serving 50 or 60 people the same (or half half alternating plates) is just astounding.
But wait. There's more.
A real estate agent got up to have a chat. And yes, I know I said it was a lawyers' association meeting, but we often have other industry reps come in to tell us the state of affairs in their industry. Thus Mr Real Estate.
But Mr Real Estate also got into the Christmas spirit. And he announced that he had brought some hampers with him, and if everyone checked under their seat they may find an envelope which would indicate that they had won.
So I reached under my seat and felt nothing, so had a sip of wine and watched everyone else at the table up-end their chairs, to no avail. Then someone said "there's one per table." And as everyone on my table had upended their chairs I figured I should probably have a look… which I did… I leaned forward ever so slightly and managed to see the tiny edge of an envelope peeking out from underneath my seat.
I WON THE HAMPER!!!!!!! And it wasn't small either. AND there was a bottle of wine in it.
So I had two magnificent meals, more wine than I probably should have for a Tuesday night, and scored a massive hamper out of it!!!
Suffice to say, yesterday was definitely better than the day before.
Sigh. Smile. The world is balanced again.
Don't get excited, I wasn't out clubbing. Every 2 months I attend a lawyers' association dinner with a bunch of other lawyers…. we have some drinks, a 2 course meal, and guest speakers. These speakers count towards the mandatory 10 points of continuing professional development we are expected to do each year. But in reality it really is just a night out.
My darling mother uses this opportunity to spend some time with my babies, spoils them absolutely rotten, which they, and she, adore, and I let happen, because it really doesn't happen all that often and after all, what are nanas for but to spoil their grandkidlets.
So last night was no different to any other of the meetings really, except there were a few people I hadn't met before, a few I had, and it was actually cooler last night than it had been at the October meeting, which was quite bizarre.
So I got a glass of red, had a chat to a few people, met a few others, then sat down at the table. The meals arrived halfway through the guest speaker, which is not unusual, and as the waitress put down smoked salmon and lemon wedges I told her of my citrus allergy (I have a citrus allergy, not sure if I told you that, and I'm also allergic to chocolate. Yes. I know. I cope.). She took that plate away, and as the fellow behind her went to put down the risotto she said "oh hang on a tic, that has lemon juice in it too."
Who puts lemon juice in risotto??
Anyway, they served the rest of the dining room, and then came back with a meal for me. Risotto. Minus the lemon juice. And OMG. Seriously. It was amazing. Parmesan shavings throughout, beautifully cooked mushrooms, rice that was just to the tooth, and delicately blanched asparagus as a garnish. It. Was. Fabulous.
I didn't quite finish it. The plate was enormous. But truly it was amazing and I secretly hope that is on the menu again.
Main course. Fish. Ba bow. But luckily it was an alternating plate main course, and the fish was not scheduled for my place. No. Oh no. I, in my sheer luck and rapture, received the medium rare eye fillet steak with what I would describe as a light jus.
Holy. Hell.
The food at this place is amazing. That the quality can be THAT good when they are serving 50 or 60 people the same (or half half alternating plates) is just astounding.
But wait. There's more.
A real estate agent got up to have a chat. And yes, I know I said it was a lawyers' association meeting, but we often have other industry reps come in to tell us the state of affairs in their industry. Thus Mr Real Estate.
But Mr Real Estate also got into the Christmas spirit. And he announced that he had brought some hampers with him, and if everyone checked under their seat they may find an envelope which would indicate that they had won.
So I reached under my seat and felt nothing, so had a sip of wine and watched everyone else at the table up-end their chairs, to no avail. Then someone said "there's one per table." And as everyone on my table had upended their chairs I figured I should probably have a look… which I did… I leaned forward ever so slightly and managed to see the tiny edge of an envelope peeking out from underneath my seat.
I WON THE HAMPER!!!!!!! And it wasn't small either. AND there was a bottle of wine in it.
So I had two magnificent meals, more wine than I probably should have for a Tuesday night, and scored a massive hamper out of it!!!
Suffice to say, yesterday was definitely better than the day before.
Sigh. Smile. The world is balanced again.
Monday 9 December 2013
There is good. And there is bad.
Today there was bad.
Maybe not so much in some peoples' lives, but in mine, it was a bad.
Miss 5 came home from school today. And she presented me with something, with a bit of a smile, but more of a "here you go".
It was a photo. Her whole school photo. Crushed. Because it had been in her bag.
No protection for the photo. Just a flimsy little plastic pocket.
I was absolutely devastated.
What should have been a happy occasion, my daughter giving me the photograph with all her schoolmates from her first year at school ever, was tainted because I simply could not restrain the sadness I felt looking at the crushed picture.
I had wanted to frame it. There is no way I could frame it. It is all but ruined.
So I emailed the school. I let them know that I was bitterly disappointed, and that I would have expected that it be protected with cardboard, or, if not, I would have been alerted to the fact it was at the school to pick up, rather than entrusting such a picture to a 5 year old.
Yes, for some it may seem inconsequential and little. To me it is not.
Tonight was ruined. Dramatic? Maybe. Melodramatic? I don't think so.
Aside from the fact that the picture itself is ruined, I am not made of money so can't just up and buy replacements when things are wrecked in transit.
I want my children to learn the value of money. I want them to understand that things just don't magically appear because they want them, or, in this case, because they haven't been careful with things and they get ruined.
Miss 5 did apologise. I acknowledge that. And I am glad she did.
I guess I'm just tired. Not like oh let's have a nap or a sleep for the night and wake up refreshed.
I mean like I am tired. To the core, every single atom of my being is tired.
For such a long time I have done so much for so many and I am just tired. And when things don't go right then yes, I am going to get upset. Because why the hell should I be the one who has to fix it, or follow it up, or bring it to peoples' attention that this is not the way it should be done.
Because there are others out there that wouldn't. That couldn't. That's why.
And that is another reason I am tired. Because if something isn't right I will always speak. Not because the squeaky wheel gets the oil. Because if nobody says anything ever, then how on earth are those making the mistakes able to know that mistakes have been made?
I'm probably rambling. I am past the point of caring right now.
Things are not always sunshine and roses. Tonight they were scrambled eggs and an early night.
And a glass or two of wine for mum.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
Of that I am sure.
Maybe not so much in some peoples' lives, but in mine, it was a bad.
Miss 5 came home from school today. And she presented me with something, with a bit of a smile, but more of a "here you go".
It was a photo. Her whole school photo. Crushed. Because it had been in her bag.
No protection for the photo. Just a flimsy little plastic pocket.
I was absolutely devastated.
What should have been a happy occasion, my daughter giving me the photograph with all her schoolmates from her first year at school ever, was tainted because I simply could not restrain the sadness I felt looking at the crushed picture.
I had wanted to frame it. There is no way I could frame it. It is all but ruined.
So I emailed the school. I let them know that I was bitterly disappointed, and that I would have expected that it be protected with cardboard, or, if not, I would have been alerted to the fact it was at the school to pick up, rather than entrusting such a picture to a 5 year old.
Yes, for some it may seem inconsequential and little. To me it is not.
Tonight was ruined. Dramatic? Maybe. Melodramatic? I don't think so.
Aside from the fact that the picture itself is ruined, I am not made of money so can't just up and buy replacements when things are wrecked in transit.
I want my children to learn the value of money. I want them to understand that things just don't magically appear because they want them, or, in this case, because they haven't been careful with things and they get ruined.
Miss 5 did apologise. I acknowledge that. And I am glad she did.
I guess I'm just tired. Not like oh let's have a nap or a sleep for the night and wake up refreshed.
I mean like I am tired. To the core, every single atom of my being is tired.
For such a long time I have done so much for so many and I am just tired. And when things don't go right then yes, I am going to get upset. Because why the hell should I be the one who has to fix it, or follow it up, or bring it to peoples' attention that this is not the way it should be done.
Because there are others out there that wouldn't. That couldn't. That's why.
And that is another reason I am tired. Because if something isn't right I will always speak. Not because the squeaky wheel gets the oil. Because if nobody says anything ever, then how on earth are those making the mistakes able to know that mistakes have been made?
I'm probably rambling. I am past the point of caring right now.
Things are not always sunshine and roses. Tonight they were scrambled eggs and an early night.
And a glass or two of wine for mum.
Tomorrow will be a better day.
Of that I am sure.
Sunday 8 December 2013
I am constantly amazed
at how much I am able to get done when the kids are away for the day.
I had 6 hours. 6 hours kid-free. The day started early, as per usual.
After breakfast I made up another batch of the dough for the handprint Santas, the same dough that saw miserable failure occur on last attempt.
Whilst the kids were away I baked them. They failed miserably. Again. My thought is that it is due to the fact that the "recipe" calls for it to be baked at 100 celcius and my oven doesn't even start until 120. So they swelled, these Santa heads.
And 2013 shall be known as the year in which Santa had a reaction to bees. Tis the only logical explanation for the lumps all over his handprint head.
Anyway, as soon as the kids left I got into the car and hi-tailed it into the city to pick up the last of the Christmas laybys. I managed to fluke a 15 minute free parking spot literally around the corner from where I needed to go. Amazing. Truly amazing.
So off I ran (well, I didn't run, I walked briskly) to the shop and straight up to the layby counter. I paid off the last $40 (woohoo!!) and they gave it to me. A massive box. And two smaller boxes.
"Would you like a bag?"
"Um, yes, I think that would be a good idea."
On the positive side of things, I managed to bring a smile to many peoples' faces as I lugged this massive bag, which in actuality was approximately three quarters of my size, back to the car. I loaded it up with a grunt (literally) and slothed back into the car. It took me a good few minutes to catch my breath.
Note to self: get fit.
And off I went, back home again. By the time I made it home it was about 1.5 hours since I had initially left.
Then I got all the presents out from their stash places all over the house and sorted them into piles, one each for Miss 5, Miss 4 and Master 3, and one "group" pile.
Now I do things a little differently than most. Santa brings presents to each child, but there are also "share" presents. These include things like DVDs and games, and things that are very obviously utilised between the kids equally rather than one person having ownership over them.
That is the reason the box was so enormous today. Because there was a Barbie Cruise Ship. The girls also got a Barbie and Master 3 got a Ken. And then there is the Cruise Ship. It is enormous. It opens out to 3.5 feet wide.
I had to get it. Why? Because at the July sales it was reduced from $198 to $48. Yes. You read correctly. A saving of $150. And I justified it by saying that I couldn't afford it at $198 but it would be a $198 toy SO much cheaper, and it was big enough that all three kids could play with it at once.
Perfect.
So that is the centre of the "share" pile anyway.
Now I'll let you hazard a guess as to how long it took to wrap these presents.
And I will interject here to say that first thing this morning I stripped all the kids' beds in order to wash their sheets, donnas and mattress protectors. Keep that in mind.
So wrapping presents. I'll give you the low down. There are a few things in life at which I excel. There are many things that I can do competently and confidently. There are a few things with which I struggle but I get by. Then there is parking the car and wrapping presents. A massive life ba bow in both regards.
Combine the lack of ability and finesse with the fact that I shake and it becomes a veritable dog's breakfast. I am illogical in the wrapping stakes and often end up with far too much or far too little paper because when it comes to spatial awareness I am about as adept as a fish is at macrame.
Three hours. Three hours I was wrapping presents.
By the end of it I had developed an entirely new respect for those people who stand behind tables at the mall offering to wrap peoples' presents for a paltry gold coin donation. I bow down to them for their neat corners and perfect judgement of paper required, their lining up of patterns and their expert curling of ribbons.
I crashed. And burned. I had to turn the air conditioner on I had got myself into that much of a frenzy.
And then I remembered. I still had to make up all the beds.
Oh joy. I love it when I do stuff like that.
But at least the presents are all done. Wrapped. Ready to rock n roll.
Bring it on Santa. I'm ready…...
I had 6 hours. 6 hours kid-free. The day started early, as per usual.
After breakfast I made up another batch of the dough for the handprint Santas, the same dough that saw miserable failure occur on last attempt.
Whilst the kids were away I baked them. They failed miserably. Again. My thought is that it is due to the fact that the "recipe" calls for it to be baked at 100 celcius and my oven doesn't even start until 120. So they swelled, these Santa heads.
And 2013 shall be known as the year in which Santa had a reaction to bees. Tis the only logical explanation for the lumps all over his handprint head.
Anyway, as soon as the kids left I got into the car and hi-tailed it into the city to pick up the last of the Christmas laybys. I managed to fluke a 15 minute free parking spot literally around the corner from where I needed to go. Amazing. Truly amazing.
So off I ran (well, I didn't run, I walked briskly) to the shop and straight up to the layby counter. I paid off the last $40 (woohoo!!) and they gave it to me. A massive box. And two smaller boxes.
"Would you like a bag?"
"Um, yes, I think that would be a good idea."
On the positive side of things, I managed to bring a smile to many peoples' faces as I lugged this massive bag, which in actuality was approximately three quarters of my size, back to the car. I loaded it up with a grunt (literally) and slothed back into the car. It took me a good few minutes to catch my breath.
Note to self: get fit.
And off I went, back home again. By the time I made it home it was about 1.5 hours since I had initially left.
Then I got all the presents out from their stash places all over the house and sorted them into piles, one each for Miss 5, Miss 4 and Master 3, and one "group" pile.
Now I do things a little differently than most. Santa brings presents to each child, but there are also "share" presents. These include things like DVDs and games, and things that are very obviously utilised between the kids equally rather than one person having ownership over them.
That is the reason the box was so enormous today. Because there was a Barbie Cruise Ship. The girls also got a Barbie and Master 3 got a Ken. And then there is the Cruise Ship. It is enormous. It opens out to 3.5 feet wide.
I had to get it. Why? Because at the July sales it was reduced from $198 to $48. Yes. You read correctly. A saving of $150. And I justified it by saying that I couldn't afford it at $198 but it would be a $198 toy SO much cheaper, and it was big enough that all three kids could play with it at once.
Perfect.
So that is the centre of the "share" pile anyway.
Now I'll let you hazard a guess as to how long it took to wrap these presents.
And I will interject here to say that first thing this morning I stripped all the kids' beds in order to wash their sheets, donnas and mattress protectors. Keep that in mind.
So wrapping presents. I'll give you the low down. There are a few things in life at which I excel. There are many things that I can do competently and confidently. There are a few things with which I struggle but I get by. Then there is parking the car and wrapping presents. A massive life ba bow in both regards.
Combine the lack of ability and finesse with the fact that I shake and it becomes a veritable dog's breakfast. I am illogical in the wrapping stakes and often end up with far too much or far too little paper because when it comes to spatial awareness I am about as adept as a fish is at macrame.
Three hours. Three hours I was wrapping presents.
By the end of it I had developed an entirely new respect for those people who stand behind tables at the mall offering to wrap peoples' presents for a paltry gold coin donation. I bow down to them for their neat corners and perfect judgement of paper required, their lining up of patterns and their expert curling of ribbons.
I crashed. And burned. I had to turn the air conditioner on I had got myself into that much of a frenzy.
And then I remembered. I still had to make up all the beds.
Oh joy. I love it when I do stuff like that.
But at least the presents are all done. Wrapped. Ready to rock n roll.
Bring it on Santa. I'm ready…...
Saturday 7 December 2013
Do you want to hold a tooth?
Not something you would anticipate hearing on a regular basis.
Nor would you expect to hear "Here's a rib. Why don't you hold that?"
We went to the museum today. I adore the museum. Simply adore it.
There are several reasons why. First and foremost, being a single mum to three wonderful little folks, well, it is free. As I have the pensioner concession and the kids are kids we don't pay for entry for any of us.
Score.
We pay $16 to park underneath. We could park on the street. However if it rains ba bow. If it is incredibly windy or hot or something ba bow. There is a limit on the time you can stay there.
So we park underneath. $16 well spent.
And we take a truckload of food. I made 1.5 loaves worth of sandwiches, brought a few kilos of fruit and several dozen muesli bars and other snacks.
Yes. My children eat a lot.
And so the morning was spent "in anticipation" of going. Which always makes things interesting. Not always in a good way. For there is the choice of outfit. Incredibly important. The girls found it necessary to close their door and try on several different outfits, and when I dared to venture into the foyer I heard screams of "DON'T LOOK AT ME!!!!!". To which I replied "I'm not looking at you." and wondered how they thought I could see them through a closed door. Perhaps my ruse of being able to see what they are doing at all times is working…….
Eventually we made it to the car. Lots of false starts. Some mine. Mostly theirs. But we got there.
And we started driving.
"Is this the way to get to the museum?"
"Yes baby."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been there before."
"Ooooooh. So why is it this way then?"
"Because it is."
"What's that?"
"What?"
"That."
"Where?"
"There."
"Where there?"
"There. That. The thing."
"Oh yes, that. Much clearer. What?"
"THAT! THERE!!! THE THING!!!"
"WHAT!!!!??? WHERE???????"
"The CRANE."
"Oooooh."
Seriously. I can do many things, but read your mind I cannot.
So we got to the museum, and today we were doing things differently. It wasn't just us. We were meeting friends. Turbo excitement plus.
We got there a bit early so opted to go to the rainforest walk. Now there are ramps to get up and down this rainforest walk. My kids love to run up and down ramps. These ramps were concrete. I suggested that running was perhaps not the best idea as if there was a bit of a stutter in the mechanism then tumble down would come child and come an absolute cropper.
So they agreed to this. The girls I mean. Master 3 was strapped into the pram. Safely. I love the pram. Not just for the keeping child restrained factor but it saves me having to carry bags…..
But I digress.
Girls started running and I reminded them they shouldn't. And so they started walking. Briskly.
Now you may recall they chose their own outfits today. Miss 4 opted for a beautiful little skirt that had layers and layers of chiffon, one atop the other ruffle style.
When this style of skirt is worn whilst power walking it creates an absolutely amazing visual. And so I pushed the pram, watching Miss 4 power wiggling up the ramp in front of me with tears streaming down my face and struggling for air because seriously, it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life. And the look on Miss 4's face as she did the hairpin turn halfway and saw me smiling so widely and being so happy (albeit laughing at her patootie but she didn't twig to that) was reflective of my happiness, because she saw me being happy and mirrored it times a thousand. It was fabulous.
So we rainforested for a bit and then our friends arrived. There are friends and there are friends. These friends are friends that, well, everyone should have friends like these friends. Because they are genuine. And genuine people are such a rarity in this day and age. And I feel privileged to have these people, big and small, in my life.
The kids all get along brilliantly. Every time we get together. Today was no different. I have a fabulous photo of the four girls hand in hand walking along. Just amazing.
Four hours flew. It really did. There were very few incidents and a great day was had by all. And some great photos were taken to boot.
Once we got home I decided that the lawn did need mowing, and I could no longer hold it off.
I have decided that one can only correctly gauge how hot a day is after one has mowed a large back lawn.
Today was hot. Seriously hot. I had to come in and have a Zooper Dooper (the kids were rapt because of course they got one too) to try and rehydrate and cool off.
I did the front lawn too. That was far quicker than the mammoth back lawn. I do need a whipper snipper though. Another time.
And then we made dough to make santa heads with handprints. The kids loved it, I made decorations with the leftovers, then popped it in the oven.
It is to be baked for 3 hours at 100.
My oven starts at 120.
I forgot they were in it.
4 and a bit hours later I remembered.
Tomorrow we will be making santa heads. Again. Deja vu. At least I know the kids will enjoy it……..
Nor would you expect to hear "Here's a rib. Why don't you hold that?"
We went to the museum today. I adore the museum. Simply adore it.
There are several reasons why. First and foremost, being a single mum to three wonderful little folks, well, it is free. As I have the pensioner concession and the kids are kids we don't pay for entry for any of us.
Score.
We pay $16 to park underneath. We could park on the street. However if it rains ba bow. If it is incredibly windy or hot or something ba bow. There is a limit on the time you can stay there.
So we park underneath. $16 well spent.
And we take a truckload of food. I made 1.5 loaves worth of sandwiches, brought a few kilos of fruit and several dozen muesli bars and other snacks.
Yes. My children eat a lot.
And so the morning was spent "in anticipation" of going. Which always makes things interesting. Not always in a good way. For there is the choice of outfit. Incredibly important. The girls found it necessary to close their door and try on several different outfits, and when I dared to venture into the foyer I heard screams of "DON'T LOOK AT ME!!!!!". To which I replied "I'm not looking at you." and wondered how they thought I could see them through a closed door. Perhaps my ruse of being able to see what they are doing at all times is working…….
Eventually we made it to the car. Lots of false starts. Some mine. Mostly theirs. But we got there.
And we started driving.
"Is this the way to get to the museum?"
"Yes baby."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been there before."
"Ooooooh. So why is it this way then?"
"Because it is."
"What's that?"
"What?"
"That."
"Where?"
"There."
"Where there?"
"There. That. The thing."
"Oh yes, that. Much clearer. What?"
"THAT! THERE!!! THE THING!!!"
"WHAT!!!!??? WHERE???????"
"The CRANE."
"Oooooh."
Seriously. I can do many things, but read your mind I cannot.
So we got to the museum, and today we were doing things differently. It wasn't just us. We were meeting friends. Turbo excitement plus.
We got there a bit early so opted to go to the rainforest walk. Now there are ramps to get up and down this rainforest walk. My kids love to run up and down ramps. These ramps were concrete. I suggested that running was perhaps not the best idea as if there was a bit of a stutter in the mechanism then tumble down would come child and come an absolute cropper.
So they agreed to this. The girls I mean. Master 3 was strapped into the pram. Safely. I love the pram. Not just for the keeping child restrained factor but it saves me having to carry bags…..
But I digress.
Girls started running and I reminded them they shouldn't. And so they started walking. Briskly.
Now you may recall they chose their own outfits today. Miss 4 opted for a beautiful little skirt that had layers and layers of chiffon, one atop the other ruffle style.
When this style of skirt is worn whilst power walking it creates an absolutely amazing visual. And so I pushed the pram, watching Miss 4 power wiggling up the ramp in front of me with tears streaming down my face and struggling for air because seriously, it was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life. And the look on Miss 4's face as she did the hairpin turn halfway and saw me smiling so widely and being so happy (albeit laughing at her patootie but she didn't twig to that) was reflective of my happiness, because she saw me being happy and mirrored it times a thousand. It was fabulous.
So we rainforested for a bit and then our friends arrived. There are friends and there are friends. These friends are friends that, well, everyone should have friends like these friends. Because they are genuine. And genuine people are such a rarity in this day and age. And I feel privileged to have these people, big and small, in my life.
The kids all get along brilliantly. Every time we get together. Today was no different. I have a fabulous photo of the four girls hand in hand walking along. Just amazing.
Four hours flew. It really did. There were very few incidents and a great day was had by all. And some great photos were taken to boot.
Once we got home I decided that the lawn did need mowing, and I could no longer hold it off.
I have decided that one can only correctly gauge how hot a day is after one has mowed a large back lawn.
Today was hot. Seriously hot. I had to come in and have a Zooper Dooper (the kids were rapt because of course they got one too) to try and rehydrate and cool off.
I did the front lawn too. That was far quicker than the mammoth back lawn. I do need a whipper snipper though. Another time.
And then we made dough to make santa heads with handprints. The kids loved it, I made decorations with the leftovers, then popped it in the oven.
It is to be baked for 3 hours at 100.
My oven starts at 120.
I forgot they were in it.
4 and a bit hours later I remembered.
Tomorrow we will be making santa heads. Again. Deja vu. At least I know the kids will enjoy it……..
Friday 6 December 2013
We went out for coffee today
as we do every Friday.
Although today things didn't go as they usually do.
Firstly we met up with a friend and a little bub instead of going alone (the three of us alone, not me alone, in which case we weren't really alone it was the three of us together, but without another party or two. Yes. I know. Stop laughing at me.)
Usually I will order the babycinos and my coffee and we go and sit down and patiently wait for our drinks whilst having a little bit of a chat and watching the waiters wondering who they are taking that drink to.
Today was not the same.
At all.
I picked up a Coke on my way to the cashier. I never do that.
We got to the cashier and when I ordered my coffee she said three words that almost floored me. In reality these words did take my breath away, quite literally.
"The machine's broken."
"Um, I beg your pardon?"
"The coffee machine is broken. We can do hot chocolates or Chais. That's it."
I looked at my friend with what could only be described as despair, whereupon I said to her "Oh God, the machine's broken. There's no coffee."
I was thrown. I was really thrown.
But at least I had Coke.
So then I had to get bacon, just to make me feel better. And the kids got a muffin. And we sat down.
And the kids ate half my breakfast. As they do.
And Coke is no substitute for coffee.
Aside from that outing we really did very little today. Although it wasn't very little as in absolutely nothing, because today was a high volume cuddle day. I have those sometimes. Some days I just want to hold my kids and squeeze them and never let them go.
So I did that. A bit.
And then we picked up Miss 5 from school, went to the supermarket and got a few things then came home.
For tomorrow is museum day. So we had to get supplies.
Once we were home with said supplies I furnished a massive Tupperware container with tiny little squares of various different sandwich fillings. In sandwich form obviously.
And then made dinner of chicken wings (cooked last night) and an amazing salad (create your own) which went down a treat.
I have a recipe for dough to make santa decorations out of handprints.
I decided to make it tonight so we could paint them over the weekend.
Long story short I didn't have enough salt. I know. Incredibly hard to believe. But true. I have added 2kg of salt to the shopping list.
So I made one batch. One. It was not enough to divide into three. And I couldn't let only 2 of the kids make them, and even then it wasn't enough. And so I thought I would make just my handprint and do the kids' ones tomorrow and then that wasn't going to work.
So we got the cookie cutters out and made decorations for the tree. Stars, hearts, hell, we even did a Miffy.
And they are in baking as we speak. I'm not sure if they will work to be honest. Because they are to be cooked at 100 Celcius. My oven doesn't go below 120 Celcius. What sort of oven starts at 120??? Seriously????? It also means I can't make my special little meringues, which I cook at 90 degrees.
And speaking of ovens that are inferior, who the hell organises a rental inspection the week before Christmas???????
MY BLOODY REAL ESTATE AGENT!!!!!!!
AND they have carefully included a list of all the things they "expect" to be "done" for this inspection. Which includes cleaning said ridiculously stupid oven.
I am far from happy.
And I will make it known that I am far from happy when I speak with them. Particularly considering they have not returned the last two calls I made to them in relation to various different issues.
Hmmm. Insert Marg Simpson groan here.
So tomorrow I am looking forward to a wonderful outing at the museum, and have some fabulous friends joining us too.
Can't wait to tell you all about it….. and I have absolutely no idea which way the pendulum will swing in that regard…… wish me luck…. I could very well need it…….
Although today things didn't go as they usually do.
Firstly we met up with a friend and a little bub instead of going alone (the three of us alone, not me alone, in which case we weren't really alone it was the three of us together, but without another party or two. Yes. I know. Stop laughing at me.)
Usually I will order the babycinos and my coffee and we go and sit down and patiently wait for our drinks whilst having a little bit of a chat and watching the waiters wondering who they are taking that drink to.
Today was not the same.
At all.
I picked up a Coke on my way to the cashier. I never do that.
We got to the cashier and when I ordered my coffee she said three words that almost floored me. In reality these words did take my breath away, quite literally.
"The machine's broken."
"Um, I beg your pardon?"
"The coffee machine is broken. We can do hot chocolates or Chais. That's it."
I looked at my friend with what could only be described as despair, whereupon I said to her "Oh God, the machine's broken. There's no coffee."
I was thrown. I was really thrown.
But at least I had Coke.
So then I had to get bacon, just to make me feel better. And the kids got a muffin. And we sat down.
And the kids ate half my breakfast. As they do.
And Coke is no substitute for coffee.
Aside from that outing we really did very little today. Although it wasn't very little as in absolutely nothing, because today was a high volume cuddle day. I have those sometimes. Some days I just want to hold my kids and squeeze them and never let them go.
So I did that. A bit.
And then we picked up Miss 5 from school, went to the supermarket and got a few things then came home.
For tomorrow is museum day. So we had to get supplies.
Once we were home with said supplies I furnished a massive Tupperware container with tiny little squares of various different sandwich fillings. In sandwich form obviously.
And then made dinner of chicken wings (cooked last night) and an amazing salad (create your own) which went down a treat.
I have a recipe for dough to make santa decorations out of handprints.
I decided to make it tonight so we could paint them over the weekend.
Long story short I didn't have enough salt. I know. Incredibly hard to believe. But true. I have added 2kg of salt to the shopping list.
So I made one batch. One. It was not enough to divide into three. And I couldn't let only 2 of the kids make them, and even then it wasn't enough. And so I thought I would make just my handprint and do the kids' ones tomorrow and then that wasn't going to work.
So we got the cookie cutters out and made decorations for the tree. Stars, hearts, hell, we even did a Miffy.
And they are in baking as we speak. I'm not sure if they will work to be honest. Because they are to be cooked at 100 Celcius. My oven doesn't go below 120 Celcius. What sort of oven starts at 120??? Seriously????? It also means I can't make my special little meringues, which I cook at 90 degrees.
And speaking of ovens that are inferior, who the hell organises a rental inspection the week before Christmas???????
MY BLOODY REAL ESTATE AGENT!!!!!!!
AND they have carefully included a list of all the things they "expect" to be "done" for this inspection. Which includes cleaning said ridiculously stupid oven.
I am far from happy.
And I will make it known that I am far from happy when I speak with them. Particularly considering they have not returned the last two calls I made to them in relation to various different issues.
Hmmm. Insert Marg Simpson groan here.
So tomorrow I am looking forward to a wonderful outing at the museum, and have some fabulous friends joining us too.
Can't wait to tell you all about it….. and I have absolutely no idea which way the pendulum will swing in that regard…… wish me luck…. I could very well need it…….
Wednesday 4 December 2013
Some days
things go really well. Smoothly. Without incident.
Those days are rare. Cherish them.
Today was horrific. That is the only word for it.
I started to write about it and deleted it. Then did the same again. Because to be quite honest I just don't want to relive it.
Not that anything monumental happened. There was the 5.30am wakeup from Master 3, the fact that Miss 4 was in my bed, again, and Miss 5 waking up at sparrow's as well. And then the tears at daycare dropping off Master 3 and then the veritable meltdown by Miss 5 when I dropped her at school.
That's all I'll say about it. Because I can't. My eyeballs hurt thinking about it.
I think I just need a break. We all need a break. But I mean a break break. Because I have been doing it all for such a long time, with just a couple of days here and there. And let's face it, when we get the odd day without the kids we don't want to clean do we…..? We want to go out, live it up, enjoy ourselves, do things we can't do with the kids around. Consequently, nothing around the house gets done, we get messy, and time is needed for recovery which could have been used to get things organised but isn't because of the fact that we had to go out and make good use of the very little time we actually get to ourselves.
Or something.
Anyway. I need a holiday.
Or a maid. Slash cook. Slash gardener. Slash driver. Slash anything at all. Just something. Someone.
It would just be nice to not have to do everything is all.
Ok pity party over.
I got free stuff today. I adore free stuff.
How did I get free stuff??
I wrote a letter. Not a complaint. No, a compliment letter. Because it was warranted.
Now I am the first to complain when things are not right. And it isn't just self-serving when I do this. Because I figure if I was in business and something was not right or was causing customers to be dissatisfied then I would want to know. So rather than bitch about it to all my friends and have the company lose potential customers because of 'bad will', I instead opt to pen these thoughts to the manufacturers in question.
Same goes with compliments. Companies should know when they are doing things right, and when customers are supremely satisfied.
I was, so I wrote.
And I received a fabulous parcel of foodie delights which I cannot wait to enjoy!!
So that was the positive part of what was otherwise a bit of a negative day.
Although work I got a lot done so not all bad there.
And I did have a nice salad for lunch.
And the kids ate all their dinner.
So there you go. It wasn't that bad at all really.
Just have to focus on the positives.
I think there's something in that for all of us, don't you?
Those days are rare. Cherish them.
Today was horrific. That is the only word for it.
I started to write about it and deleted it. Then did the same again. Because to be quite honest I just don't want to relive it.
Not that anything monumental happened. There was the 5.30am wakeup from Master 3, the fact that Miss 4 was in my bed, again, and Miss 5 waking up at sparrow's as well. And then the tears at daycare dropping off Master 3 and then the veritable meltdown by Miss 5 when I dropped her at school.
That's all I'll say about it. Because I can't. My eyeballs hurt thinking about it.
I think I just need a break. We all need a break. But I mean a break break. Because I have been doing it all for such a long time, with just a couple of days here and there. And let's face it, when we get the odd day without the kids we don't want to clean do we…..? We want to go out, live it up, enjoy ourselves, do things we can't do with the kids around. Consequently, nothing around the house gets done, we get messy, and time is needed for recovery which could have been used to get things organised but isn't because of the fact that we had to go out and make good use of the very little time we actually get to ourselves.
Or something.
Anyway. I need a holiday.
Or a maid. Slash cook. Slash gardener. Slash driver. Slash anything at all. Just something. Someone.
It would just be nice to not have to do everything is all.
Ok pity party over.
I got free stuff today. I adore free stuff.
How did I get free stuff??
I wrote a letter. Not a complaint. No, a compliment letter. Because it was warranted.
Now I am the first to complain when things are not right. And it isn't just self-serving when I do this. Because I figure if I was in business and something was not right or was causing customers to be dissatisfied then I would want to know. So rather than bitch about it to all my friends and have the company lose potential customers because of 'bad will', I instead opt to pen these thoughts to the manufacturers in question.
Same goes with compliments. Companies should know when they are doing things right, and when customers are supremely satisfied.
I was, so I wrote.
And I received a fabulous parcel of foodie delights which I cannot wait to enjoy!!
So that was the positive part of what was otherwise a bit of a negative day.
Although work I got a lot done so not all bad there.
And I did have a nice salad for lunch.
And the kids ate all their dinner.
So there you go. It wasn't that bad at all really.
Just have to focus on the positives.
I think there's something in that for all of us, don't you?
Tuesday 3 December 2013
Have you ever wondered
what it would be like to have three kids under 6?
I'll give you a teeny tiny insight.
Let's start from this morning shall we?
*undefined time*
Miss 4 hops into bed with me and proceeds to crawl under the covers. Some time later she kicks the covers off. With great force. Then turns around and punches me in the face. Asleep. Her. Not me.
*approximately 6.15am*
Miss 5 comes in. "Muuuuuuum. Is it time for breakfast?"
"No."
"Can I turn the Christmas tree lights on please?"
"Yes baby off you go."
Please let her stay out there and put the tv on.
She comes back in. "I turned them on!"
"Good girl, well done. Why don't you go and watch some tv?"
"OK!" and off she runs.
Then I hear Master 3 get up and start walking to my room and then I hear a thud as he walks into the wall.
Yes. Again.
And so he comes over crying and I lift back the covers. "Come on mate, hope in here with me and have a cuddle."
"I've done a poo."
Great. So up I get, and go to change him. May as well check the time and whack the kettle on while I'm up.
6.20am. Fabulous.
So I go back to bed. Miss 4 is everywhere. All over the bed. This isn't going to work. So I go back out to the kitchen and boil the kettle again. And then as I take the first few sips of coffee I remember I was supposed to get a blood test this morning and wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything.
Oops.
So the morning started well. We buzzed around madly, everyone got dressed, shoes and socks on, ready to rock n roll, bags packed and out the door 15 minutes earlier than usual. WOOHOO!! AND we had to because Miss 4 had an excursion today.
So as we are driving to school I tell all the kids what a fabulous job they did this morning, and how by them doing as they were told first time they were asked really helped me and I rabbited on like nobody's business. Because, well, they did well.
We got into the kinder room at daycare. Master 3 decided he would start to become a little sad.
That wasn't the worst of it. He reached towards his eye in a mock rub kind of gesture. But he had his finger out.
As he put his finger directly into his eye I involuntarily shuddered and my neck and shoulders became instantly tense. I then watched and listened, as if everything was in slow motion, as the howls commenced and the tears flowed as Master 3 complained, rather loudly, about his sore eye.
And after about 5 or 10 minutes of my trying to calm him down he then complained of a sore head.
When I explained to him that his sore head was only sore because he was crying about his sore eye, which wouldn't have been sore if he hadn't have poked himself in there in the first place I don't really think he understood.
Now by this stage it was 8.40am. Miss 5 still had to get to school.
And so I left poor little Master 3 sad and crying, which I hate doing. And yes, as I found out later, he had stopped not long after, which he always does, but it doesn't make it any easier leaving him there.
So off to school we went. Walking up to Miss 5's classroom a teacher handed me the jumper she had lost 4 days previously. Score! As we walked into the classroom I was handed the hairbrush that she had left at a diva birthday party several weeks earlier. And to crown off the joys, her water bottle which we thought she had lost was sitting on the table in her classroom.
And so Miss 5 got herself organised and then I walked out the door, alongside the windows, waving at Miss 5 all along the way, as she walked along the inside of the room along the windows waving at me, and as we got to the last window we blew each other kisses.
I don't know if other parents and children do that but I tell you what, I love that Miss 5 loves to do that. And I'll do it until she is 18 if she wants me to. Because she is my baby and I adore her and I always want her to know that.
I'm fairly sure she does.
And to think. All that happened before it even struck 9am……..
The evenings, well, I won't go into detail. I will say one thing though. Miss 5 went to her school bag when we got home and pulled something out of it, putting it less than stealthily behind her back.
And she came up to me, stood in front of me, beaming, and handed me a stick.
I could see her hands were full and I asked her "Did you fill your schoolbag with sticks?"
The response?
"Not my WHOLE bag."
Of course. Silly me.
I'll give you a teeny tiny insight.
Let's start from this morning shall we?
*undefined time*
Miss 4 hops into bed with me and proceeds to crawl under the covers. Some time later she kicks the covers off. With great force. Then turns around and punches me in the face. Asleep. Her. Not me.
*approximately 6.15am*
Miss 5 comes in. "Muuuuuuum. Is it time for breakfast?"
"No."
"Can I turn the Christmas tree lights on please?"
"Yes baby off you go."
Please let her stay out there and put the tv on.
She comes back in. "I turned them on!"
"Good girl, well done. Why don't you go and watch some tv?"
"OK!" and off she runs.
Then I hear Master 3 get up and start walking to my room and then I hear a thud as he walks into the wall.
Yes. Again.
And so he comes over crying and I lift back the covers. "Come on mate, hope in here with me and have a cuddle."
"I've done a poo."
Great. So up I get, and go to change him. May as well check the time and whack the kettle on while I'm up.
6.20am. Fabulous.
So I go back to bed. Miss 4 is everywhere. All over the bed. This isn't going to work. So I go back out to the kitchen and boil the kettle again. And then as I take the first few sips of coffee I remember I was supposed to get a blood test this morning and wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything.
Oops.
So the morning started well. We buzzed around madly, everyone got dressed, shoes and socks on, ready to rock n roll, bags packed and out the door 15 minutes earlier than usual. WOOHOO!! AND we had to because Miss 4 had an excursion today.
So as we are driving to school I tell all the kids what a fabulous job they did this morning, and how by them doing as they were told first time they were asked really helped me and I rabbited on like nobody's business. Because, well, they did well.
We got into the kinder room at daycare. Master 3 decided he would start to become a little sad.
That wasn't the worst of it. He reached towards his eye in a mock rub kind of gesture. But he had his finger out.
As he put his finger directly into his eye I involuntarily shuddered and my neck and shoulders became instantly tense. I then watched and listened, as if everything was in slow motion, as the howls commenced and the tears flowed as Master 3 complained, rather loudly, about his sore eye.
And after about 5 or 10 minutes of my trying to calm him down he then complained of a sore head.
When I explained to him that his sore head was only sore because he was crying about his sore eye, which wouldn't have been sore if he hadn't have poked himself in there in the first place I don't really think he understood.
Now by this stage it was 8.40am. Miss 5 still had to get to school.
And so I left poor little Master 3 sad and crying, which I hate doing. And yes, as I found out later, he had stopped not long after, which he always does, but it doesn't make it any easier leaving him there.
So off to school we went. Walking up to Miss 5's classroom a teacher handed me the jumper she had lost 4 days previously. Score! As we walked into the classroom I was handed the hairbrush that she had left at a diva birthday party several weeks earlier. And to crown off the joys, her water bottle which we thought she had lost was sitting on the table in her classroom.
And so Miss 5 got herself organised and then I walked out the door, alongside the windows, waving at Miss 5 all along the way, as she walked along the inside of the room along the windows waving at me, and as we got to the last window we blew each other kisses.
I don't know if other parents and children do that but I tell you what, I love that Miss 5 loves to do that. And I'll do it until she is 18 if she wants me to. Because she is my baby and I adore her and I always want her to know that.
I'm fairly sure she does.
And to think. All that happened before it even struck 9am……..
The evenings, well, I won't go into detail. I will say one thing though. Miss 5 went to her school bag when we got home and pulled something out of it, putting it less than stealthily behind her back.
And she came up to me, stood in front of me, beaming, and handed me a stick.
I could see her hands were full and I asked her "Did you fill your schoolbag with sticks?"
The response?
"Not my WHOLE bag."
Of course. Silly me.
Monday 2 December 2013
The wall got in the way.
Again, tonight.
Last night it was Miss 4, laughing and carrying on and spinning, with me telling her not to spin because she'd hit something, then laughing and carrying on and spinning and thwack. Into the wall. Bounced onto the sofa.
Laughed. Thankfully.
Tonight it was Master 3. It didn't end quite so well. It was preceded by running throughout the house, vocally as per usual, laughing, skipping, giving the odd guffaw and then before you knew it he misjudged the distance whilst trying to flit himself into the girls' room and thwack. Into the wall.
And so I scooped him up, told him that was why I don't like him running so fast through the house, and took him into the kitchen whereupon the frozen peas were applied.
After a short time I had a look. It'll bruise. Nice. Another to add to the current collection of chin, arm, leg, leg, back and a few mosquito bites that have reacted badly to boot.
That probably sounded harsh. Yes, I explained the harsh reality of what had happened, but the entire time I was holding the frozen peas against his melon I was kissing the top of his head and making sure he was ok. Sometimes I forget to add those bits. But rest assured, they are always there. Any time my babies hurt themselves nearly kills me. Well, not literally. But I hate it. I can't stand when they are in pain. Tis awful. I would much rather have myself suffer than them.
I gave him Panadol. He'll have a hell of a headache, that's for sure. Poor little man. And the thing is he'll do it again. With glee. Repeatedly.
I love the notes I find scattered around the house. Miss 5 loves to write and does so whenever she has the opportunity.
Here is just a small selection of the notes I found today.
"To santa, I hope I get some presents do you have me in your book yes or no."
"I love you Christmas Day" (complete with picture of tree, presents, Santa, and 'wind'.
Then there was the note she wrote me when she was staying with he about whom we do not speak over the weekend.
"To mummy I miss you so much. Are you hungry I am hungry Yes I am hungry xxx"
And my favourite?
"Dear mum, I love you so so much."
I do so love my children. Even though sometimes it takes them a veritable eternity to finally get to sleep of an evening. And they come out a bazillion times (no exaggeration, truly….). And they can whine and moan and carry on with the best of them.
But it doesn't matter how much crappy stuff happens, all you need is one positive. One teeny tiny positive. And your heart is instantly filled with the joy and love your babies bring you.
And as if right on cue I hear the sounds of a child stirring. Or falling out of bed.
One or the other.
Suppose I should go check…..
Last night it was Miss 4, laughing and carrying on and spinning, with me telling her not to spin because she'd hit something, then laughing and carrying on and spinning and thwack. Into the wall. Bounced onto the sofa.
Laughed. Thankfully.
Tonight it was Master 3. It didn't end quite so well. It was preceded by running throughout the house, vocally as per usual, laughing, skipping, giving the odd guffaw and then before you knew it he misjudged the distance whilst trying to flit himself into the girls' room and thwack. Into the wall.
And so I scooped him up, told him that was why I don't like him running so fast through the house, and took him into the kitchen whereupon the frozen peas were applied.
After a short time I had a look. It'll bruise. Nice. Another to add to the current collection of chin, arm, leg, leg, back and a few mosquito bites that have reacted badly to boot.
That probably sounded harsh. Yes, I explained the harsh reality of what had happened, but the entire time I was holding the frozen peas against his melon I was kissing the top of his head and making sure he was ok. Sometimes I forget to add those bits. But rest assured, they are always there. Any time my babies hurt themselves nearly kills me. Well, not literally. But I hate it. I can't stand when they are in pain. Tis awful. I would much rather have myself suffer than them.
I gave him Panadol. He'll have a hell of a headache, that's for sure. Poor little man. And the thing is he'll do it again. With glee. Repeatedly.
I love the notes I find scattered around the house. Miss 5 loves to write and does so whenever she has the opportunity.
Here is just a small selection of the notes I found today.
"To santa, I hope I get some presents do you have me in your book yes or no."
"I love you Christmas Day" (complete with picture of tree, presents, Santa, and 'wind'.
Then there was the note she wrote me when she was staying with he about whom we do not speak over the weekend.
"To mummy I miss you so much. Are you hungry I am hungry Yes I am hungry xxx"
And my favourite?
"Dear mum, I love you so so much."
I do so love my children. Even though sometimes it takes them a veritable eternity to finally get to sleep of an evening. And they come out a bazillion times (no exaggeration, truly….). And they can whine and moan and carry on with the best of them.
But it doesn't matter how much crappy stuff happens, all you need is one positive. One teeny tiny positive. And your heart is instantly filled with the joy and love your babies bring you.
And as if right on cue I hear the sounds of a child stirring. Or falling out of bed.
One or the other.
Suppose I should go check…..
Sunday 1 December 2013
The table's leaking.
"No baby, it isn't leaking. You've spilled your drink. Again."
Every meal time. Every time. Without fail. Someone spills their drink. It may be in the first few seconds after having sat down. It may be well into the meal. But you can put money on the fact that at some point in time, every meal, drink will be spilled.
I have come to the conclusion that mistakes will be made. Quite often. Not by the kids. By us. As parents.
Here are a few things I have learned.
Whatever you are making for dinner is not what they want. Even if they asked for it specifically.
The clothes you have chosen for your child/ren are offensive. They most definitely did not want to wear that outfit, even if it has, up until this point, been their favourite.
Your child will tell you they 'actually' want their sandwich cut into squares mere seconds after you have cut it into triangles. At their request.
When putting your child to bed, if you put their doona on they will want it off. If you leave it off they will want it on.
Don't sing. Ever. Your kids hate it.
Anything, and I mean anything, can be a weapon. Even a marshmallow in the right hands can cause grievous bodily harm. Marshmallow flour in the eye is no picnic.
If you accidentally knock your child's finger with a DVD case, even kissing it better 1000 times will not stop that child from telling total strangers that you hit them with a container.
If you mock "eat up" your child they will have no hesitation in telling people that you bit them.
If you value balance, neatness and order in your world, don't let your children decorate the Christmas tree.
Threats don't work. Bribery does.
Anything you have ever said around the children, ever, has the potential to return, at any given point in time, to be repeated by one or more of these children if it serves their purpose well.
I could keep going. I shall leave it at that for now. But there will be more. Oh yes, there will.
For there is oh so much more.
So much.
Kids. Keeping parents baffled since forever.
Every meal time. Every time. Without fail. Someone spills their drink. It may be in the first few seconds after having sat down. It may be well into the meal. But you can put money on the fact that at some point in time, every meal, drink will be spilled.
I have come to the conclusion that mistakes will be made. Quite often. Not by the kids. By us. As parents.
Here are a few things I have learned.
Whatever you are making for dinner is not what they want. Even if they asked for it specifically.
The clothes you have chosen for your child/ren are offensive. They most definitely did not want to wear that outfit, even if it has, up until this point, been their favourite.
Your child will tell you they 'actually' want their sandwich cut into squares mere seconds after you have cut it into triangles. At their request.
When putting your child to bed, if you put their doona on they will want it off. If you leave it off they will want it on.
Don't sing. Ever. Your kids hate it.
Anything, and I mean anything, can be a weapon. Even a marshmallow in the right hands can cause grievous bodily harm. Marshmallow flour in the eye is no picnic.
If you accidentally knock your child's finger with a DVD case, even kissing it better 1000 times will not stop that child from telling total strangers that you hit them with a container.
If you mock "eat up" your child they will have no hesitation in telling people that you bit them.
If you value balance, neatness and order in your world, don't let your children decorate the Christmas tree.
Threats don't work. Bribery does.
Anything you have ever said around the children, ever, has the potential to return, at any given point in time, to be repeated by one or more of these children if it serves their purpose well.
I could keep going. I shall leave it at that for now. But there will be more. Oh yes, there will.
For there is oh so much more.
So much.
Kids. Keeping parents baffled since forever.
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