I could have sworn that mere days ago I jotted down the inner ramblings of my addled mind. Apparently not. Apparently my addled mind addled itself further by leading me to believe that I had posted when in fact I had not. What I had done, in fact, was thought. And thus that led me to believe that said thoughts had been transcribed into text and blogged when in fact they hadn't.
So there you go.
Anyway. The week has been a busy one. A good one, but a busy one.
I'm really looking forward to Easter next week. And not for the obvious reasons.
I don't really like Easter. As a general rule. For someone who is allergic to chocolate it really doesn't float my boat. Yes, I realise there is a deeper meaning to Easter, and we as Catholics in this little family unit, respect that. However that opens up a whole other annoyance factor with Easter, that being that during Lent (the lead up to Easter) Catholics do not eat meat on Fridays.
Now I would be quite happy, as a terrible Catholic, to eat meat every Friday except for Good Friday. Even many non-Catholics practise the "don't eat meat on Good Friday" thing, and seafood places are booked out months in advance and the markets sell an entire year's worth of prawns every Good Friday.
But Miss 5 is slightly more hardcore than me.
The first Friday in Lent I sent her to school with a salami sandwich. She was rather unimpressed and proceeded to lecture me about the importance of not eating meat on Fridays in Lent, so much so that we had to write "NO MEAT" on every Friday on the calendar until such time as Easter visits.
Fabulous.
Fridays are hard. Really really hard. Meat is my snack. I never realised quite how much meat I ate until I wasn't allowed to eat it. For just one day. Which reinforces my notion that I could never, ever, be a vegetarian.
The kids did a show for me tonight. They had their little discussions in the foyer, Miss 5 came into the lounge and did the whole "Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to present for you this our show."
It's funny, kids and shows. We had dancing (attempts at imitating ballet dancers from the television - we are not dancers in this house), singing (I loved the rendition of "I miss you"), cartwheels and all sorts of activities. In show form.
At one point Miss 5 and Miss 4 were preparing to do their ballet dance. I vaguely noted Master 3 standing at the doorway, but didn't give it much thought as I figured he was just watching. Then the lights went out. He was standing on a little step, and as soon as he had turned the lights out he turned a torch on and shone it on the girls "It's a show" he said "Shows do that."
I was speechless.
So the show went on. And on. And on. And on. And anyone with children who are in the show performing age will know that these shows may well go on until such time as the children reach high school. The one show I mean. They just. Go. On.
I have to share with you the lyrics of "I miss you", Miss 5's wonderful first song.
"I miss you, when I go to school, and I don't see you. But I knoooooooow that you will come to pick me up, later, after schooooooooool. And I love you and I miss you…..soooooooo much."
She is adorable. Going through a massively clingy phase. But adorable.
Yesterday was a great day. Not just a good day. Actually not just a great day. It was a fabulous day.
The girls got hair cuts. Nothing monumental? Um, I beg to differ. They both have long hair. Miss 5 has had probably 7 or 8 hair cuts in her life. Miss 4? Um. No. Her hair, which she could sit on, still retained her "baby curls". She had never had it cut. Unless you include the two snips a random hairdresser attempted when Miss 4 was Miss 18 months, and which resulted in a sound not dissimilar from the air raid sirens utilised in World War II.
And in that regard I was surprised. Actually that is not correct. I was gobsmacked. Miss 4 was amazing. Absolutely. Amazing. She sat still for the entire time. She did as she was asked with regard to moving her head in different directions. She didn't cry. She didn't flinch. She was amazing.
And what is more amazing is that my darling Miss 4 wanted to have her hair put in the plait so she could donate it for wigs. How would she know of this?? She had heard me talking to them when I was explaining that I was going to cut my hair really short to donate it. This was, of course, before I realised that if you have more than 5% grey you can't actually donate your hair. My percentage, um, undisclosed, but far more than 5. But I digress. Miss 4 shall be posting off her plait.
And the haircuts on both the girls look just amazing. Adorable. Just. Brilliant. And they are both rapt.
The rest of the day was great too. A visit to Bunnings to get some more plants for our newly created veggie patch (that was a Friday activity courtesy of some amazing friends who gave up their time and physical energy to create this for me, and to whom I am immensely grateful), then planting them, a few more outings and then all kidlets going to bed without incident. Astounding.
Today was less smooth. Random stupid things happened. I cut myself on a knife while doing the dishes. That didn't tickle. More random than that, I went to grab a cake rack from the sink. This cake rack is not the normal across only cake rack. This one is a "check" pattern cake rack. So when it fell, and I went to grab it, one of my fingers inadvertently slipped through one of the holes, and the rack twisted around further as it fell, such that my finger became stuck in the cake rack. Rather painfully I might add. It probably would have been removed quicker if I hadn't stood there saying "are you kidding me?" out loud to the cake rack. So removed it is. Albeit a little larger than the other fingers now.
So I promise I shan't leave as long between posts as I have done this time.
I shall leave you with this thought. Sometimes, kids say things. Sometimes these things can cut deeply. They aren't always true. But they are said, and they can hurt. Other times, kids say things and you just have to look at them. And wonder what the hell they are thinking.
"I love you mummy. You look like an egg. Your head, it's like the top of an egg. I love you so much."
So there you go. I am officially entitled to crack every once in a while. After all. Eggs do that.
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