We have a new table.

It is amazing. Astounding in fact.

Our old table seated 4. Comfortably would be the wrong word. Uncomfortably and unstably would be more apt.

The new table is more than twice the size of the old table. Solid as a rock (well, not really, solid as pine, but more solid than uncomfo-table - see what I did there?? Uncomfortable - uncomfo "table"… yeah yeah fine. I thought it was funny).

I was more than a little surprised when old mate turned up to deliver the table and was alone.

Um. Yes. You heard me. Well, you read me technically, but if you are like me, when you read you read in a "voice" and usually if you have been reading the same person's writing for some time they have developed their own particular voice and accent and inflections. Anyway, what was I saying?

Oh yes. The table. Alone. It is a big bloody table. And he was alone. Apparently they were short staffed.

So I said to him that I could help a little, but not if it was really really heavy. I mean after all, I'm no removalist. He said thanks and huffed off out to his truck. I attempted to get the kids to all sit on a sofa or chair. That failed somewhat. But they sort of stayed out of the road.

I looked out the screen door to see old mate attempting to do something or other and swearing. He was not a happy chappy. Firstly because he was alone. Secondly because in many instances when delivering furniture there is a male there to assist if need be. Thirdly because I have six steps up to the house. Fourthly because the door is quite a tight fit and a far from ideal angle into the lounge. And fifthly he had an audience of three avid little watchers.

Now I watched as he got the table out of the truck, down on the little hoisty thing at the back and onto the trolley. And I watched him wheel it up to the base of the stairs. Then I watched him slowly pull the trolley up the stairs, one at a time, with much expulsion of air on his part in a somewhat vocal manner, until the trolley finally reached the top, with him all but pinned against the veranda fencing.

When he spoke saying "I can't even see where the leg is" I told him that it wasn't going to make it. I felt oh so helpful right about then. His audible groan made me think that perhaps I should have been a little more optimistic in my reply, so I took that on board.

And as I watched him manoeuvre this massive table on a trolley, slowly jimmy it back and forth, I was sure it was going to get stuck there. And remain there. Complete with old mate stuck too.

It did not. And as it miraculously made its way into my house I told him he was a genius. Perhaps an overstatement, but it made him smile for a nanosecond.

He then proceeded to bring the table into the house and pop it where it was supposed to go.

And as he walked out the door to get the chairs Miss 5 said "What does he look like when he's happy?"

Oh. Joy.

I just prayed he would hurry up and bring the chairs in before they said anything else. He did. They didn't. I thanked him profusely. He grumbled something. And then he was off.

And there was the table. In all its glory. It is fabulous. I just love it. What is the best part about it is that there were only two from which to choose. I opted for this one because it was just wood. No upholstery. Much safer bet with kiddies.

And it is beautiful. I just love it.

So we ate at the new table today. Twice. Lunch, then dinner.

And it made me realise. We have no placemats. And we have no coasters.

But we do have Ebay. I'll be off then…...

Is that a clean cup?

That was Master 3's question. He had asked me for a drink of water, politely, and I had agreed, complimenting him on his manners.

I proceeded to take a cup from the drying rack and fill it with water.

His comment…. "Is that a clean cup?"

Really. Like I'm going to take a dirty cup, fill it with water and give it to him.

It makes me wonder what they are actually thinking.

That said, this is the child who, every time I am changing his pooey nappy reminds me that "You can't eat poo."

Seriously. Like, would you ever consider it?? EVER????? SO WHY SAY IT THEN!!!!!

School was closed today. Not daycare. School. So the little ones went to daycare and it was a day for mini chick and me to spend some time together.

First thing we did after dropping little ones off? What else would you do? We went to the doctor. Swimming at school starts on Monday, and what with Miss 5 bursting her eardrum, we had to make sure it had healed.

It has.

:)

So then a few errands, then off to see a Christmas store. As you do. And it was fabulous. I could have stayed there all day.

About 8 years ago I travelled to Canada and the states, and whilst in Canada I visited several Christmas stores. Amazing. And I will go back. And take the kids. They would adore it.

Fruit man visit then supermarket then home.

And it was cooking time. Not for us. For a neighbour. She isn't well and I figured it might be nice to cook her some things she could whack in the freezer for when she just doesn't feel up to cooking.

So we made sausage rolls, bolognaise sauce and garlic bread. Brilliant.

Miss 5 does love to help. So much so that she belts on through before even listening to what needs doing. That is sometimes a problem. Today a little bit. But we're working on that. And to be fair she really is doing so well with it.

And they turned out great. As did the bolognaise. And the garlic bread…….

It is 11.05pm. And I have literally just then completely hit the wall.

Completely.

I have to go.

Must…..sleep…...

I don't think people realise

just how much it costs to raise children.

People without children I mean.

Or those who have chosen to avoid parental responsibility.

Anyway. My kids eat a lot. And they have magically managed to outgrow nearly all of their shoes. And it would seem their shorts.

Fabulous.

So I was thinking today, if your surname was "Time" it would be massively cruel to call your kid Justin. Same if your surname was "Case".

If your surname was "Burr" it would be cruel to call your child "Timothy". "Tim" for short.

I cannot comprehend what these celebrities were thinking when they named their babies all sorts of fantastical names.

And no. I do not have any idea why those things were going through my mind.

It was a bit warm today. Thank you captain obvious.

But it was. And so I dug through the kids' summer clothes to see what fit them still.

Well, that was a fun exercise now wasn't it? At least little man has some shorts that still fit him. The girls though? Nothing. Nada. Nix. Nil. Ba bow.

So I'll have to sort that out. And yes I know I have already mentioned that but to be fair that was over a half an hour ago.

It took me that long to type that? Um. No. It did not. In between writing it the first time and writing it the second time the temperature has apparently risen which has made the children more restless and I have thus rescued one from falling halfway off the bed and another is currently, as we speak, still groaning. Which she did last night too. Why? No idea. At all. It doesn't seem to be related to anything.

I don't have a Melways. I have mentioned this before. I have a chick on my GPS who doesn't understand that not all roads go the ways she wants them to go. Case point in question. Yesterday I had to drive to Preston. It was about 20 minutes away, so the GPS chick said. GPS chick did not factor in no right turn intersections. And when I got to one and turned left instead, she started to sound really annoyed that I hadn't followed her directions. So I calmly explained to her that I couldn't turn right, whilst still driving, looking for somewhere to turn around. And then she said it. Then she got narky and told me to turn around. And so I said to her well of course I will, I only turned left because you got it wrong in the first place, to which she answered "at the roundabout do a u-turn" and I KNEW she was annoyed. So I just said to her well der.

Yes. I'm 40.

And I was talking to a GPS.

Sue me.

I eventually got where I needed to go. And I had no idea where I was going when I was going there because GPS chick annoyed me that much I turned her off. So then I was really flying by the seat of my pants. And I am geographically challenged. As well as spatially challenged.

I have several challenges in my life.

Several.

Miss 5 had her first school disco today. I left work early so I could check up on her and make sure all was ok. I peeked in the window and saw she was roaming around happy as Larry (arm still in sling mind you), shoes off, glow sticks on head. Perfecto.

So I thought yep. I'll just duck down the supermarket and get some things and pop back later. So I did. And by the time I got there two parents told me that she had been waiting at the door for me to get there. And my heart sank. I hadn't told her I was actually "coming" to the disco. Because it was for preps and grade 1s. But she expected I would. So then I felt like a schmuck for not going. But then I was glad I didn't because she spent the next 20 minutes stuck to me like a mollusc. And if I had have been there the entire time I think that may have been the case for the entire time. As it was she wanted to leave early, and that was fine, I didn't mind, but I'm glad she went, and I'm glad I didn't for the start. At least she got some preppy grade one dance disco action time.

I had given her $1 today. Why? There was a lemonade stall at lunchtime to raise funds. 50c for a small lemonade, $1 for a large. And then there was the disco this afternoon. Glow sticks for 50c.

So when I dropped her off I said she could either get a small lemonade and then a glow stick at the disco. Or a large lemonade and no glow stick. Or no lemonade and 2 glow sticks.

She got 2 glow sticks. That's my girl.

Cos the glow she go. On and on. Lemonade, done in a flash.

And tonight she is asleep in bed, albeit in a fairly groany mood, with the glow sticks attached to her bed rail. Glowing.

I wonder how long they'll last…..

I beg your pardon.

Rather than "what", I tell the kids that "I beg your pardon" is much nicer.

One thing that is lacking in this world is manners. Children are being raised without them. And yes, I know, that is a MASSIVE generalisation.

But let's be fair; the number of kids who say please and thank you is diminishing. And just general courtesy, well, it is a rarity more than the norm.

That is why when I see a child with manners I am so pleasantly surprised.

I'll give you an example. On Halloween we did the trick or treating. And after rushing a little we got back to our house to be there for some trick or treaters to come around to us.

Some grabbed handfuls, wherein they were told to take only a few please.

And there were some who took one, I told them they could take another, and they said "Thank you very much." To which I replied "You are most welcome." They smiled, and off they went on their merry way.

Now in the grand scheme of things it may seem inconsequential, the quest for manners. But it is not. It truly is not.

If everyone had the courtesy to say please and thank you, to stand aside rather than push ahead, to let someone in who was trying to merge, to stand back for someone having obvious difficulty to let them pass, to offer assistance to those who may require it, and to do so without hesitation, and without any expectations in return, what a wonderful world that would be.

And so I try to teach my children manners.

And tonight, my beautiful frustrating little children played that game of coming in and out of their rooms after they had been put to bed. It doesn't always happen. But it does happen. And tonight my frustration levels were rising somewhat, and my patience was growing thin.

So after some minutes of silence, when I heard Master 3 mutter a faint "Muuuuuuum" I yelled out "WHAT??!"

Miss 4 then said, quietly, but audibly, "I beg your pardon."

Yep.

At least it is sinking in I guess.

Come and find us!

That is a call I hear, fairly often, which is usually followed by me making exaggerated movements around the house, checking in cupboards and on top of shelves and the most ridiculous of places to find the children who I can quite clearly hear laughing from underneath one of the beds.

That is what usually happens.

Today we were having a lazy day and sitting at home watching a DVD. It was Monsters University, which we had bought on yesterday's shopping outing, forgoing such things as muesli bars in order to fit it into our little budget.

So we were watching, and it was paused because Miss 5 needed to go to the loo, and I figured that whilst she was absent and the picture was paused I would use that opportunity to make coffee number 5 or 6 for the day. Yes. It was a heavy coffee day.

Why?

Because at 4am Miss 4 visited my bed. And at 4.15am Miss 5 visited my bed. And because Miss 5 is still tender in the arm, and Miss 4 is Miss 4, well, I just thought it was easier to just get out, let them have my bed and I would go sleep on the sofa.

So I grabbed Miss 5's doona and pillow and that is precisely what I did. Why didn't I sleep in her bed? I have absolutely no idea. That would have been the logical thing to do. At 4.15am logic is quite obviously not my strong point.

Anyway, I was tired today, so coffee aplenty.

Coffee made and I hear "Come and find us!!" followed by hysterical laughter times 3.

The laughter is coming from the girls' room.

So first stop for me is the bathroom.

"Are they in here?? No, they aren't. How strange. I wonder where they could be."

*hysterical laughter from the girls' room*

"COME AND FIND US!!!!!!!"

And I go into Master 3's room. "Are they in here? Perhaps under the bed?"

*hysterical laughter from the girls' room*

And so I go into the girls' room, listening to the laughter which is coming from the direction of under Miss 4's bed, where they usually all hide.

Usually.

And I check in the cupboard. "Could they be here?? NO! They aren't! I wonder where they are…."

*hysterical laughter*

And that's where things changed.

I assumed they were all under the bed, so when I said aloud "Are they behind the door?" and opened the door, when Miss 5 said "Boo" from her hiding place behind the door I damn near had a heart attack.

I proceeded to fall back on her bed, half laughing half crying because she seriously scared the living daylights out of me. Compounded by the fact that we were watching Monsters University, which had had us being "scared" or at least roared at for the previous half an hour.

I must say it took me a little while to recover. But it meant that I no longer needed the coffee. I still had it of course. Just didn't need it.

Master 3 has realised that life does not imitate television.

He realised this by way of a toy. A toy hammer. And he discovered that unlike Bob the Builder, who is able to fix things simply by hammering them, if you hammer a toy plastic car with enough force, it doesn't actually "fix". Quite the contrary.

And then hammering it twice as hard to fix the damage done by the first hammering only serves to shatter the plastic even more.

And yet the hammering continues.

I'm going to hide it. I have to. Or I will go insane.

I am constantly surprised by how much my kids eat. They think about food at all times. Incessantly. They will have just had a meal and then they ask when the next feeding session is.

10 minutes after lunch today Miss 4 asked "When is it afternoon tea time?"

I asked her if she thought about anything besides food.

And she said "Yes. I think about you."

Cue awwww moment. And then big hugs. For ages.

I do love my cuddles. And I love that the kids love cuddles. Much as at times they are reminiscent of molluscs hanging off me, I still love that they are so affectionate.

I love that Master 3 will be sitting on the sofa, look over at me and say "I love you so much mummy."

Even though it is quite disturbing to my sleep, I love that the kids come into bed with me just to have a cuddle. And for the time being I will let them. I guess that eventually I'll slowly wean them out of the habit, because seriously I need to start getting more sleep. But for now I just love the cuddles. And they grow up so quickly. And before I know it they won't want to be giving me cuddles.

So I'll take every cuddle I can get right now.

And as it stands there are plenty.

And that is just fine by me.

Note this day.

For this evening, my three beautiful children all went to bed, albeit a little later than usual, and fell straight to sleep. All of them. Yes. I mean ALL OF THEM. And no, I'm not yelling, because heaven forbid I should wake them but seriously, all of them.

They didn't come out once after going to bed.

No little "Muuuuuum, I need to tell you something".

No "I want some water please."

No anything.

We did have a big day. This morning we did the grocery shopping, which is always fabulous with three kids in tow. But they were great.

I must confess though, I did semi-bribe them by getting them each a frosty mug.

What is a frosty mug? It is a $2 piece of absolute wonderment that you chuck in the freezer, then after it is frozen you put in a drink, stir, and watch as it turns into a slushie. Amazing.

And yes, I got one for me too. Best $8 I have spent in a while.

And so we finished, and came home, then started the cleanup as we had friends arriving at 11.

I asked all three to help. Only the one-armed one helped. So she got a sticker on her chart.

I have this chart. It's a rewards chart essentially, but no set "tasks". It is more rewards for doing things that are kind, compassionate or helpful.

So for example today when Miss 5 helped, even though it was difficult for her, she got a sticker.

The other day Miss 5 wanted something that Miss 4 had in place of what Miss 5 already had, and Miss 4 very gladly handed it over to her and swapped. Sticker.

With Master 3 it is a little simpler. Put your shoes on the first time you are asked. Sticker. Helps me no end. Otherwise we begin the shoe ballet. He is fussier with shoes than the girls. Hands down. And it extends to the socks. "I don't like the black ones!" Fabulous it is. Really.

And our friends arrived and then it was on. She brought two girls with her and the five kids just played.

And played.

And played.

And I put the bbq on and cooked up a frenzy.

Ribs. Lots of ribs. Holy. Moly. Amazing.

And some burgers, sausages and salads too.

There was a lot of food. A lot was leftover too.

Then a fruit break.

Then a cupcake and biscuit course, courtesy of my friend who just happens to be an absolutely amazing baker. Amazing I tell you. She made the rainbow mega layered cake for Miss 5's rainbow birthday on her 4th birthday. It was truly astounding. And the cakes she brought today. Well. I don't eat sweets as a general rule. But I tried one. It was a fluffy light little cupcake thing coated in coconut and then doused in passionfruit curd.

My. God. It was amazing.

So then we went outside as by that time the rain had subsided, and the kids ran feral in the backyard.

This went for a little while and then back inside to watch an episode of Play School while the adults had a much needed coffee.

Then the visitors departed after their lovely long visit, we did dinner, baths and washed hair and then read three or four books.

Miss 5 had brought home a level 10 book. She has varying level books. I'm not quite sure how it all works to be honest. But she loves to read, and is doing really well with it, albeit sometimes a little 'robotic', but I think that will improve with time.

Miss 4 also likes to read. And not just play along reading. She reads. So so well. She zipped through a level 3 book, reading with feeling and expression. And she read 10 of the 13 pages of the level 10 book before she had decided she had had enough.

Such a smart little cookie. And adores it. She is a veritable sponge for information. When she is challenged she is a dream. A true dream. When she is bored, well, act out here we come.

So yes. I try to keep her challenged.

And I had promised them that today we would do some gluing. Promised. And did not deliver because our visit ended up extending, which nobody was really sad about to be honest. But it did mean that gluing was not going to happen.

So I have promised (yes, I know, I never learn) that tomorrow we will do gluing. Straight after breakfast so as not to run out of time in the day.

We may even do some little scrapbooking thingies.

No matter what, tomorrow will be day o' craft. They love a bit of craft.

I don't mind craft.

At least it makes vacuuming sound effective.

X-rays.

Miss 5 had them. No visible break. Great. Truly. But that gut feeling inside me thinks something is not quite right. I'll let you know whether or not my gut is correct. 

Miss 4 asked if she had ever had x-rays. I said that yes, in fact she had. Quite a lot of x-rays. Not sure if I have told you before but Miss 4 has broken her arm and her leg. Left leg, right arm. 

Leg. Standing in the lounge room, turned, snap. 

Just. Like. That. 

Spiral fracture, cast to the hip. Fabulous. She was tough as guts though. I mean, she walked on the leg after it had broken. But through the course of the treatment she had numerous x-rays to check on its progress (and of course the initial diagnostics). 

Arm break. Fell off a sofa. Didn't complain about her arm, as she hit her head too. It was only that night I realised she wasn't moving the arm much. 

Many x-rays.

So Master 3 then asked if he had had any exercise. 

X-rays mini dude. X-rays.

When he was a mini tike Master 3 had terrible breathing issues; recurrent bronchiolitis, which subsequently morphed into asthma. Anyway, he had chest x-rays several times, which looked horrific mind you, and I have kept them. Just cos. 

Now Miss 5 stayed completely still while they took her x-rays yesterday. Completely. 

Compare that with Miss 4. Who was Miss 2 and Miss 3 at leg and arm x-ray time respectively. 

Power of an army. 

She had people holding her down to get her to stay still. It was awful. And so loud. So so loud. 

But it had to be done. And on both occasions the pictures spoke even louder than the screams emanating from my lil injured chicklet's body. 

You know it's funny though. Before any of your kids breaks anything you think how awful it would be to have a child break something. 

It is awful. It is. 

But to be honest it doesn't change as much as you would think. Yes, having the leg in plaster meant sponge baths for 6 weeks and gymnastics in order to wash hair, but apart from that, and the obvious lack of mobility, very little else changed (except of course the clothes she could wear). 

With the arm, again sponge baths and odd arrangements for hair washing, slightly more difficulty in dressing, but overall things were not too difficult. 

Kids are adaptable. Hugely enormously adaptable. 

Miss 5 was standing in front of the fridge tonight trying to put something on there with a fridge magnet. 

She took her time, used her right elbow to brace something while she used her hand to move the magnet around. 

And her left arm didn't even raise inadvertently. 

Now that my friends is one of those moments where mums get the pang, if a pang is there to be got. I got it. There is no way she has done nothing major to this arm. I just feel it. If it was just a strain or sprain or bad knock, she would at least try to use the injured arm in situations where using the other arm by itself is virtually hopeless, which this display was. 

Ah, who knows. I could be wrong. I hope I am wrong. But I really don't think I am. 

Master 3 was sick today. Well, he was and he wasn't. Last night he said he had a sore throat. I put it down to his vocal ways of commentating his life. 

This morning I went to drop him off at daycare and he repeated it, crying. Agh. Couldn't have said something before we got here? No apparently. 

So I couldn't leave him there. So I dropped everyone else off and then took him to the doctor. 

Lots. Of. People. All before us. Of course. 

And then I kicked myself for not bringing food. This is the problem with short notice doctor visits. I really should keep more food in the nappy bag. 

Anyway, Master 3 watched Peppa Pig on my (charged) phone until we were finally seen. 

At least he doesn't have another ear infection I guess. 

And to be fair, he did spend much of the day sleeping once we got home. I even managed a mini kip. Wherein I dreamt the police pulled me over and I woke up just before they told me why they pulled me over. 

And no, I could not get back to sleep. So I don't know what I did. Or didn't do. I like to think that dream police (singing the song now) were just wanting to tell me my tyre was a little flat. 

I take a lot of photos of the kids. Most of the time on the phone, because it is there, but sometimes also on my camera. 

Because I shake I find the camera better because the shutter speed is quicker and there is less likelihood that the picture will be blurry. 

So when I see a photo op, I prefer, if I can, to get the camera, not the phone. 

I will demonstrate the ways in which this may not be ideal. 

If your camera is not readily available then time will pass. Photo opportunities are notoriously quick. 

Answer? Keep camera handy 

Case point in question - today. Miss 4 and Master 3 sitting beside one another watching TV. Miss 4 has her arm around Master 3 and is leaning in to give him a kiss on the head. Gorgeous. 

Phone was right there. But no, I wanted to get a non-blurry photo because it wasn't very light and I knew it would be a longer exposure so camera was a better option. 

Unfortunately the camera was in the camera bag, so by the time I returned to the photo opportunity, beautiful loving siblings were replaced by "Mum, look, his head is on my bum" as he is lying on the ground and she is essentially sideways sitting on him, and of course there are guffaws of laughter. 

Yep. 

Tis that quick. 

But I do have some great photos. I really do. 

I got a good photo of all three kidlets looking at me this morning while we were at the dentist. 

Ah. The dentist. 

Perhaps a story for another time…..

Mother's guilt.

It happens. Often. In the strangest of circumstances.

Tonight I picked Miss 5 up from school. She needed help with her seatbelt. That was fine. And was clingy. Also fine. It happens.

She ate dinner, no problems, all good.

When I went to get her t-shirt off she screamed. Like instant, blood-curdling scream.

And it was 6.45pm.

Which meant taking all three kids, nearing bedtime, to a hospital where I knew the wait would be in the vicinity of three hours. Because that kind of scream usually means an x-ray is required.

And so I checked it was really sore and I hadn't knocked something.

And I went back and forth between thinking we should go and we shouldn't, until finally I thought we just had to.

I gave her a dose of Nurofen before we went because I didn't want her to be in pain. Idiot. Seriously. Idiot. Why the hell would I mask pain when she is going to go and see a doctor to ask where the pain was??

And that's where all hell broke loose. Because we got to the hospital. And the nurse looked at her and all of a sudden movement she didn't have at home she had. And the pain was mild rather than intense.

And so we waited.

And waited.

And another nurse saw her and started moving her arm around and Miss 5 said it didn't hurt. At all. And it was moving. And there was no tenderness. And no guarding. And no swelling. And no heat.

And I felt like a complete and utter tool. Because I thought that they would be looking at me thinking what an over-reacting silly mother I was.

And so I asked Miss 5 how she felt and if she wanted to just go home and see how it was in the morning, and she said yes.

So we went and saw them and told them that rather than wait hours longer to see the doctor we would go home and see how she felt in the morning.

And so then I felt guilty for dragging all the kids into the hospital when I didn't need to.

And so when we got home I was undressing her and she screamed. Like a blood-curdling scream.

And so I nearly cried, because we were there. We were AT the hospital. Had she just said she still hurt I would have sucked it up and stayed.

But she didn't.

And now we are here. Having wasted hours at the hospital to get no result. And we still have no answers.

And I feel hideously guilty for not having waited at the hospital longer.

And I have no wine.

And I just want to cry.

Not all days are good. I'd chuck this day in that basket.

If you are ever stuck….

on an idea for a gift…. then give a gift voucher to Movida.

Oh. My. God.

Seriously.

Absolutely. Amazing.

Last night my friend took me there as a belated birthday present because she was away on the evening of my 40th.

Thank you doesn't even come close to expressing what I felt in appreciation for that foodie experience.

The food we ate was truly astounding. And it is my new favourite place.

We then went for drinks at Crown and that was also great. Fabulous ambience, great live music, fab chats and laughs.

And then this morning I had a sleep in.

Yes. I have a child-free weekend. I know. I'm beside myself with glee.

And I had a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast which I DID NOT SHARE WITH ANYONE. And Yes I am yelling. Wouldn't you??

I got a lawnmower today. For free. I kid you not.

Freecycle. Look it up. It is a Yahoo group.

People post things they don't want anymore, and other people email if they need them.

Or you offer things up. Or say things you need.

A few examples to give you an idea.

The kids have a lot of books, and as they get older the books they read and look through change. So I would sort through the books (when the kids aren't there of course, if they were there I would never ever get rid of anything) and I put together a pile/bag of them and post a message on the group saying OFFER: Books and my suburb. And people email me to see if they can have them.

Now if, for example, my lawnmower breaks and I need a lawnmower, I then put WANTED: Lawnmower and my suburb and people are free to reply if they have one. Well, someone did. Brilliantly. So now I have a lawnmower, and I mowed my lawn today with it and it is fabulous.

I also had a find. On the way back from picking up the lawnmower I saw a large wooden unit on the side of the road with a "free" sign on it. Wow. Seriously. Free.

So I went home, took the lawnmower out of the boot and put it into the garage, then went back to see if the wood unit was still there.

It was.

Gold.

So I opened the boot, put the other seat down (there was one down for the lawnmower), then looked at the unit and tried to gauge whether it would fit.

I have come to the conclusion that I am spatially retarded. Because I literally have NO idea about the length and width of things. Nor their apparent weight so it would seem.

Because I got the unit off the nature strip and onto the road behind the car and then stopped. And looked at it. And looked at my car. And promptly burst out laughing saying to myself "Perhaps you may have been a little ambitious". Which I had been. Because firstly the unit looked a LOT bigger up close than it had speeding by, and secondly because, well, it wasn't going anywhere.

So I wondered what to do. So I stood there laughing. As you do.

And cars went past.

And more cars went past.

And a car reversed.

And the bloke driving asked if I needed help, to which I replied "Yes, I really do" and promptly burst out laughing.

He had his daughter with him, samaritan man, and as he got out of the car he told me that he said to his daughter as they drove past that it looked as though I really needed help.

So he helped me. He worked out what I needed to do with the inside of the car to make the unit fit, and then, after much toing and froing the unit was in the car with the door closed.

And he asked if I had someone to help me unload it at the other end, in response to which I laughed and said I hoped to rope in a neighbour. Wherein he offered to follow me and help me unload it.

Yes. I'm serious.

And he did. And he did.

And how lovely that there are people in this world like that.

And so I decided to do what I think is fitting in the circumstances, and I paid it forward.

I had a friend message me and ask me if I could help her with something. And to pay it forward I did.

And when she thanked me once it was done I just suggested the same. That she pay it forward. If something comes up and she can help, she should.

It is an amazing thing the pay it forward thing. Because it benefits everyone. The person who receives the help is so very very grateful, and the person giving the help is given such a feeling of warmth in their heart.

So today was not just accidentally fabulous. It was truly amazing.

And I got free KFC to boot.

What a great day.

Today was accidentally fabulous.

It started out no different from any other day.

I woke up to random child asking if it was too early to get up. It was. I told her. She said she was awake though. Fine. I'm staying in bed. With Miss 4. Again. Obvious late night addition to my room.

And then Master 3 running in asking if it is time for breakfast. No. It is not. Chill. I'm still in bed.

Anyway, I did get up eventually, put the kettle on, got the kidlets breakfast, made Miss 5's lunch, got everyone ready and we were out the door at 8.30am. No. We weren't. Miss 5 had to go to the toilet. Just as we were leaving. 8.35am.

So we get to school, drop Miss 5 off, and then it's the usual coffee and babycino run. But we shook it up today. We sat outside. Mistake. The outdoor heaters they used made it so hot as to be almost unbearable, so we left. Via the chocolate aisle where we bought white chocolate, then some condensed milk. I'll be making some fudge this weekend. As you do.

Then off to visit the helicopters. Again, as we do every Friday. We just so happened to see three of them sitting out on the tarmac. We even got massively excited as people started buzzing around one of them. But no joy. Waiting. Waiting. So we took a selfie. Holy crap. Best car selfie ever! Sensational!

And then something something we left there, went somewhere else, went home, up to school to give Miss 5 medicine, back home, something something, then off to assembly.

For the first time ever Master 3 fell asleep on my lap.

And it just so happened to be the same day that Miss 5 got an award. And I couldn't take a picture. Because Master 3 was asleep on me.

And so I did what anyone else in the same situation would have done. I tapped the bloke in front of me and asked him to take photos of "the girl with the pigtails in the middle". He did. And did a sterling job mind you, especially considering the room itself has the sun streaming through the windows behind so most photos I have ever taken in there end up with black shadows instead of people. Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't win awards, but it was far better than anything I could have done.

And because Miss 5 was so excited about the award and everyone was happy I thought bugger it we'll get fast food for tea. So she chose McDonalds. As children do.

And we got there. And saw one of the other prep mums and her kids.

And we sat down. And in walked another of the prep mums and her kids.

And she came over and told me that another of the prep mums was also coming.

And so what started out as a little fast food dinner turned into a fabulous prep mum catchup, with all the kids amusing each other, and enough 'other' children to avoid my three trying to kill each other. And instead of the 45 minutes or so we would have been there we ended up over an hour and half just sitting and chatting and it was absolutely fabulous.

When we got home I got all the kids into the bath and washed their hair. No tears.

I brushed the girls' hair. No tears.

I got everyone in their pyjamas. No complaints that they didn't want those pyjamas.

We read a few books. Nobody arced up.

And they went to bed, Master 3 came out only once, and everyone was asleep within 10 minutes.

Oh. My. God.

Talk about a sensational day.

And isn't it funny as parents how the definition of sensational has changed.

These days, the following things top my list of "great day occurrences".

A sleep in. Rare as hen's teeth, but they have been known to occur every now and then.

An evening with no fighting. Even more rare than the elusive sleep in, but again, it has been known to occur.

Camaraderie. Love. Joy. Playing. Watching the kids love being with one another. And being involved with that.

Having a child fall asleep on me, where I can gaze at them for as long as I want to without them telling me not to. I can feel their every breath. It is the closest I will ever get to having them a part of me again.

Watching my babies enjoy life and events. Today was amazing. Miss 5's face holding her award was pure joy reflected. Such pride in herself. A smile from here to eternity. And I was there to share in it. I was a part of it. She looked over at me dozens of times, beaming. And I was beaming too because I was just so proud. I didn't even hear what the award was for, that I found out afterwards, I was just so happy for her because I could see how happy she was. I never could have believed that someone else's happiness could be such a source of happiness for myself.

Memories are created accidentally. You can't fabricate a memory. You cannot force something to be a way it is not. Because it will always feel forced.

You can't make someone love you. But when they do you will know.

I know my babies love me. And I know they know I love them.

And we are making memories every single day.

And my heart has never been fuller.

Peppa Pig

has a lot to answer for.

Don't get me wrong, that 5 minutes and 10 seconds is virtually time gold for those who want to actually drink a coffee while it's hot, or have a moment's peace without a child hanging off them or repeating muuuum in a whiny tone and following up with nothing more than a cheeky grin before running away. And as a time filler while waiting for the doctor, there simply is nothing better.

Today it rained. Quite a bit. There were puddles.

Walking Miss 5 to school. She did it. She jumped in a puddle. In her school shoes and uniform.

So I asked her to please refrain from doing so.

She did it again. Straight after I asked her not to.

Yes. She did.

I blame Peppa Pig. That's the only explanation I have for my child not listening to me (yes, I know).

But realistically, I can't recall doing everything I was told as a child. In fact I took great pleasure in doing the opposite. On a fairly regular basis. Just to see what would happen. So in all reality I really have got off pretty bloody lightly. Though I do feel kinda bad for my mum.

Miss 5 is a bit deaf at the moment. Poor dear. Following on from the burst eardrum she seems to have a bit of dullness in the ole listeners. Given that she has had extended hearing loss in the past I am just hoping it is a temporary thing. So if she isn't hearing properly by this time next week I'll definitely be following it up.

It's hard to remember though. Sometimes it was even hard to remember when I actually KNEW she had hearing loss. But you do. You just do.

Calling out to her once, twice, thrice….nothing… and then the fourth time is tinged with a touch more "force" than the first three and she looks at you, wondering why you are almost yelling, when she hasn't done anything. And hadn't heard the first three. So then you feel like crap and beat yourself up for the next ten minutes.

Life is a bit odd like that. It allows us to emotionally berate ourselves. Some people do this more than others. Some may not do it at all. But I know of nobody that doesn't berate themselves at least a little. So perhaps it isn't nobody. Or very few people. Like 0.0000001 of a percent.

We need to control this though, because before we know it that berating begins to have a wearing effect on our self-confidence. It affects our mood. Our general being. The way in which we interact with people.

Just as a child who is constantly berated will rarely be as outgoing as a child who is allowed to be a child, receiving minimal chastisement, and only as necessary, say, for instance, when they attempt to perform amateur surgery using a toothpick and some dental floss.

It's a toughie. I know I am too hard on my kids. Because I am stressed a lot of the time because it is just me and sometimes it is just bloody hard to have to do everything for them, and work, and try to just do and be everything for everyone. Yes they help a little, but they are so little that there is only so much they can do.

I am making conscious efforts to stop. Take a breath. Calm down.

I am trying to put myself in their position. If I was them and I saw me and heard me, how would I be feeling?

And sometimes just doing that makes me feel like crap. So I mentally berate myself. Then I berate myself for berating myself.

So you see it is a bit of a thing that sometimes is not so easy to break as a one sentence 'advice' could suggest……

But I'll get there. So will they.

I tell my kids I love them a lot. An awful lot. So much so that the other day I said "I love you" and Miss 5 answered "I knooooow that, you tell us all the time!"

And I was rapt. And I told her I just wanted her, and the others, to know how very much they mean to me, and that even when I'm sad or angry or not happy for any reason, it never ever stops me loving them.

And they know that.

I love that they know that.

And I just love them.

To the moon and back.

A bazillion times infinity.

My feet are starting to hurt.

"Why?" I asked.

Miss 5 replied "Because I'm walking like a penguin."

Oh. Of course you are. How could I not realise that?

The other day we were literally just about to walk out the door when Master 3 dropped to the ground in the lounge room.

"What is it?" I said.

"My legs aren't working."

"Yes they are, up you get."

"No, they're really not, my legs, they're not working." *flails legs around whilst lying on the floor*

"We have to go. Now. Stop being silly and up you hop."

"But they're reeeeeally not working."

So over I go. Pick him up. Put him on his feet. Look at him. And say "Wow. There you go. They're working again. Off we go."

You really can never be prepared for what a child may say or do at any given moment in time.

Everything could be going along swimmingly, friends over, out to lunch, at the shops, at the museum, wherever, with whoever, in a perfectly normal setting and kids behaving "normally".

Until.

Until something.

Until something completely random. And/or inappropriate.

And it is usually at that point that you wish for a car to inadvertently crash through a building on the other side of the road, therein making everyone else look away so you can run, kids in tow, away from everyone.

Now I know you want examples. I will give you but a few, which as per usual I may have already shared, but then again I may not have. Lucky dip for you. For me, well, I obviously have no recollection of whether I have shared it or not so it's new for me no matter what. Bonus. Just like going out with friends and you behave in a manner which can be described as less than flattering to yourself, and potentially embarrassing to your friend, however if you have no memory of said occasion then seriously, well, tis no skin off your nose then is it….

So on many occasions we have been places and the kids have piped up with a question. Directed at me. About someone else. Who is standing right there. "What's he doing?" "It's a she." "But he has short hair and a beard." "It's a she." *runs*

And the ever famous "He's got texta all over him."

I think now Master 3 knows what tattoos are.

I really love it when we are leaving a store, after paying, and Miss 4 yells out "But mum, you haven't PAID for these things yet." I love it. I really do. Truly.

I also love it when I swing a DVD case whilst talking as I am an arm talker and I inadvertently knock Master 3's fingers which makes him cry, I instantly hug him and apologise and just keep squishing him tight because I feel so bad, and for the next three days he keeps saying "You hit me with the 'tainer." Love it. No. Really.

God only knows what these kids say at school and daycare. Truly. I'll have DOCS rocking up on my doorstep for poking needles into their ears. Or cleaning them. Whichever you think is the more appropriate description.

I do love a kid's perspective on the world though. I really do.

I love how everything can be made better with a hug.

I love how even the mention of dessert sends smiles a thousand times wider.

I love how the thought of a trip to the park makes eyebrows raise.

I love how the actual visit to the park is not always a way in which I, as parent, am tortured. The good trips, well, I could relive those a million times over. And they are becoming more and more common, those good trips, as the kids get that bit older.

And you know what? They are good kids. They really are just good kids.

I have done my best to raise them with morals and values and good manners. And you know what? Time for a pat on the back. I'm doing a bloody good job.

So there you go.

I might just leave it there I think.

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Nobody tells you this stuff.

The sickness stuff I mean. And the emo stuff. And the general "you'll know when you're a parent" stuff.

There is a lot of stuff that people simply don't tell you about being a parent. Why? I reckon because nobody told them and why the hell should you have an advantage. That's my theory anyway.

Before I was a parent I loved staying up late and would often get very little sleep. Let me tell you, it is far less fun when someone else is in control of the amount of sleep you get.

There are diseases. Lots of them. And disgusting things. Lots of them. That kids are exposed to and get.

Hand, foot and mouth disease. It truly sounds like something reserved for livestock. Nope. Kids get it. And it means they are off school and daycare for a fair schwack of time too.

Head lice. I have not yet encountered this (touch wood… repeatedly) but seriously. Oh geez. Just the thought of it makes me retch.

Ear infections. Sounds like nothing serious. Ba bow. Wrong. Tis everything serious. Aside from the whole eardrum bursting thing as previously stated, there are other things. Master 3 has had 3 ear infections in the last 6 weeks. He is to be checked at the same time Miss 5 is checked in a few weeks. If he has ANOTHER ear infection then things get ramped up. They have these things called grommets. They insert things into the kids' ears. Does wonders apparently. Particularly for those kids who get recurrent ear infections.

Kids break stuff. It happens. Although this one was actually easier than I had anticipated. Yes, there is the initial heartbreak and pain living through your child kind of pain when they initially hurt themselves, but realistically, all it does is change the way you do things, and add a few appointments to your schedule. And a story to your kids' upbringing.

Chickenpox. Yep.

Bandaids. The value of bandaids. They are absolute gold. Particularly the ones with pretty disney pictures on them. They could have a compound fracture, but cover it in a mickey mouse bandaid and all will be forgotten. Ripped an entire nail off? No matter! Cars brand bandaids are here to make it all better.

Have many varieties. Trust me. It is worth it.

Before you are a parent you say you won't do things and you will do things.

I was never going to bribe my kids with food.

Um. Yeah. Nah. Sorry. It works. I'm doing it.

I was always going to put them straight back into their bed if they came into bed with me.

Um. Yeah. Nah. Sorry. It's 3am. I'm tired. I'm not moving. Get in here and go to sleep. I'll move you in the morning.

I was never going to let TV be their babysitter.

Um. Yeah. Nah. Sorry. I have had the grand total of 2  hours sleep because various children did various things at various points throughout the night. If I don't get at least one uninterrupted cup of coffee it will end badly. For everyone.

I was going to do so much and was not going to do so much and as life throws you things you change. Because you have to.

I never could have possibly believed how many times I would tell my kids I love them in a day.

And I do. Repeatedly. Even on bad days.

Because they are my everything.

And they may answer with "I knoooooow mum, you told us already". But I just have to. Because even the thought of them brings my soul to life. I just want them to know how very loved they are.

And here's the thing. They do.

And yes I'm having an emo day. Because I took Miss 5 to school this morning and she was fine. Literally truly fine. Until I left the room. And then she became inconsolable. Because she didn't want to miss me.

And that was fine and she was nearly calmed down after I hugged her for ages, until the other teacher came in the room not knowing the 'history' and tried to prise her from me. And it went downhill from there.

And you know sometimes things happen for a reason. I was able to spend a wonderful day, one on one, with my baby girl.

And I wouldn't change that for the world.

We didn't do anything monumental. She came to work with me for a few hours (I just had to get a few things done today, no matter what). Then we went to the bakery for morning tea. Then we went to a christmas decoration shop, we had fish and chips for lunch, and I watched her at her tennis lesson (yes, she was "well" enough to do tennis…..).

And what a fabulous day it was. And realistically all because her teacher came in at the wrong time.

And I am so glad she did.

So so glad.

Love. My. Babies.

Pop goes the eardrum.

Last night sucked.

I was thinking of ways in which I could adequately express the night such that others who were not present could understand, and that's all I got. Granted, I got very little sleep last night, for various reasons.

I may have mentioned that my childrens' sleep habits are such that a sleep scientist would be in 7th heaven.

All the kids sleepwalk.

All the kids sleeptalk.

Miss 5 had night terrors from age 10 months until she had her tonsils and adenoids removed at age 4.

Master 3 still has night terrors, which started about 14 months ago.

They all have incredibly vivid dreams.

And life, as I believe I may have previously mentioned, is never dull.

So last night I hear Miss 5 starting to have a chat in a less than happy manner. I pop in there and she informs me, whilst asleep, that Master 3 was flying up into space, and she was not terribly happy about this. I reassured her that he was safe and all was good in the world and she went back to sleep.

I neglected to mention that when I went in to investigate Miss 5's vocal outburst I was confronted by Miss 4 sitting bolt upright in bed with her eyes open. Before I settled Miss 5 I gently lowered Miss 4 back on to her pillow and popped her doona back on.

As I said. Never dull.

Anyway, cutting to the chase, some time in the late evening the cries of "ow" commenced. Not just "ow". But "ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow". While she was asleep. But writhing as though she was being electrocuted. Still asleep.

So I stayed with her. And every time she started writhing I gently soothed her and every time she said "ow" I asked her where it hurt.

Eventually she woke herself up and promptly burst into tears. I asked her again where it hurt and she said her ear. So I got some Panadol and gave it to her and then sat with her some more.

Panadol didn't help. So some time later out came the Nurofen.

Nurofen didn't work. So then I had to wait another few hours before I could up the ante and hit her with the Pain Stop. Why not sooner? Because you can't use it with other paracetamol products.

Note to self: When child wakes up visibly distressed, give Nurofen first. That way if pain does not settle you can then go to the Pain Stop without having to wait it out.

Shan't forget that one.

Long story short I put her in bed with me so I could be right there and doze occasionally too.

Her sleep apnoea returned for the first time since her tonsils were removed.

And she was hot. Oh so hot. And the drugs weren't doing squat.

Early in the morning she seemed to calm, and fell asleep for some time. During this time I got the others all ready, and she then woke up, had two bites of food and realised she didn't want food, and then we headed to the doctor.

As we got there I looked at the million people and sighed. But I was prepared this time. I had packed four rounds of sandwiches, water bottles for everyone, 2 muesli bars each and a box of shapes. Emergency food.

As we were waiting a woman who was obviously in some sort of distress came in and ignored the line and waltzed up to the front counter. As I was next, the receptionist asked what I needed, and I deferred to Mrs Upset. I figured it would be easier for all concerned if she was looked after because, well, she seemed pretty upset.

So then we got seen to, I told her I couldn't keep Miss 5's temperature down, she was complaining of intense ear pain and we needed to see someone.

Straight to the nurse. 38.4 after Panadol and still not able to give Nurofen yet.

She rings doctor and we get straight in there. As he looks at her ears he tells me the eardrum has already ruptured.

Want to hear the ironic thing? After much putting off for various different reasons, we finally started swimming lessons. Yesterday. And now she can't swim for 3 weeks. You couldn't have scripted that if you tried.

Anyway, all's good, she has drugs, we had a quiet day at home, did some pasting, chilled in front of the idiot box.

My brain is incapable of comprehensive thought right now. I was amazed I remembered to brush the kids' teeth tonight, that's how foggy I feel. And yet I'm still up. Because I went to do an update on my phone and it wouldn't let me. Because there isn't enough space left on my phone. Which I have had for about 6 months. Full. Of photos. And useless apps.

So I began a delete-a-thon.

You know I take photos of such rubbish. Like stuff that if I saw someone else take a photo of I would think they were off their head. That kind of stuff.

I took a photo of a chicken. Because it was across the road. And I just thought that was hilarious. Because I wondered why it had crossed the road. And I reckon I laughed for a good 10 minutes. But I didn't just take one photo. I took 10. Of the chicken. I have no idea why.

Oh actually yes I do. I kinda shake. So it is hard to get a good photo. So for every 10 I take there is usually one good one. THAT is why there were 10 chicken shots.

So there were also copious amounts of food shots. There were a few shots of carpet where I had inadvertently hit the button. There were a few pictures of dental treatment that the kids had obviously saved from a little game they have on the iPhone.

There was a really disturbing picture that one of the kids had drawn that I don't even want to think about describing, suffice to say I don't think it was meant to be an anatomically correct blue thing but it just turned out that way.

A lot of food pictures. A lot of pork pictures actually. Specifically roast pork belly. Crispy skinned. *drool*. Amazing. I can smell it and taste it and hear the crackling being broken as I look at the pictures. Mmmmm.

Now I want pork.

And there are other random photos too. Some actually pretty cool. The reading room at the state library. Amazing.

An arty farty shot of Flinders Street station.

And several photos of the enormous amount of caffeine I ingest some mornings, with a long black backed up by a Coke and a Red Bull.

Anyway, I'm working on getting through them. So in the last however long I have deleted 1000 photos. Go me.

But what is there left, seriously. It truly could be anything. It's like that mystery cupboard at home. Where you just chuck random stuff. And then years later you go through and it's like "Oh wow, there is my 1988 bicentennial commemorative $5 coin! And you think I wonder how much that's worth now being that it is way old and a collector's item and so you go on ebay and discover it is worth $5.

Gold.

Love it.

You do make the odd random discovery though, in that mystery cupboard. I found some drawings Miss 5 had done as a wee one. Brought a bit of a tear to the eye to look at them actually. And a few little random photos in there too. I also came across stuff that I have no recollection of and wonder just how it got there.

Anyway, I digress, once again.

I'm hoping tonight is far less 'lively' than last night and I can perhaps gain a little shut eye in preparation for what is now my three day a week working week (yes, got put up a day last week).

I even was organised enough to make my lunch for tomorrow. Stir fry veg in oyster sauce. Mmmm. Sensational.

Not organised enough to remember to iron Miss 5's uniform or my work clothes though…. guess I'll be up for a bit longer then…...

Puddles.

They happen when it rains. Funny that.

There is a magnetism. Puddles. Children. Puddles. Children.

This force is apparently stronger in boys than in girls, though present in both without a doubt.

Today it rained. Funnily enough that resulted in puddles.

Today was an assembly day, which meant we walked from the car to school, then once assembly was finished, we all waited together outside Miss 5's classroom.

There were puddles.

Some of these puddles could have actually been considered lakes. Well, more than just a puddle anyway. Enough to completely soak a shoe or two and half a pant leg at the very least.

And yes, it happened. To us and many others.

I blame Peppa Pig.

She loves to jump in muddy puddles.

But it's hard. Because Peppa Pig is fabulous. It is 5 minutes and 10 seconds (or thereabouts) that I am freely able to do anything. At all. Because as soon as the music comes on I hear "PEPPA PIG!!!" screamed from all ends of the house and children come running.

The tv is on much of the time when we are home. Not watched all of that time, but on quite a bit. Because of the Peppa Pig phenomenon. They just. Come. Running.

And then it is my time. I have 5 clear minutes to do whatever the hell I want.

Sometimes I go to the fridge and get my favourite foods out, if they are there. And I eat them and I don't share.

Sometimes I drink a coffee while it is hot.

Sometimes I Facebook stalk someone who I have randomly thought of.

Sometimes I go on eBay to see if any Peppa Pig cartoon DVDs are cheap.

Sometimes I catch up on the news.

Sometimes I send an email.

Sometimes I cull the photos on my phone (it is obscene the number of photos on my phone).

Sometimes I watch Peppa Pig too. Sue me.

Today the two minis and I had a mission. Knickers, stickers and shoes.

Knickers for Miss 4. She may be 4 but a 4-6 she is not. So sorted that one out, all good.

Stickers. For the rewards chart. Any time they do something that is something special, be it sharing something special with one of the others, or actively doing something they are not asked to do, or similar, they get a sticker. Once they get 10, they get a lucky dip. I haven't made those up yet but it'll be things they love - stuff to put on their bags, or stickers, or little things like that.

And shoes. Master 3 has no summer shoes. I realised this the other day when it was hot and I tried to put his Thomas sandal things on him and ba bow. No joy. Too small. So he chose dinosaur light up green sandal things. And there you go. Problem solved.

I had also promised the kids a DVD as we haven't bought a new DVD for ages. And Despicable Me 2 was on sale. So what could we do but get it?!

We did.

And then when we got home, it was a fruit salad dinner, followed by a salad dinner (logic, go figure) and then I made some home popped popcorn, all the kids were in pjs and we set up and watched the movie.

By watched I mean I watched, Miss 4 fell asleep, Miss 5 constantly asked if she could have any more popcorn and Master 3 repeated that he was tired, wherein I asked repeatedly if he wanted to go to bed, in response to which he replied no, over and over, sat on my lap yawning and nestling in and then waking up and then repeating, and no it wasn't late it was before 7pm.

So after the film finished, which I loved by the way, I took asleep Miss 4 to the loo (thank goodness I did too just quietly), then Miss 5 and Master 3 did the teeth, toilet bed thing and there you have it.

Easy. Peasy.

Ha. Yep. Well, yes. Tonight was actually.

Tomorrow we are going swimming. So it seems. Swimming trial.

I don't swim.

I never wanted to take the kids to swimming lessons. That was someone else's job, a job on which they reneged.

So now it is left to me. And it has taken me this long to build up the courage to do it.

But I'm doing it.

So wish me luck.

Deep. Breath.

I can do it.

It never lasts.

Running early I mean. And I don't mean over the space of days, I mean in a day.

Today we were ready to head out the door at 8.11am. Everyone was dressed, hair was done, lunch was made for Miss 5, reader folder in bag, I had all my stuff organised.

And then I did it. I asked.

"Does anyone need to go to the toilet?"

Why. Did. I. Ask.

So Miss 5 heads in to the toilet. And decides that she might stay there for a bit. As she does.

And so at 8.21am we were all ready to head out the door.

Miss 4 "But I need to go too!!!"

O. K. Then.

So Miss 5 decides to keep Miss 4 company, and I hear mumble mumble mumble before Miss 4 all but yells "What do you think it is? A ham sandwich?"

It was at that point I nearly choked and fell to the floor with laughter. And Miss 4 heard this and promptly chastised me for laughing at her.

At times like this I actually appreciate the fact that Master 3 is still in a nappy. He'll toilet train soon, but to be honest if he isn't ready he isn't going to get it so quickly so I would rather wait till he is ready and then go.

And so finally at 8.28am we all headed out the door.

The obligatory "I wanted to get into the car first" ensued, followed by the "But I wanted you to do my seatbelt up first."

Guys. It doesn't make any difference. At all. To anything. Seriously.

So we get to the little ones' school, and Master 3 still doesn't like his new room, even though they have massively cool toys in there. I mean I would play in there. All day. And love it. I think he just isn't trying to be honest. That's probably a little harsh. He did get moved for a short while and then have to move again and I think he just felt a little geographically challenged. He never takes long to settle after I leave and always greets me with open arms when I pick him up. I'm not concerned he isn't having a great day, but I do so hate dropping him off crying, blowing countless kisses to him and repeating "I love you baby" over and over until I am out of sight.

Sigh. Breaks my heart.

And then drop Miss 4 off and have 7 or 8 goes at leaving, because always another kiss and another hug…..

So we get to Miss 5's school.

Walking across the playground I turn to her and say "Did you put your water bottle back into your bag?"

Silence.

Oh. Dear.

So I say that just for today I'm sure it would be okay if she just used the water taps outside the prep room. Miss 5 wasn't rapt in that suggestion but accepted it.

And just as we are about to walk into her classroom she says it. "My hat!"

Crap.

Now I had to go home. No hat no play. And with a 28 degree forecast I'm tipping they would be fairly strict on that.

So I figured I would grab her water bottle while I was there, and while I was at it I decided to change my shirt because it just didn't feel right.

I get back to school and can't get a parking spot. Of course I can't. It is peak drop off time.

Finally get a park around the corner, get to Miss 5's room and she is nowhere to be found.

She is in the toilet. Again. Seriously. This child has a bladder the size of a pea. And yes I have had her checked at the doctor, and no there is nothing wrong, she just doesn't like feeling even in the slightest that she needs to pee.

And so I eventually made it to work.

And work was flat out. I mean flat out. I had to do everything because we were a person down (the person who answers all the calls and drop ins) and today we had a LOT of calls. A lot. And I was trying to arrange a settlement at the same time. For tomorrow.

Suffice to say the day flew. But I made it through it. I even managed to duck to the supermarket at lunchtime to get bread for tomorrow's sandwiches.

Once we all got home I realised I couldn't be bothered cooking and decided that I would opt for the sandwich dinner that is a working mother's dream because it requires so little effort and is done and dusted within minutes.

And as you know my kids eat a lot. And then the loaf of bread was gone. Oops. Crap. Miss 5's lunch. Just enough bread to make one little sandwich.

Our dinner time is never dull. Even if I wish it would be sometimes. We often get the "Look at my eyes! Look at them!" Eyes dart back and forth and eyebrows are raised, intense looks of concentration accompanying the movements. And the challenge is apparently on as Master 3 yells "Mine can go faster!! Look!!!" wherein all that happens is his head moves around ridiculously.

I made Master 3's night tonight because he got to wear his summer pjs. He loves them. Cars. Anything Cars he loves. And would gladly wear those pjs even if it was minus 5 degrees. So he is beside himself tonight. So much so that he didn't actually want to go to sleep. Fabulous. Funnily enough nor did the girls. Tis a fairly warm night though.

There were many things I had to say, none of which I can remember. Perhaps I should write them down. I write down all my appointments in my phone calendar. Would be lost without that. And have taken to writing things that I categorically need to remember in draft emails. Or if I remember I have it, the notes part on my phone. But I often don't remember. So email draft it is.

And on that note I have just realised that there are several (read: numerous) emails to which I must reply.

I had fully intended to. And then lots of shopping emails came through and kept pushing these emails further and further down, and before you know it they were gone. Out of sight out of mind. Until I deleted the shopping and other randomly nothing emails. And voila. Instant guilt trip. Right there.

So I'm off to deguilt by way of electronic communication.

A la prochaine.

There is no such thing as time.

There is no other explanation.

I will tell you why, by way of demonstrating the way in which time can not possibly exist in the way we have been led to believe.

When I have a kid-free day there is no way it goes for 8 hours. None. It literally just starts, I blink and they'll be back in half an hour.

When it is half an hour before normal bedtime, what ensues from this point can only be seen to smash the concept of time. Because it goes for an eternity. A veritable eternity.

When your child is on a piece of play equipment, and you see them lose grip with one arm, time slows such that every pressure wave in the air is almost visible, as you watch, helpless, as you see your child fall, in slow motion.

When your child picks up a Thomas the tank engine toy times accelerates such that you don't even see said Thomas propelled through the air, target being sister's head.

When a child comes into your bed at 4 in the morning, the time it takes for the alarm to go off is months. Surely.

The time it takes children to fall asleep at night. It seems like hours. Often it isn't.

Night terrors. These bastardly things pull time like an elastic band, to the point right before it is about to break. That time is as tense as said elastic band, and feels like forever.

A night out. A rare night out. Without kidlets. Fabulous and wonderful. Gone in a flash.

I had three children home with chickenpox. For a week. Technically. I swear every day was at least 70 or 80 hours.

I think I had a point. I truly have no idea what that point was.

Anyway, it was Melbourne Cup Day today so all the kids were home. At 10am I told them we'd go to the park.

10am.

We left at 1.30pm.

It took us 3 and a half hours to get out the door.

3 and a half hours. And I kid you not it felt like 17.

And we were at the park. And that was nice. Nice. Great word. Sort of. But so non-expressive. So bland. You may as well say "lovely".

The park was great because it had 4 swings. Do you know how many parks only have 2? Basically nearly every park.

I have 3 children.

2 swings.

3 children.

I know. I don't have to spell it out. But seriously. Don't councils realise that 2 swings just doesn't cut it??

YES. This council apparently does. 2 'do up' swings, 2 older kiddie swings. Fab.

And heaps of climbing stuff.

And best part? 2/3 of the park was in shade at 1.30pm. That is gold. Miss 4 burns if she even steps foot into a sunny room. The other two not near as bad, but Miss 4 is terribly sensitive to the sun.

So pop that one on the 'we'll go there again' list.

We watched the race. I put on my yearly bet. And I bet on 2nd and 4th. And I did it in some way that I really didn't get much back. I don't know how. I'm not really meant to be a punter I don't think. That's fine by me. The kids watched the race, and Master 3 was rapt his horse came in second (being that he is 3 he goes for number 3….and the others the same… 4 and 5 respectively).

And I am actually looking forward to work tomorrow. Not for any reason other than this week is my first week working 3 days a week…. and it was a 2 day week… which I find absolutely hilarious.

Wonder if I'll be more tired having worked that extra day……hehe.

Having the kids all home is no picnic though….. but I got lots of cuddles so it made up for tantrums.

Oh and I finally killed my mower. Completely. I got it cleaned and managed to get it started, albeit with a bit of smoke.

I mowed a third of my lawn, filling the air with a very very thick cloud of white smoke, and regularly I would say out loud "please don't stop". Till the bastard ignored me and stopped. And then I couldn't even pull the cord anymore. And there is oil everywhere.

Oops.

I'm so not made for manual labour.

A dragon ate my shoe.

When this is what comes out of the mouth of your 3 year old as he stands beside your bed with tears in his eyes at 4.30 in the morning, you pull back the covers and let him in.

He went back to sleep straight away.

I thought about the dragon for a bit and then fell asleep again too.

And in the morning once everyone was up I asked him about it.

"Did a dragon eat your shoe?"

"Yes. It did."

"What colour was it?"

"Lello."

*Look of intense sadness in the eyes*

"And then the dragon dropped my shoe and picked it up again so it could eat it again."

That was where I pretended I dropped something so he didn't see my smile and laughing…. Seriously, just so adorable. Right down to the lello. Which I didn't correct because, well, it was just super cute and I correct him every other time and seriously just get off my case already!!!

Breathe.

Today was a great day at work. A really great day.

I love those days. They make the day fly. They make the feeling happy and joyous.

I feel days in a colour spectrum. Grey days are as they sound. Black days you just don't want to ever have. But then there are the other colours. Red days could but don't necessarily signify anger or danger but vibrancy and energy. Green days could but don't necessarily portray calm and peacefulness but perhaps nature and connection with the environment. Yellow could but doesn't necessarily indicate warmth, but happiness and lightness of soul.

You get the picture.

Today I would classify as a distinctly holographic day.

And yes, that counts. A myriad of colours, changing with the most minute of movements. Going from a joyous happy yellow to a hopeful vivid blue to a contented mint green to a happy fuchsia.

Today was a good day.

And tonight at the dinner table made me smile. Again. As it often does.

Master 3 once again. He was on fire today. Not literally obviously.

So at the dinner table. "What's in my bottom?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What's in my bottom? In my nappy…. come on……"

Miss 5 guesses "Is it a poo?"

Master 3 laughs and says "Nooooooo!!!"

Miss 4 guesses "Is it a wee?"

Master 3 nods and laughs hysterically and says "YES!!!" with food spitting out of his mouth.

What a great game. No. Really.

Tomorrow is Cup Day holiday. We have no plans. We will do something. I just don't know what.

I'm thinking there'll be some park action. There may even be a little drive. I think we may try to catch up with some friends though. Not sure which friends. Some friends. I adore spending time with the kids, I really do, sometimes I hate it though I must be honest, like when they throw stuff at each other and whinge and carry on and "she bit me" and "he hit me" and "I feel sick" with no good reason kind of thing.

I don't want to go a long way. I want to stay fairly close to home. And not go anywhere near the racetrack because there'll be cars everywhere. And no. I don't mean I would contemplate taking the kids there. I mean we live not so far from the race track so I intend to stay away from that geographical area. Sheesh. Can't say anything.

So yes. I have no plans. We have no plans.

Yet.

They'll come. I know they will.

Oh, but I am wrong, sorry, I just realised.

We are playing Mike the Knight treasure hunt game in the morning. It is already set up and ready to go.

Oh, and we are painting. I finally caved.

Oh, and we are baking too.

Oh, and I have to mow the lawn too.

Actually the day is looking pretty busy….. might have to reschedule that catch up…. oh, no, it's ok, I never scheduled it in the first place…. I just thought about it.

Bonus.

And that my friends is why talking to oneself is not frowned upon but advisable.

Problems are solved before they even arise.

And you're welcome.

Hehe.

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I go through phases

where sometimes I have heaps to say and other times not so much.

Has been one of the latter these last few days.

It isn't that there has been nothing to say. Not at all. Quite the contrary in fact. But sometimes I guess that love of all things quiet extends to "talking it out" by means of this blogly avenue.

So in that regard I had a quiet few days. And then I started to get antsy and need to talk about stuff and so I'm back.

Halloween aftermath has been insane. So. Much. Candy. But the kids have been incredibly restrained. There have been only a few stealth incidents of sly candy munching, discovered purely by accident due to the inadvertent minute morsel of whatever said candy was deftly flying onto a t-shirt or pyjama cuff. Or eyebrow. Yes. I know. Eyebrow.

And as soon as it was discovered there was an instant apology and I think that's pretty cool. So all was forgiven.

We've had a busy few days. Today we went and did a rellie visit which was quite possibly the best rellie visit we have had in a while, save for the odd weather. It was just relaxed which is the best way to be methinks. Too often too much emphasis is placed on the what and where and how and why and who and too little on the letting it be and enjoying it. I also managed to grab some sensational and natural pics, which for me is a huge thing as I adore those type of photos. When you look back at them you don't just think "Oh that is my baby at x age" you are physically transported back - you can hear their laughs, feel their joy and re-experience the entire moment. Those are the pictures that mean the world. Because they are an actual capture of the spirit, not just the locale and participants.

Lil man ate an adult's serve meal today. In entirety. His appetite certainly has grown.

Miss 4 is getting her 6 year old molars. I guess she is pretty advanced so I shouldn't be surprised. I didn't even think of it to be honest, until my sister in law saw that she was clingy and a little out of sorts and suggested that perhaps she may be getting the molars.

Cue bad mother moment feeling. Didn't even think of it.

Worse bad mother moment feeling? When my sister, after taking both girls over to the shops with her, got them each 2 fabulous pairs of shoes, and let me know that they were both in the wrong size. And it was a big difference. Ba bow. Mummy mega fail.

So on the way back home I had a good hour in the car to mentally berate myself, as mothers do. Then just as the hour was coming to a close the mental berating also came to a close because when you think about it, what does it achieve? Does it change what has been? No. Does it make you feel any better? Hell no. So why do we do it? Have a moment. Move on. That's my theory from here on in.

I have mentioned before about when children get words slightly wrong.

One such word created a veritable tornado in my mind when Master 3 mentioned that there was a frog in Miss 4's backside.

Um. I beg your pardon?

"There's a frog in her backside."

This I had to hear.

"Why does she have a frog in her backside?"

"To take to school for show and tell."

Ok.

"Do you mean backpack?"

"Yes, backpack!"

Other times you realise just how much attention the kids pay to the things you say.

Miss 4 was sitting on the floor and had a pipe cleaner bracelet in her hand.

"I'm going to put this on but I'm not going to put it on to tight because if I do I'll cut off my circulation."

Well done mini chick. You're exactly right. But wow.

I am truly constantly amazed at the things these little folks say, and do.

Today in the car Miss 5 asked me why I made them.

I said to her that I had so much love in my heart to give that I just had to make them so that I could give them all that love.

And Miss 4 adds "And hugs"

And Miss 5 adds "And kisses"

And Master 3 adds "Yeah!!! And hugs!"

And it is moments like these, in the moments I realise just how very much I love these little humans, that I do get a little bit emo. I get a bit of a tear in my eye. Same as when I'm watching Tangled and I realise that the princess's real mother and father lost their child for so very many years, and I think how I just couldn't cope if that happened to me. I don't think that was the point the cartoon was trying to make but still. I love my kids. And they love me.

Miss 5 sat on my lap tonight and gave me a cuddle and said "I just don't want to ever ever let you go."

And I don't want her to either. I don't want any of them to. But I do. Because I want them to experience anything and everything. I want them to feel ultimate joy and happiness, and much as I don't want them to experience pain and sadness, I know that they will but I just hope that they know that they can come to me in any circumstances and I will be there for them, always.

I know. They are 5, 4 and 3. It is hardly something to worry about.

And I'm not. But I am thinking about it. Because the past 5 years have flown. And before I know it they will be independent beings, controlling their own destinies.

I think I'm getting a bit deep tonight. It happens sometimes.

Sometimes you really just have to stop. Collaborate. And listen.

And just like that you are now singing Vanilla Ice. Or not. If you are me you are. Pretty catchy beat....

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