2 years.

It's a long time.

Or a heartbeat.

2 years. That is how long it has been just me and the three. As of yesterday.

2 years can fly. 2 years can drag. 2 years can yield so much. Or so little.

No matter what happens, at the end of 2 years, 2 years will have passed. It is entirely up to you what you do with that period of time.

You could sit, melancholy, depressed, sad, for the entire time. At the end of it, 2 years will have passed.

You could revel in every moment, joyously, and experience things you never thought possible. And 2 years will have passed.

You have control. Not over everything. But over some things. Over many things.

You just need to realise that.

2 years ago I thought that life as I knew it was crashing down around me. It was.

But the funny thing is this.

Today. 2 years later. I have never been happier. My children have never been happier. We are doing well. Things are, in the grand scheme, as they should be.

Other aspects we are working on. But there is only so much you can do where others are involved. You can't control the behaviour of others. You can be disappointed in it. You can be surprised by it. But you can't control it. All you can control is your reaction to it.

I have become rather philosophical these last few years. And I don't think that that is altogether a bad thing.

One thing is for sure though. I am quite possibly the luckiest person in the world to have three beautiful, healthy children who I adore, and who adore me.

Incredibly lucky.

And as I check on them while they are sleeping I stroke their heads and whisper that I love them.

They are my world.

My three.

Tis me. And the three. Forevermore.

<3

I wasn't prepared

when I picked up Miss 5 from after school care yesterday.

And why should I have been? I had no warning. None whatsoever.

Yet when I picked her up there it was. Clear as day. She had lost her front tooth.

I cannot even begin to describe my reaction. I was just so excited for her. And I could see she was excited too. Which made me even more excited.

This is a massive moment in a child's life. Massive. And mum's. Obviously.

It wasn't even wobbly in the morning. Well, it wasn't the most stable of teeth. Miss 5's jaw has been steadily expanding for months such that she now has a rather sizeable gap between one of her front teeth and the tooth beside it. Which is of course fabulous because it means her jaw is making room. But still. It wasn't wobbly wobbly. Just not stable.

So I was not prepared.

And here is what I say to all parents. Make sure that at ALL times you have a $2 coin in the cupboard. Because you never know when a tooth is going to fall out.

And guess what? I did. Because the second tooth that fell out (a week after the first) I was not prepared for. And spent much of the evening ripping the house apart trying to find a $2 coin. As I recall. One was found. But still. Nobody needs that sort of stress.

She looks so cute. Absolutely adorable. But so much older now.

And it made me think. The things that kids adore are the things that would mortify adults.

Kids have a tooth fall out and they are rapt. Adults have a tooth fall out and they don't want to go out in public.

Kids have a cold and they quite gladly share stories, and tissue viewings, of how much snot they are removing from their noses on a regular basis. Adults just want to curl up in a ball away from everyone in the entire world.

Drop-off today didn't go brilliantly for the mini ones. Sometimes that happens. And I hate it. I hate the last thing I see being my little ones crying or upset. Breaks my heart.

And then when I go to pick them up, Master 3 runs to me with force and throws himself at me. Miss 4, well, that depends upon how she feels. Often times I will be met with a great big hug. Other times, such as today, she will look at me, say "noooo" and I'll know that we have a most interesting evening ahead.

Ugh. 4 years old can truly suck. Just so you know.

They say terrible 2s are bad.

Yeah. Nah.

I'll trade you a 2 for a 3. Then raise you a 4.

So we're in the car about to head home and Master 3 pipes up. "Seth threw bark all over me today."

"Did he baby? Oh no."

"Yes, he did."

"Did you tell the teacher?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Well, we were busy."

Okey doke.

Work went well. I adore the coffee shop next door and could quite happily continue drinking coffee in there all day long. Today was a bit of a strange one though. Inadvertently bumped into someone with whom I used to work. Fabulous! What a brilliant coincidence. First, that she was at the store next to my work, and secondly that I happened to go in there just at the time she was also there!

So a future catchup is on the cards.

Right now I'm doing an experiment. Yes. I know. It is 9.15pm.

But it is a good one. And the house smells fabulous.

I'm cooking bacon in the oven. I stumbled across this "perfect" way to cook bacon and of course had to try it. It has, according to perfect recipe, 3 minutes left.

I haven't touched it. I haven't opened the door. I haven't turned it.

I cannot believe I am going to have to wait for it to cool down before eating it though.

And yes, I know, dodgy late night snack. Sue me. There was bacon in the fridge. Google made me find that bacon recipe. I don't care. I love it. (did you sing just then?? I did…..)

Ok 2 minutes and counting. I'm sorry but I have to go. I have to prepare…..

Oh please let this be as good as it smells…….

Where's the tambourine?

Where's the trampoline?

We don't realise, as parents, that sometimes what we say is not heard as we say it.

There are many reasons for this.

It could be due to ear issues. Now my kids have their fair share of these such issues, meaning that sometimes they just don't hear so well. Selective deafness might be the culprit, but in fact it is not that at all. It goes deeper, and is incredibly frustrating, particularly when a parent actually forgets this, chastises a child for not listening, then they look at you quite forlorn and say "but I didn't hear you!".

Bad. Mummy. Moment.

It could be that they don't actually 'know' the word you are saying. It may be a word they have never heard before. It may be something that sounds Greek to them.

And today I think it was a combination of many things.

We had a relaxed day. I had one child in bed with me by 4am, then another rock in shortly after, which set off my "go to your own beds" alarm, which they did, thankfully.

The morning ballet commenced as per usual with the request to turn on the tv to which I agreed and prayed that they would be engaged enough by the idiot box to let me sleep just a tiny bit longer.

I don't even know why I hope these things. They are never going to happen. There will always be a "but I was sitting there" or an "I can't SEEEEEEEEE" or a "I was playing with that" or a "Muuuuuuuuuuum". There were several. Many in fact. I gave up and got up and put the kettle on. Then went back to bed, and each of the kids took turns coming in to give me cuddles, which I loved.

After lunch we decided to play some board games.

The first one was a take off of the old Hungry Hippos.

Never. Again.

Ever.

Ever.

I don't want to talk about it.

Suffice to say it did not end well.

Then my personal fave. Mr Bacon's Big Adventure.

Now we hadn't played this one before. It was a gem of a find off freecycle, the pick up of which allowed me to catch up with a dear friend who lived not far from the passer onner of the bacon game in question.

Anyway, the game. It involves squares that are not numbered, but which are coloured in by 'picture' colouring. i.e. there is a picture instead of a colour.

The pictures? Beef jerky, olive loaf, corn dog and pepperoni. Although vegan alley has tofu and a few other horrid non-meaty things.

The game itself was fun to play. Sliding down the bacon "slide" just made me salivate.

But what I find brilliant are the suggestions of how to play to involve meat. Gold. Sheer gold. We didn't do that today. Another day perhaps…..

And then I opted to take the easy dinner and take the kids to McDonalds. We haven't been in I seriously can't remember how long. That in itself was a decent enough reason to persuade me to forgo cooking to take them there.

They were great. Fabulous in fact. Ate their little happy meals, played with the toy and then went and frolicked in the brilliant play area.

I took that time to ask one of the staff members about parties, as Miss 5 is nearly Miss 6 and I haven't organised a thing. Nor have we ever had a Macca's party so it would be a bit of a novelty.

So I had a chat to the manager who said they didn't know if they would be holding parties there but would get back to me in the next few days, but had I tried the store at Tullamarine.

I said no I hadn't but I would check it out, gave her my details etc, and watched the kids play for a bit longer before we headed back to the car.

As we all belted in I said to them I might take a bit of a detour to see the McDonalds at Tullamarine, because I hadn't been there before and wasn't sure of the facilities. They thought that was a bit cool (extended trip out) and off we went.

I have no sense of direction.

We got lost.

We turned the wrong way.

And yes, I did have the map on. I still got lost.

So we ended up the wrong way and I told them we were going home.

"Noooooo…. we want to seeeeeeeeeeee."

Fine. Ok. Sucked it up and tried again.

And this time we made it there. We got there. I have no idea how. But we did.

And when we got there Master 3 said it. "Where's the tambourine?"

"What tambourine?" I asked.

"The tambourine. You said we were going to see the McDonald's tambourine."

"What do you mean a tambourine?"

Then Miss 4 joined in.

*sigh* "The musical instrument. A tambourine."

"A tambourine?"

(both) "YES!"

"I don't understand." I said. "There is no tambourine."

Then Miss 4 got it.

"No, not a tambourine, silly, a trampoline. So where is the trampoline mum??"

Oh. Kay.

"What???"

"THE TAMBOURINE!!!!" Master 3 yelled.

"THE TRAMPOLINE!!!!" Miss 4 screamed.

Penny dropped.

"Babies, we are at McDonalds in TULLAMARINE. It is a suburb. Like Essendon. And Melbourne. There's no tambourine. And no trampoline."

And I was having a teeny tiny chuckle. Like a lot.

The version above is an abbreviated version of what I was actually involved in. And I kid you not, it could quite possibly have been the best five minutes of my life. Best. Conversation. Ever.

I love my kids. So. Much.

I can't sleep.

It used to mean that I was having difficulty in falling asleep. Or I was thinking about things so my brain wouldn't shut off.

As a parent, it is a reality. I can't sleep. Because mini folks are upset, or need me. So I just. Can't. Sleep.

Not I am having trouble sleeping. Not I am thinking so that is holding me back. I simply am unable to sleep because my small ones need me.

They had a fabulous night. Birthday party. Trampolines. Running around.

And when one of the mothers said to me "Oh with all the bouncing they're doing they'll sleep all night!" I just knew it wasn't going to happen.

Dear parents everywhere.

As soon as you say to another parent that their child will sleep all night, said child instantly gets some kind of internal shock which realigns their being such that they will not, in fact, sleep all night.

You jinx them.

Never. Ever. EVER. Say to someone that their child will sleep all night now. Because odds are that is all it will take to make that very thing not happen.

Yes, it may be superstitious of me. I. Don't. Care.

I have been around long enough to know what does and doesn't work or make sense or happen or whatever.

Say it. It won't. In this respect.

I'm tired. I really am. Last night (not this one happening right now, even though technically I could be saying it about the night before this just most recent midnight, which I'm not, I mean the one before) Miss 4 ended up in bed with me again. And then Miss 5 came in at whatever time, asking if she could turn the tv on. I asked her to tell me what time it was. It was civil enough to be awake. Ish. Not really. But not horrific. So I said yes.

Telly went on. Miss 4 leapt out of my bed and into the lounge.

Finally. Peace. A little bit of sleep while they watch some of the idiot box.

Babow.

Wrong mummy. Very very wrong mummy.

My quest to get a half hour sleep in while the kids watched Lazy Town or another of those equally insane shows that makes you want to rip your eyeballs out was not successful, with all manner of child, be they 3, 4 or 5, coming in at varying intervals, on a semi-regular basis, alternating, to ensure that sleep was not something that I achieved.

I really want a sleep in. I really really do. Not a stay in bed while you hear the kids jumping around in the lounge and then have a child crawl over you and onto your head then laugh and say "I love you mummy" (which I actually loved even though it was early and I wanted sleep it was just so bloody cute).

Future parents must be warned about this sleep thing. The current warnings are insufficient.

Future parents beware. These children will steal your sleep. In whatever way they can. They will cry when they are babies. When they are toddlers they will teethe. Then they will get growing pains. All the while they may also get night terrors. Then they may suffer the effects of a parental breakup, which may not manifest til years later, at night. Obviously. They may crawl into your bed. They may punch you in their sleep. They may come into your room at 2am and profess that they wish to go outside and play. They may climb up your legs, rest their hands painfully on your chest and then vomit on you. They may come in to tell you they wet their bed. Or did a 'big poo'. They may decide that their mattress is too soft. They may decide that their sister is sleeping in your bed so they should too, and then the sister wakes up, and fights it out with the other sibling, over the top of your very weary body.

I had a point.

I have no idea what it is.

I should really go to bed.

Waiting……waiting……

Usually when I say that I hear a thud, or a cough, or a something.

Maybe I can go now….. bonus…. not even 1am……

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Coconuts come from squirrels

if you believe Master 3.

Soup also comes from pumpkins. Same authority.

They come up with some random things these small folks. Some good, some less good, some hilarious, some downright disturbing.

I may have mentioned before that there are some things, actually a veritable plethora of things, that the all knowing "they" didn't tell you about kids.

I will tell you just a few.

They will treat you as their personal garbage disposal unit. Just used a tissue and filled it with substances contained only in horror films? Yes, let's give that to mum. She'll want it.

Um. No. In the garbage bin please.

They will use you as a human climbing frame. At all times. Not just in private. You may be conducting a civilised conversation with a store attendant and a child could quite easily come up to you, grab you by the breasts and jump, legs straddled around your thighs. It's a good look. Once you get to your third child you can actually continue the conversation without batting an eyelid, surreptitiously removing the child in question at the same time. You just can't be taught these essential life skills.

I found myself uttering the phrase "don't wee on the wall" the other day. I never in a million years would have thought I would have had use for said phrase.

Many things occur in the privacy of our own homes, and we laugh them off, and have a bit of a chuckle. The other day I was having a cuddle with Miss 5. I told her I loved her very much. Actually, I said "I love you so much baby". And she replied "And I love you my mummy" to which I replied "You will always be my baby." Her response? "I'll always be your Furby??" Yes darling. That was what I said. You will always be my Furby. You forget those added little challenges when your children have a bit of hearing loss.

We were at the shops the other day. Not one shop. In a mall. A collection of shops. Many different places for children to say or do things that may or may not be construed as, how shall I say, inappropriate, or, in some instances, completely and shatteringly embarrassing.

As we left one such store, having been through the checkout, Miss 4 and Master 3 carrying on like veritable pork chops, we made it about 10 or 15 metres from the store when Miss 4 quite literally screamed "WE HAVEN'T PAID!!!!!!!" stopping dead in her tracks, a look of absolute horror on her face.

It took all my strength to say to her, calmly, "yes baby, I paid with my card, while you and your brother were carrying on."

"Oh. Ok."

And continue on.

Not without several turned heads mind you.

The thing is this. Some days are great. Some days are horrific. Some days are average.

If all days were great we wouldn't appreciate them so much and we would take things for granted.

If all days were horrific then we would need to seriously take a look at our attitude, because there is always good in a day, you just need to find it. That said, there are some days, not many mind you, that I just wish I had never even got out of bed, because things went from bad to worse and from worse to 'those days they write books about'.

The average days are sometimes good, sometimes bad, because there is a danger of falling into a routine. There are no highs, no lows, everything is grey. And whilst there are no shocking incidents and no massive meltdowns, there are also no jubilant highs or moments of sheer and utter joy.

You know what? I'll take my roller coaster ride. Because one thing is for certain. I simply never know what tomorrow will bring.

And bring it on. I'm ready.

Pure terror.

That is what I experienced today at 5.14pm.

That was the time I entered my son's daycare room to pick him up following my day at work, and his day at daycare.

I signed the book, as I always do. I had already picked up Miss 4 from the kinder room so she had started roaming around looking for her brother, as she does.

So I called for him.

Nothing.

I didn't think anything of it, he was probably outside.

He was not outside.

I asked a staff member if they had seen him. They had not.

And then I came inside. And asked another staff member.

And after three minutes I started to become scared. Not afraid. Not merely worried. I became quite literally terrified.

The thoughts that ran through my head were awful. I was imagining he had fallen and hit his head somewhere and was laying unconscious. I was imagining he had got into something he shouldn't have and hurt himself terribly.

I was imagining he had run outside while the door was open to let someone else out.

And the lump in my chest and throat grew larger by the second.

A staff member assured me she had seen him not 4 minutes earlier, a minute before I had arrived, playing the drums. I believed that without a doubt.

But he was still nowhere to be found.

And so we were all calling out for him, searching frantically, and I was struggling to hold myself together because my baby was missing.

The staff members were affected too. Not quite as badly as myself, but they were quite obviously stunned that he could, for all intents and purposes, have disappeared.

I was on the verge of an immense panic attack when I saw him fall, ungraciously, from the shelf of a back turned bookcase, complete with cheeky grin.

I scooped him up and just held him tight, whispering in his ear to please never do that again because mummy was worried about him, telling him over and over that I just loved him so much, kissing the side of his little head, and holding him close.

He said "ok mum" and nestled in to my neck.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I recall the range of emotions I experienced today. And I would not wish any of them on anyone.

Hug your babies. Hug them tight. Because it takes but an instant and they could be gone.

I'm just ever so thankful that it was cheekiness that was the reason, and not misfortune.

Maybe there is a lesson in it. Days often become routine. The same things, the same conversations, the same everything. Kids, while thriving on routine, also often become bored.

Come hell or high water I will find the lesson. Because something that caused me that much pain in such a short space of time can not leave no trace once gone.

Actually, I think I may have worked it out…...

Break your routine. Before your routine breaks you.

Tonight I feel as though I am the luckiest person alive.

That, for now, is all.

My son plays with dolls.

He also dresses up, sometimes in princess costumes.

He has also been seen, at times, playing with a pram, and having a fabulous time.

He equally has a fabulous time playing with his toy lawnmower. Or cars. Or trucks.

Whatever my son wants to play with, as long as it isn't dangerous, I will let him.

As with my daughters. They are free to play with whatever they like. Barbies, dolls, cars, trucks, sand, dirt, hula hoops, anything.

Parents. We have children. They are exploring the world. They are having fun. They are loving finding new and exciting experiences. They are loving being involved in play. And they are loving making up their own little worlds, free from any prejudice.

Do you really want to change that?

Do you really think it is beneficial to tell your son that he shouldn't play with dolls or prams because they are "girl things"?

Do you really think you will achieve great things by telling your daughters they shouldn't play with trucks, diggers and cars?

What are you actually worried about?

Do you think that allowing such behaviour will foster "different" behaviour when the children grow up?

Say it out loud. Do you hear how ridiculous it sounds?

The girls came home the other day and Master 3 said something about wanting purple as his colour. "You can't use that, that's a girl colour" they said.

I interjected. "There are no such things as boy and girl colours. Boys and girls are entitled to use whatever colour they like. And isn't that fabulous? You can each have WHATEVER colours you would like, NO MATTER WHAT!"

And the joy that followed.

Yes, Master 3 ended up choosing red, blue and yellow, and the girls ended up choosing pink and purple, but they knew that if they had have wanted to choose a colour, they could have. And I love that.

I think too much emphasis is placed upon what kids "should" do or like or be or have or whatever.

They are children.

Let children enjoy being children.

Let them explore.

Let them play.

Let them be children.

And what will be will be.

Embrace that. Watch it. And experience the joy of your children.

Don't be the blanket to douse their flames of enthusiasm.

Here endeth the lesson….

No.

If I had a dollar for every time I heard that I would be able to buy a house. And that's just today.

3 year olds are not much fun sometimes.

Whoever said the terrible 2s were the worry had obviously sent the child to live with a relative by the time they were 3 because holy crap 3 is so much worse than 2.

For one they know more words.

And they have managed to work out how to scream louder, in a more controlled manner.

And they know how to push your buttons so much better than they did just a short year earlier.

This is my third 3 year old. I must say the girls weren't near as bad when they were young.

And there's another joy. As girls get older, the drama sinks in.

I have two girls aged 4 and 5. The drama and attitude I get from these darlings equals that of a 13 and 14 year old.

I kid. You. Not.

They aren't always possessed though. Just sometimes. Sometimes more often than not, sometimes just a bit. But possessed they can be. On a fairly regular basis.

And then there are those things that just leave you speechless.

I had a sore toe the other day. Sore as in run in search of the clippers because I had obviously knocked it on a wall or something and the side of my toe was quite inelegantly threatening to fall off. And yes, that was dramatic. I had a little bit that needed clipping. That was it.

And so off I ran (well, I didn't run, I don't run, I walked, with purpose) to get the clippers, with Miss 5 following like a shadow. She does that. Follows me so closely that I can't move. And when I go to move and elbow her in the head she blames ME for that. Yep. Go figure.

So I got the clippers. And sat down on the floor.

Miss 5 asked "What happened?"

I replied "I think I must have knocked it on something."

Response from Miss 5, looking at me, dead in the eye, with deep concern in her manner and voice. "I think it's cos you're so old."

Thanks for that. No. Really.

I have mentioned on occasion that mispronunciation gives me a little bit of a smile at times. Yes, I correct most times, some I don't.

Master 3 has a new thing. He holds his finger up in the air, raises his eyebrows and states with as much enthusiasm as a 3 year old can muster "I got a dear!!!!!"

Now it took me a while to work this out, and I did so by listening to those words that followed this random statement.

"No, little man. I have an idea."

"Yeah! I got a dear!!!!"

Just too cute. Too. Cute.

Miss 4. Must be right. Always. Have I told you about the windows? Yes? No? I have no idea. So if I have, I apologise, you're gonna hear it again. If I haven't, well, here's a little story for you.

Miss 4 must be right. About everything. She detests being wrong. About anything. And I'm talking anything. Just like the "On be heighties" she sticks to her guns too.

Windows. Play School. We all pick one. When it comes on the screams are "WINDOW TIME!! WINDOW TIME!!!" and we all make a point of picking a window. I always choose the arch window because I love it. I never pick the diamond window, and am usually incredibly annoyed if it IS the diamond window, because it is not a real window. Just like the new Wiggles are not Wiggles. IMHO. There was never a diamond window when I was growing up. Oh no, just the three. Arch. Circle. Square.

They were the good ole days.

So the windows come on, I pick arch, Master 3 picks a different one each time, and Miss 5 also does.

Miss 4. She started saying every window. That way she would never be wrong. I mentioned that this was not technically "picking the right one" but rather ensuring that she was not wrong by picking them all. She did not like that. No. Not much at all.

So then she decided to pick just one. And when she was wrong, and if she had, for example, said "Circle" and it was the square window, she would then say "I said square really quietly to myself so I got it right." Um. No. No you didn't. You got it wrong. Deal with it.

We are now, many many many MANY months later at the point where she will pick a window and will not be completely devastated if she does not pick the "winning" one.

Good. Lord. Nobody tells you about this stuff.

Miss 5 came home from school the other day and said "Look at my throat."

So I did. She asked me to, I did.

"It looks fine baby."

"One of the kids at school said it looked red."

Um. What?

"So one of the kids said it looked red and you thought that, at, how old is she?"

"6 and three quarters."

"So at 6 and three quarters she has sufficient medical knowledge to examine your throat and determine that it is needing attention, is that what I am to understand?"

Blank look. Then a giggle. Complete with hand over mouth and head tilt.

"I'm going to the toilet."

Cool. Thanks for that.

This book is getting bigger. Which book? The book of things they never told you. Or me. Or any parent for that matter.

And don't get me started on the things I find coming out of my own mouth…. good lord…..

"Mum."

"Yes little man."

"Can I eat this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not food."

"Oh. What is it?"

"It's a Christmas decoration."

"Oh. Can I eat it?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not food."

"Oh. What is it?"

"It's a Christmas decoration."

"Oh. Can I eat it?"

Welcome. To. My. World.

Apple stickers.

They're everywhere.

I don't mean stickers shaped like apples. I mean the stickers you find on apples when you buy them. They are little ovals or circles and tell you the sort of apple and have some sort of code on them.

Well. They are all over my house. Because my darling children discover them, whilst they are eating an apple, remove said sticker, and feel the need to ask any random piece of furniture or wall to assist them in removing it from their finger once it is removed from the apple.

Joy.

I found one on the bathroom sink today. And then I saw three under the bench top. That was a fluke - a mere few degrees either way and I simply would not have seen them.

I wonder if I used to do things like that as a kid? I do know there were plenty of things I did about which my parents had little idea though.. so surely I would have…

I do recall the famous gherkin tossing episode of 1982. My brother and I were sitting at the table and had been given the wonderful luxury of a McDonald's hamburger. And of course inside there was gherkin, which neither of us liked. My brother went to flick it off his finger and it flicked upwards. And hit the roof. Where it stayed. And so I did the same. Voila. Gherkin roof. Hysterical laughter. Mum and dad were not informed of this little episode.

My brother and I used to go and visit my dad at his work when we were in our late teens. We'd go into one of the offices and sit and have a chat, and on one of these occasions my brother noticed a small hole in one of the roof panels. And he set himself a challenge. He would attempt to flick an elastic band through the hole.

Now over the space of the next three or four years we became quite talented at roof elastics.

But it wasn't until many years later that our work paid off. For our father decided one day to fix the roofing panel that was broken. And at home, as he was recounting this experience, it was all we could do not to erupt into fits of laughter when he expressed immense confusion and concern that when he removed the roofing panel, hundreds and hundreds of elastic bands fell to the floor. Now that, my friends, is gold.

Miss 5 is an affectionate little thing. She will run up to me, give me a great big hug, and say "I just want you" and squeeze me tightly.

The other day we were having a cuddle and she said she just wanted to stay with me.

"You can stay with me baby" I replied.

"How long can I stay with you?"

"As long as you like baby."

"How long do you want me to stay with you?" she asked.

And I answered "Forever."

She looked at me. She giggled. And said "Nooooo" and giggled again.

So I said "Why not??"

And she leaned over and whispered in my ear "Because you might die."

Ah kids. Freaking out their parents since the dawn of time.

Vomit at me.

"I beg your pardon?"

"VOMIT AT ME!!!!!" beckoned Master 3.

I was trying to work out what the hell he was on. And then I remembered. A few weeks ago I was messing about and told him I was going to vomit (which I wasn't) and then did a mock vomit sound at him, inducing immense laughter.

So that was it.

"VOMIT AT ME!!!! And pretend to be a dinosaur."

Oh. Of course. The natural combination.

And being the parent that I am, I actually attempted to do so. And it apparently worked because Master 3 was rolling on the floor with laughter and wanted me to keep doing it. So a couple of vomit dinosaurs later I left him sprawled on the lounge room floor and went in search of something to lubricate my now hideously dry throat. I must say, I do feel sorry for any dinosaur that had a bit of gastro or vomiting bug, because my throat was mighty parched after just a few episodes.

Now there is one thing about which I have not spoken a lot. But it is something that is a huge part of any parent's life.

Poo.

Yes. I know. Disgusting.

I promise I won't rabbit on.

But Master 3. Seriously.

"Muuuuuuum!! Come and look at this!!!!!"

"Yes…."

"It looks like a fish!!!!! And it came out so fast!!! It just all felled out of my bottom and there it is!!! Now go away so you don't smell it."

Ok mate. Thanks for that. *shudder* I just can't wait until they are that little bit older so I am no longer invited to view the offerings of the day.

Miss 4 was doing some crafty stuff today. She was making herself an envelope to go with the paper creation she had also made, with the aid of glue, sparkly things and tape.

She practically covered the entire envelope in tape. Pity the poor person to whom said envelope is given. They'll need a chainsaw to get through it.

And I think she realised that.

"Muuuuuuuum….. there's too much tape on here…"

"How did it get there?"

"I put it there."

Ok then.

Moving on.

Master 3 has a Buzz Lightyear outfit. It is a little top and some inflatable wings. It also has a little hat (or "hair" as he calls it) which has mysteriously vanished for now.

So Master 3 was dressed up in his Buzz Lightyear outfit today, wings and top, and undies. No pants. Who needs pants when you're Buzz Lightyear!!!!

And I may have mentioned that Master 3 is off his head. Just a tad. And runs everywhere. Often.

So he was running. And quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen was him quickly turn himself sideways and "side run" because his wings didn't fit through the door. I was actually crying. Hilarious. He'd obviously had an encounter with the doorway that left him a little rattled and wasn't going to let that happen again.

The odds of someone refusing lunch in a household of three children under 6 is fairly high. What is surprising is that the child who has chosen the fare for the lunch is the one that often refuses it. Why? Because it is in the wrong bowl. Or has been cut wrongly. Or the spoon is beside the bowl and not in it. Or there is no cheese. Or there is cheese. Or he wanted to sit in that seat. Or she wanted the OTHER sauce. Or there is no water on the table. Or there is water on the table.

Life is never dull. Ever.

Nor is it quiet. Except when we're playing the quiet game. Or Dead Fish. I think I'll encourage those games a bit more.

Quiet. So nice. I have it now in fact. And can almost feel my shoulders beginning to relax…..

I reckon I'll be just about perfect by the time the first sleepwalker visits….. sensational…..

Oh, and I got all the washing folded!!!!!! HURRAH!!!!!!!! I know. Small achievement. Though massive. I mean massive.

Unless you have three kids you don't know just how many clothes three kids go through. Especially when it is dress up day. Which today apparently was. Miss 5 was Rapunzel. And put on every piece of jewellery she and her sister collectively own (jewellery meaning plastic and wood necklaces and bracelets and whatnot), but seriously, it would have weighed a tonne. That may have been a contributing factor to her mood…. yes… let's put it down to that…. not to the internal drama queen that is morphing from day to day, from hour to hour, and that the other day said "blah blah blah" to me. Fabulous. She's 5. God help me when she's a teenager. And Miss 4 too. And Master 3.

Oh crap. What have I created????

Give. Me. Strength.

You wouldn't believe me

if I told you what my week has been like.

Seriously. You wouldn't.

So last time we 'spoke' I had seen the Thermomix. And Satan's little spider.

Well, since that time, most importantly, I have tweaked the accidental budget and Thermomix shall be in my home by my birthday in September. And my god I am excited by that thought.

So last Friday night I stayed up. Far too late. But, well, I could sleep in. And sleep in I did. It was epic. Until nearly midday.

And then I popped into town to the Casino and caught up with a gorgeous friend who I haven't seen since my days up in FNQ (Far North Queensland for those playing at home, so I really shouldn't have written the shortened version, because this has actually ended up far longer….live and learn I guess….).

And then after that I popped over to a very good friend's house and was fortunate enough to witness her dog try to make his way through the window into the lounge room. And yes I took a photo. And my sandals made a baby crawl. For the first time. Sandals rock. Of that there is no doubt.

And then off to another dear friend's house for some drinks and chats and, wait for it, board games.

Interject into my own space here - I have some amazing friends and could quite well be the luckiest little chickadee on this fair planet.

Back to it. We had some drinks. And some chips. And some dips (fabulous!). And some laughs.

And the board game. Oh, the board game.

I do believe it was called Tipayatung or something similar. I'll give you a brief guide. You have a little piece you use to move around the board. There are various categories - film, quotes etc, and when you land on a square you have to answer the relevant category, read by one of your board game mates.

It would be something like "To err is human, to forgive ________"

Or "Where there's a will, there's ________"

So you get the gist.

Well, late at night, the first few questions are easy. Of course they are. They plan it that way.

And then it gets hard. And then you get silly. And then when you don't know the answer you just answer the last answer.

And you get "A barking dog gathers no moss."

And you start singing "Like a rolling stone" complete with Bob Dylan accent.

Fabulous.

So that was another great night.

Early morning return of mini folks resulted in a bazillion hugs and cuddles and it was great to see my babies after their 40 hour stay away.

Sunday was pseudo BBQ day. Back at the house of the board game fame. All the kids just get along so well. It is fabulous. We, as adults, really don't have to do anything. Save for the odd application of frozen peas when an overenthusiastic 3 year old hits a wall. Literally.

So another fabulous day spent. The exit was probably a little more dramatic than I would have liked, and many a tear was shed (by the kids, not me. This time). But we got home. And they eventually went to bed.

And a fabulous weekend was had. By all.

And then Monday came. Monday. Bloody. Monday. No wait. It's Sunday in the song. Well I'm changing it. Because Monday. Bloody. Monday.

Woke up feeling a bit dodgy. Dropped kids off, went to work. Dodginess increased.

Long story short, my trip to the chemist to get some Nurofen to help the pain ended up with me at my GP and him calling an ambulance. So yes, I had the bells and whistles ride to the hospital and ended up spending a night in the coronary care unit.

Chest pain. Pretty full on.

And I did the stress test on the Monday, all is ok, ticker working fine, but I do still feel as though I have been either electrocuted or involved in a very bad car accident.

So please excuse my absence this week. I've been doing the grown up thing and looking after myself and having a bit of a relax.

But I'm getting back on that ole horse now. So you can't get rid of me that easily!!!!

And my parting note is to say that my children were possessed today. Head spinning, projectile vomiting, Linda Blair image-inducing possessed.

And I took them to assembly at Miss 5's school. And vowed never to take them again.

I will though. I do. Every week. But holy crap today sucked.

But that is a story for another day because this little black duck is about worded out.

Good to be back :) Missed you…...