I could have been a 50s housewife

this morning.

Except for the fact that it isn't the 50s.

And I am not a housewife.

But that would give you an idea as to how peachy this morning went. I can almost picture myself with bobby pins and a lovely head scarf, waist tying apron and a gingham rockabilly style dress on.

Because the kids. They. Were. Angels.

It was like out of a movie. I asked Miss 4 to get her clothes on. She did. Right then.

I asked Master 3 to get his shoes. He did. Right then.

I asked Miss 5 to come and sit down so I could do her hair. She did. Right then.

It. Was. Amazing.

Consequently we all walked down the front stairs laughing happily, before everyone getting into the car, without fighting, everyone smiling and wow. Just. Wow.

I sat down in the front seat and my shoulders were visibly about half a foot lower than usual. Because not once did I need to even so much as slightly raise my voice to make myself heard.

Not once did the kids do anything to warrant chastising.

No Thomas trains were flung at the head of another.

No yo-yos were spun around haphazardly.

No fights occurred over whose turn it was to go out the front door first.

I can honestly say that it was the most relaxed I have ever been leaving the house.

I dropped the younger two off at daycare, and there were no tears. No complaints. No nothing.

I took Miss 5 to school and she hugged me, tightly, for quite some time, and there was a slight hint of drama threatening to come in. But she fought it, and after many squishy hugs, off I went. With a massive smile on my face.

Anyone seeing me in passing would have thought that I had either just heard some fabulous news, or, well, use your imagination.

So off I toddled to work. It was busy, as per usual.

And then I left early to go get the small ones in time that we could all watch Miss 5 play tennis.

She started last year. All last term I reckon she would have hit the ball three times. Last week she hit it countless times. She was so excited that she came rushing home to tell the others how well she did, and that she hit the coach in the head with the ball (which she did, unintentionally, but loved).

So from that point forth, they were all convinced I was taking them to watch Miss 5 play. I could hardly rain on that parade, so I left work early in order to let them live the dream.

It was great watching her. Interspersed between repeat visits to the toilet. Because Master 3 is still enraptured by the whole concept of using a toilet. And Miss 4 is Miss 4 and will do whatever the hell she wants. So she thinks. But one doesn't fight with a child who says they need to go. Because the one time you think that they are putting it on and they don't really need to is the one time they have left it just that bit too long and you can imagine the rest.

So we watched. They peed. A lot. And we went home.

Leftovers for dinner. Easy peasy.

Relaxing evening, only a few things thrown at heads and a couple of dramatic episodes and they were in bed.

And that was my day. Save for the worry caused by several people close to me being unfortunately in the path of the horrific Victorian bush fires.

And whilst I am trying not to worry, as it achieves very little except to raise one's blood pressure, it is difficult not to be concerned.

So I am sending all my thoughts and prayers to those who have been affected by the fires. And my most heartfelt thanks to all the firefighters who put their own lives at risk to save others, and the property of others.

Kudos.

Stay safe one and all.