Do you eat lamb?

This was the first of a series of questions in a conversation I had with Miss 5 this evening, some of which I will share with you, as best as I can remember.

Miss 5: "Do you eat lamb?"

Me: "Yes baby I do."

Miss 5: "What about baby lambs?"

Me: "Yes baby."

Miss 5: "Where do baby lambs come from?"

Me: "From sheep."

Miss 5: "So baby lambs are baby lambs?"

Me: "Yes."

Miss 5: "So do you eat any creatures?"

Me: "Yes baby."

Miss 5: "We can't eat creatures."

Me: "Yes we can baby!"

Miss 5: "Noooo."

Me: "Yes baby." At this point I am terrified I am just about to create a vegetarian.

Miss 5: "What about chicken?"

Me: "What about chicken?"

Miss 5: "What is chicken?"

Me: "Chicken is chicken."

Miss 5: "Yes, but what is chicken made of."

Me: "Chicken is made of chicken baby. You know, *makes chicken sound and mock flaps wings*."

Miss 5: "What..... do you mean food chicken is made out of animal chicken?"

Me: "Yes. Chicken we eat is chicken animal chicken." I know. Yes. Well. She understood it.

Miss 5: "So what you're saying is.... GUYS!!! YOU KNOW WHAT MUMMY SAYS? SHE SAYS THAT FOOD CHICKEN IS MADE FROM ANIMAL CHICKEN!!!!!!!!!"

I was quite thankful to hear a scream then. Well, I wasn't, because I thought it may have been due to the realisation that they had been eating chicken little, but thankfully it was due to Master 3 shoving his foot into the side of Miss 4's head. Oh yes. Thankfully. Minor damage done. The creation of vegetarians in my house however would have been horrific.

We did somersaults tonight. Well, Miss 5 started. She has been doing gym at school and wanted to show everyone what she had learned. And then king coordination Master 3 picked it up just like that so they were tumbling and rolling like nobody's business.

Miss 4 wasn't quite so sure. She didn't want to do it. So I asked her if she would like me to do it first to show her how.

She said yes.

I can't believe she said yes.

I also can't remember the last time I did a somersault.

So I watched Miss 5, then I watched Master 3 and I thought yes, I can do this.

I stood behind her little sofa, which was all stretched out, put my head on the ground, then flipped myself over. I did it. And my god I am soft because it gave me a little fright. BUT it allowed Miss 4 to see that it was not a bad thing to do.

So I spent the next few minutes guiding her on how to put her head on the ground without smashing herself in the forehead, as her first instinct was to essentially faceplant the ground, and then to flip herself over.

She did it. And wasn't she proud. So I gave her massive cuddles and encouraged her to do it again. And pretty soon hers were the smoothest of all. Way to go mini chick :)

Bedtime tonight was crap. There is no other word to describe it.

It was so bad that I folded all the washing. And there was a lot of it.

Why did I do this? I was trying to prove a point. The kids weren't listening to me, so I folded washing and didn't listen to them. They didn't really like it that much. And it didn't settle them at all. But at least I got the washing folded.

And finally all the kids dragged their somersaulted little tooshes to bed.

And I found something else out tonight. Standing on a Thomas train is almost as painful as standing on a Lego.

So there you go. Learn something new every day.....

Frozen peas

are hugely popular in our house. Not for eating. Oh no. For icing.

Frozen peas make an amazing ice pack. And in this house ice packs are necessary. Most days. If a head collides with something and the tears flow, interspersed in the cries and tear-filled renditions of what actually happened is quite often "I want peas". Actually to any outsider that may seem strange. Small child hurts himself and requests vegetables. Interesting....

Tonight I made gnocchi. Twice. I inadvertently froze a packet of gnocchi, and I don't think it was quite thawed by the time I put it into the boiling water, and so I thought I would leave it an extra couple of minutes. Bad idea. Unless you enjoy potato sludge, but I know of very few people, actually none, who do, or would for that matter. I didn't even give it to my dog it was that bad.

So take two, mini gnocchi. Worked just fine. Here's an idea; let's use a pasta sauce we've never tried before.

Really. Seriously.

Idiot.

So then I couldn't be bothered anymore and made some Mi Goreng noodles, which, for those of you who don't know, are the most amazing 2 minute noodles in the world. Unless you bought the brand I used tonight, which again, I had never tried. What. The hell. Is wrong with me? Seriously.

Anyone familiar with 2 minute type noodles knows they are cooked by immersing them in boiling water for several minutes. Two if you believe the name. I don't. And I cook more than one packet at a time. So I make mine in my fabulous Tupperware stack cooker (hideously expensive but fabulously useful and thus one is able to see everything through the side of it, albeit tinged red by the colour of the cooker itself) and cook them for around 6 minutes. 3 packs. Perfecto. Actually, that works out to two minutes a packet. What do you know......

So I took the noodles out of the microwave and placed them on the bench. Master 3 asked "What's that?"

"Noodles."

"Noodles??? Is that noodles??? Why has it turned into soup?"

Nawww. One of those moments.

So let's just say that overall dinner was not a huge success. It was made slightly worse by Miss 4 deciding to spin her bowl around. Twice.

The first time I only heard as I was facing the other way.

The second time I was facing her, and thus able to see the enormous twirl that sent the bowl, complete with Mi Goreng noodles, plummeting off the table and crashing to the floor, spewing forth a bazillion tiny fragment of Mi Goreng noodles that I had loving chopped into small pieces so the kids could eat them with a spoon.

Yep. Genius idea that one.

I think it is fairly safe to say that I wasn't terrifically happy at that point. It is also safe to say that Miss 4 knew she was in big trouble. Not just for spilling the noodles, but for not listening, and for playing with her food, and for basically carrying on like, well, a 4 year old. Who is being naughty. Which she is. And she was.

Life can be challenging.

And then it was get ready for bed o'clock and reading o'clock. Miss 5 has improved quite remarkably with her reading, to the point that her books are now just a tad challenging for Miss 4, who up until recently has been completing Miss 5's reading after she does it. I know. Insane. So we now have Miss 5's reading, Miss 4's reading, Master 3 "reads" (i.e. flicks through the book making up a story according to the pictures, which I think is absolutely fabulous as it inspires creativity, and makes me laugh so much when I hear what goes on in his mind - "Man is at the window and there's a girl. What are you doing man? What are you doing? Why are you here girl? Aaaaaah there's a car.") And today was library day too so we had an extra, long book. So then we all sat and I read it to them. Well, for the first bit we did. Then Master 3 decided to jump on his sofa. And Miss 4 thought that looked like fun. So it was just me and Miss 5. Until Master 3 rolled on Miss 4 and she squawked and then there was a rescue mission and. Yes. I digress. We finished the book.

I was tired at the end of today. I really was. Work was hugely busy and truly fabulous. I am so very lucky to love my job. But I'm tired. Plus I have "mowing hugely long grass and body is completely unfit" mowing hangover going on. And the failures of dinner. And the noise. Oh the noise. The noise.

Master 3 finally dropped off to sleep at around 8.30pm. That is late. For him. For any of them. And since that time all I have managed to do is eat some corn chips and sit down and write this.

Tonight, as I was sitting on the sofa listening to Master 3 repeat "no" seven or eight thousand times in varying pitches and volumes, heartily amused by the sound of his own voice, I said to myself that this is a damn hard caper. And some days it really is. Granted, it isn't all bad on days like that, but, well, it's hard is all.

And there then are other days when you get the hugs and smiles and your kids remind you of everything good in life. And things do go well. And behaviour is fabulous. And laughs abound. And fun and joy and wonderment occurs.

Some days are just a bit more trying than others.

But I made it through. And nobody got hurt. Bonus. The peas have been in the freezer for 27 hours straight now. That must be some kind of record.....

I love it when they help.

No. Really. I do.

And that was only half sarcasm.

When they all get their own bowls and spoons or put things away or make their beds or anything like that, I just love it.

Except perhaps Master 3. He tried to help make his bed today. Picture a 3 year old atop a bed that has 3 corners of a fitted sheet firmly in place, he grasping the 4th corner repeating "It's not big enough" while trying to pull it towards the empty corner, his body weight removing any possibility of actually moving the sheet itself. And then he turns, which loosens the sheet, which then gives him hope, so he kneels on the sheet and starts pulling at the corner again. See a pattern forming?

So five minutes later I asked him, again, if he would let me help and he said "yeah....." with a big sigh. Poor lil man. Must have been a bit frustrating.

So he decided he'd tackle putting the pillow case on the pillow.

"It's not working"

"Would you like me to help?"

"Yeah....." *sigh* *stands up and runs out of room with a scream.

The bath was a bit of an event tonight. To say the least.

I started running the bath while buzzing around doing other things, and shut the door so Master 3 didn't inadvertently plonk in. And, well, time got away from me a little so by the time I got back the bath was big. Massive actually. Well, that's the kids' description of it. It was deep. Bit of a novelty. And it was hair washing night (it is an event in itself.....the girls' hair is long....).

So in hopped lil man, I quickly washed his hair and all was good.

Then Miss 5 hopped in too and I washed her hair. No incident.

Miss 4 was nowhere to be found. So I called out to her. Several times. And then went searching. I found her curled up, naked, on her brother's bed.

"Come on, bath time."

"I don't want to."

"The quicker you come with me the quicker it'll be done."

"But I don't want to."

"I don't want to have to count......" *long pause, followed by a sigh (by me)* "1....."

"Don't count at me!!!!!"

"THEN GET IN THE BATH!"

Oh yes. This gives me a GREAT feeling about washing her hair.

I finally managed to get her into the bath and decided to just go hell for leather and get the washing done asap.

It was a good three seconds before the squealing started.

"He splashed me and made me eat soap!!!"

"Well spit it out."

"I can't, it's gone."

"Just lean your head back and it'll be finished soon."

I swear that was quickest I have ever washed her hair, but it felt as though it was an hour. Minimum. Because the entire time she narrated with a series of low-grade squeals and squawks and general unimpressed grunting babble, until such time as the hair was completely washed, after which time she ramped it up because she had obviously remembered the unfortunate soap swallowing episode of minutes earlier.

Ah the joys.

I'll interject here. Even though it is I talking so I guess I really didn't have to interrupt myself. No matter, will know for next time. They call it terrible 2s. When you have a 2 year old and that 2 year old behaviour yada yada yada.

Well. I have, at different points in time, had three 2 year olds.

2 is easy.

3 is challenging. More so if the 3 year old is a boy I think. In my humble opinion. Non-sexist, based upon experience alone.

4 is holy crap. Because seriously. Att. It. Ude. Majorly.

Everything is a drama. Everything.

Eating breakfast and a small drop of milk lands on the table. And they say you shouldn't cry over spilled milk. Tell that to a 4 year old.

This morning Miss 4 spent an hour wearing only knickers because she decided that she wanted to wear the top that Miss 5 was wearing. And figured that by remaining half naked there was still a chance that could be her top for the day. Ba bow. Not so mini chick. Get dressed.

Anyway, I finally got all three kids out of the bath this evening, and eventually managed to get them dressed. Well, Miss 5 got herself dressed. And I actually said to Miss 4 at that time I was incredibly proud of her because at one stage Miss 5 placed her nudie bum in such a smackable position near Miss 4, and I saw Miss 4 look at Miss 5's bottom and could literally SEE her contemplate giving that bottom a smack, but she resisted. Well done mini chick. Small battles, small battles......

Time for a book. Cue tantrum from Miss 5 because Master 3 was on one side of me and Miss 4 was on the other and there was nowhere for her to sit and she couldn't see the pictures. Gutteral cries. As if she were grieving. Good lord child, it is a book.

So I explain to her that now she knows how the others feel because when she and I are doing her reading, it is she who is always beside me, and remains there when we then read a book for everyone, so now she is able to understand how they must feel.

She looks at me with the "are you serious" eyes. Another gutteral moan. I start reading. "Noooooooo!!! I can't SEEEEEEEE!"

"Then sit up here and you'll be able to . I'll make sure I show you the pictures."

Her out clause. Up she comes.

And so we read the story of Rapunzel, a family fave, in "Tangled" form. They adore the movie, as do I, and take great joy in reminding me when we get to the lantern pages that that is my favourite part of the movie and my favourite song.

Book ends. Teeth, toilet, bed.

Miss 5 falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Miss 4 needs a few goes at it, and I ask to not be naughty tomorrow, to which she agrees. We'll see.

Master 3. Yes. Master 3. World's worst child at bedtime.

"Muuuuuuuum. I want to tell you something."

And I go to his room. He talks in slow motion. Again. Seriously.

GO TO SLEEP!!!

So some time later, the final call comes.

"Muuuuuuum, I need you to put my blanket on my pillow."

I have a child who doesn't like to sleep on a pillow. He likes the pillow to sleep on him. On his back while he sleeps face down. And apparently the best way to have this happen is to then put the doona on top of the pillow which is atop his back.

So that I did.

And that was that.

And today was a very long day. And you barely heard any of it. Just imagine that......

I hurt

in places I never knew existed. But I'll get to that.

A funny thing happened. I was in the bathroom and turned the tap on to see that the water wasn't going down the plug hole properly. Hmmm. Not great. So, aloud, I said "The sink is blocked; I'm going to need the plunger." And pottered around a little, basically just looking randomly for a bit, before heading out the door and to the kitchen.

What I found was Master 3, in the cupboard under the sink. I, thinking he was up to mischief, said "What are you doing in there?"

And then he popped out. With the plunger in his hand. Clever little tike.

And so we then spent the next 10 minutes 'plunging' the sink. And I say "we" because I had an audience, in a line, a line which edged ever closer each time I pushed the plunger downwards. It was a bit cute.

Anyway, it was unblocked enough to let the water go down so that was good enough for me. One of those mental notes to look for some natural alternative to Drano, and, if that can't be found, get some Drano. I really dislike using chemicals if I can avoid it. I love the bicarb and white vinegar cleaning solution and use it for heaps of things. The rest I use baby wipes. The world's most universal cleaner. House needs dusting? No problems. Grab a baby wipe. Ceiling fans need cleaning? You got it. Baby wipe. Venetian blinds a little greasy and dusty? Bring it!! Baby wipe me. Well, not literally obviously. But you get the drift. Fabulous things.

The kids do say some strange things sometimes. This morning Miss 5 was sitting eating her breakfast and then pipes up with "It's nearly my birthday!"

"Um, it isn't really nearly your birthday miss."

"Yes it is."

"Well let's see, it's October now.... November, December, January, February, March... April. Still a few months to go there."

"Yes, but it is NEARLY my birthday."

Ok. Fine. Whatever you reckon. So I'll let her be excited for 6 months. No harm done.

Master 3 came into the kitchen not 10 minutes later and said "My ankle fell off."

"Wow, it fell off?? All the way off?"

"Yes, look" *points to ankle with not even so much as a scratch on it*

"Ooooh poor baby. Are you going to be okay?"

"No." *sad face* immediately followed by "THOMAS!!!!!!" as he runs off because he hears Thomas the Tank Engine has started on the TV.

I adore how kids think doing things with their eyes closed is the bees knees.

"Muuuuum!! Look, I can eat with my eyes closed!!!"

"Muuuuuuuuuuum!!!! Look, I can count with my eyes closed!!! 1...2....3.....4....."

You get the drift.

"Muuuuuuuuuuuuuum! I can spell 'dog' with my eyes closed.... D....O....G!!!"

Faaabulous. Good work little ones. Great job.

So a few weeks ago my mower broke. What happened? I don't know. One day I went to mow and it sounded a little bit 'off colour' so I put it down to the fact that it was too long since I had last mowed and the mower was giving me the cold shoulder. It started, I mowed, no harm done.

However, the next time I went to mow I nearly dislocated my shoulder. The pull cord string only allowed me to pull it out about a foot. No mowing for me. And the need to find a mower repair man.

Long story short and cut to the chase, yesterday I was at school assembly and was seated in front of my neighbour across the road. Lovely lovely lady, and great to chat to. So I asked her if she knew anyone who repaired mowers. She told me of one not too far from home, then offered her husband's help to load the mower into the car. I thanked her profusely and told her I would more than likely take her up on that.

Cue today. Her husband knocks on the door at 5pm. "My wife was telling me about your mower not working. I just wanted to know if you would like to borrow ours until you get yours fixed?"

Wow. How absolutely beautiful.

So of course I said yes and within a few minutes he returned with the mower, and a jerry can of fuel to boot (which I told him I did not need because I already had one, which I did, but how nice of him to offer!), showed me how to work it, and said I was welcome to keep it for a few weeks to get the lawns mowed. Amazing generosity.

So I popped it in the garage then went inside with the kids. Now today was a stunning day. Stunning. And it was only 5.15pm. Why not. I thought I would mow today, get it done now, and then that would leave me a week or so to get another mow in to get the level right down. That's thinking right there that is!

So out I went, into the forest of grass, and began to mow. Now to give you a visual, my backyard is, let's say, um, enormous for want of a better word. And there is a lot of grass. An awful lot. And it was approximately thigh height. Yes, I know. Far from ideal.

So I mowed. And emptied the catcher. And mowed. And emptied the catcher. And mowed. And ran out of petrol. And filled up the petrol tank (which I had done before I started mind you). And mowed. And emptied the catcher. Etc. Etc. Etc.

My dog was barking. A lot. As I had him tied up so he didn't "help" with the mowing, which he tends to do when roaming freely.

Miss 5 screams, over the noise of the mower "Muuuuuuum! He's barking to tell you you're doing a great job!!"

Seriously cool kids.

And in the space of an hour and fifteen minutes of hardcore mowing, I was done. With the back yard. Still up the driveway and the front to go. Thankfully that was far shorter and only took 15 minutes. Cutest part was Miss 4 was walking lengths with me, giving me motivation. "You're doing a great job mum!" Absolutely adorable. And again. Seriously cool.

Then I heard "MUM!!!!!". Terrified she had fallen or something had happened I screamed "WHAT!!!!?!" Wherein she said "Don't mow over the flowers." We have wildflowers. Beautiful little white flowers. So I picked them, gave them to her, and kept on mowing. And my wasn't she chuffed.

And then it was done.

So I came inside, showered, and sat on the sofa.

Very. Bad. Move. Every muscle in my body seized up. Oh dear, what have I done. I'll tell you what I had done - I used muscles that had been in a coma quite possibly since birth. The mower I borrowed was slightly older than my mower. In that regard it was a tad heavier (a lot) and a small amount more hideously cumbersome to manoeuvre. How cool is that word? Add an i and it's got the vowels completely covered. E just HAD to make a double appearance didn't it?

And Master 3 came over, having listened to me for the last 5 minutes saying I was sore, climbs up, sits on my lap and says "I'm sore." Going out in sympathy methinks....

So I am aching pretty well all over. Not in a bad way. In an "I have done something incredibly productive" way. So it's all good. But I do hurt. At least that gives me an excuse to self-medicate with a lovely Shiraz.... after all, it is a muscle relaxant isn't it...?

Good enough for me.....

I have come to the conclusion

that we can never go anywhere quickly. Except of course for the hospital. Can get there in record time if the situation presents itself. And it has. Numerous times in fact.

The more children you have, the later you will be. So you set yourself an early goal so that even if you are late by your early goal you are still on time by the actual goal. Clear as mud?

I have the microwave clock set 17 minutes fast. I know. Insanity. BUT it works. It is a visual cue that makes me think "holy crap better get a wriggle on." I'm not sure it actually changes or helps anything but I do it nonetheless. Actually that's interesting. I might try not doing it and see what happens..... I'll let you know.....

But there are several things that will slow you down when you have three small ones. I'll let you in on just a few.

Just as you are about to leave, one will need to go to the toilet.

Just as you are about to leave, one will decide that this is the perfect opportunity to try out their slow motion actions that they learned from a segment on Play School the other day.

Just as you are about to leave, one will throw spiderman at another's head.

Just as you are about to leave, one, as previously discussed, will tip water all over themselves.

Just as you are about to leave, one will remove his shoes and pants because he doesn't want those ones anymore.

Just as you are about to leave, one will lie down on the floor and roll themselves up in a towel because they want to "be an easter egg". And no, I have no idea what that meant, but Miss 5 seemed to think it was apt this morning.

Just as you are about to leave, one will plonk themselves on the sofa and say "I a sorsted mummy". Exhausted. Yes. Probably because you got up before bakers.

So there are a few things you may have to look forward to if you still have babies. Once they start "doing" stuff it gets even more cumbersome than the whole nappy bag thing. Cos you have the nappy bag PLUS all those wonderful added extras. Sensational.

Now as you know I am a single mother. Which means at times the kidlets are left to fend for themselves, me still at home obviously but occupied doing other things, whether that be cleaning, cooking, or, in this case, having a shower.

The shower. As soon as I announce I am going to have a shower (usually from behind a cup of coffee) I get "I want a hug!" from everyone. So before I go to have a shower I hug everyone. "And a kiss!" So I go around and give everyone a kiss, and make my way towards the shower, where, inevitably, at least one, and usually more than one, child will follow for another hug.

I know. I'm going to the shower. It isn't like I'm leaving for a six week holiday. But it's a bit cute.

So I hop in the shower, and hear Master 3. "Are you in the shower?"

"Yes"

"Oh. Ok. I want a hug."

"You can't have a hug baby, I'm in the shower, I'll give you a hug when I get out."

"Oooooookay"

So I start to shampoo my hair.

Master 3 is back. "What's this?"

I look out. He is holding a book. "It's a book." (Bet you didn't see that one coming)

"But how big is it?"

"Little"

"Oh. Little?"

"Yes, little."

"Ok." *runs out of the bathroom screaming*. He does this often. It's as though his movement is directly related to the amount of sound coming out of his mouth. So if no sound, slow motion. Lots of sound, running like a madman. He ran. Fast.

And then it was Miss 4's turn.

"Muuuuuum. After you have your shower can you please get me dressed?"

"Of course I can baby."

"Can I wear leggings and you wear leggings too?"

"Yes baby."

*Smiles* "Can I have a kiss?" And so I lean out of the shower and give her a kiss.

"You got me wet."

"Well, I'm in the shower baby. I can't exactly avoid that. There is water pretty well everywhere."

She just looked at me. Then laughed. And walked out.

Back to it. Miss 5's turn.

"Muuuuuuum. Have you made my lunch yet?"

"No baby, I'll do it when I get out of the shower."

"Can I please have strawberries again?"

"Of course you can baby."

"Eeeeeeeeee thank you mummy!!!!!"

"You're welcome darling."

Sigh. Leave me the hell alone kids. Seriously. Five minutes. That's all I need. They didn't, it continued, for the duration of the shower. As it often does. Oh well. Tis better than the alternative. That being hearing the bloodcurdling screams as one has thrown something at another's head, or snatched something from them or, heaven forbid, blocked their view of the television or something equally as earth shattering.

Anyway. We made it through another day today. Me and the three. We got out and about, stayed in for a bit, saw some friends, and Miss 4 got stepped on by Master 3. Completely accidentally. But holy moly it looks horrific. Her thumb has swelled so much that it is solid. Like solid solid. I doubt it is broken because it still has movement, but my god it would not tickle, that's for sure.

So I dosed her up with Panadol. As you do. Because seriously. Ow. And just cuddled her. A lot. Poor baby. I just hate when my babies get hurt. I would rather it be me than them. In a heartbeat.

Thing is, much as we want to protect our babies, there is only so much we can do. Innocent little accidents such as this are an unavoidable part of life. We can, and should, protect them from any external nasty though. That goes without saying. Once I had my kids I no longer was the most important person in my life - they are. And there is nothing on this planet that could change that. And I don't want it to. Ever.

And so even though I get frustrated at Miss 4 coming into bed with me nearly every night, tonight as I was tucking her in, I said to her that if her thumb started hurting too much, to just come in with me and I'll cuddle it better. And she stopped the little whimpering she had been doing, thumb raised in the air, turned over, I kissed her forehead, told her I loved her very very much and she went to sleep.

I then kissed Miss 5 and told her I loved her very very much too, then went in to see Master 3 who was impersonating the bleating sheep again. And I did something I haven't done for a long time. I picked him up, cuddled him, and then started patting him on his back and rocking, like I used to do when he was little.

And I held him tightly but not too tight, just patting his little back and holding him. And I felt emotional. He is the last of my babies and pretty soon he will be too big for me to do that. And as I felt him nestle in, I was taken back to so many nights in the past, settling him, listening to his breathing change.

And then he fell asleep. And I didn't let go. I just kept holding him and patting him.

Some minutes later I laid him on his pillow, pulled the doona up, and walked out to the lounge room. All my babies were asleep. And I had a beautiful moment with each of them before they fell to sleep.

And right now I am quite possibly the most blessed person on this planet.

And that, for now, is all :)

I'll tell you why you're tired.....

because if you are anything like me this is how your day went.

4.30am Master 3 "I want breakfast"

"Go to bed it isn't even light yet"

"I want breakfast"

"Hop in here with me"

Does. Sleeps for a nanosecond. Gets up. Turns on tv.

"Mum, tv doesn't work"

"That's because it doesn't wake up until 6. Go to sleep"

*hops into bed with me and goes to sleep*

Meanwhile, over the other side of the bed, Miss 4 is happily snoring, having stealthed in at who knows what time.

Cue light. And wakeup. Of everyone.

And breakfast. And the inevitable fights over who gets which colour bowl. Note to self - get set of bowls today that are all the same colour.

And so the next hour is spent caffeinating (me, not them), and trying to wrestle with personalities that are intent on asserting themselves in every waking hour. Master 3 didn't want those shoes. Miss 4 wanted to do it herself. And Miss 5. Well, draaaama drama drama. And I seriously have no idea about what.

So we eventually got out the door at around 8.40am. School bell rings at 8.50am for the preps. And I still have to drop the other two off.

So we get there, up to Master 3's room and he goes mock shy and clingy. Fabulous. And so after a zillion cuddles and kisses I finally have to leave, with the vision of him, throwing himself at the floor crying. Which, I am sure you will agree, is hardly the vision you want in your mind as you leave your child with someone else for the day. So I say, loudly, "Love you baby, I'll be back soon" over and over. More to make myself feel better than him I think.

Then Miss 4 goes to her room, and many cuddles and kisses later we depart.

And it's time to take Miss 5 to school. Late. Again. We were late yesterday too. I don't understand it. The days I have to go to work we are never late. The days I don't, we inevitably are. Why? I think it is the false sense of security instilled by the "you don't have to be at work by X time" thing. Doesn't quite gel that Miss 5 has to be at school by X time..... I'll get there. She's only in prep. I reckon by grade 5 I should be sweet.

And so all the kids are dropped off and then off to the supermarket for me. And my handy hint for the day? Online shopping. And I know, I went to the supermarket. Hear me out.

I'll let you in on how I do my grocery shopping. When we run out of something or are in danger of running out of something I add it to the online grocery list on woolies online. Then on Wednesdays when the specials come out I go through the entire specials list online. You will be amazed how many things are on there that you use on a regular basis, and that aren't in the catalogue. Add them to your online list. And then on Thursday or Friday I go to the supermarket, and open the app on my phone. Instant shopping list, and I know how much it will cost. Sensational.

But I digress. Again.

So shopping done. I came home, and unloaded the car.

And from here is where you can see why I am tired.

I brought the bags in and put them on the kitchen floor, wherein I saw the kettle and decided to make coffee. So I put the kettle on, got a mug and put the coffee in. And when I put the spoon in the sink I saw the dishes needed to be put away. So then I put the dishes away.

After I had put the dishes away, I saw the mug with the coffee in it, so I put the kettle on. I then looked down and saw the grocery bags and realised I hadn't unpacked them yet. So I started unpacking them. And when I was putting some things away in the fridge I realised that there was a container that had been there longer than my "3 day rule" so I opted to remove the container, empty the contents and then wash the container. Which then resulted in my opening the curtains above the sink to look outside, thus seeing the hideously long lawn, and also my dog, and remembering I had bought him a treat in the shopping this morning. So I found the treat, and went outside, gave him a pat and the treat, then came back inside.

On the way in I saw some washing on the floor of the laundry and thought I should put that in the machine, so I did. Then I realised there was washing in the dryer, so I thought I had best get that out. So I took it out and carried it to my bedroom, where I then put the clothes from the dryer onto the full basket of clothes already there, waiting to be folded, and realised there was a bag of clothes the kids didn't fit into waiting to go to the op shop so I sorted that out, then put it at the front door, which was where I realised I hadn't shut the boot of the car. So I went outside, shut the boot, and came inside, which enabled me to see into the girls' room to notice that their beds weren't made. So I attended to that. And coming out of the girls' room I saw a hairclip on the floor, picked that up, took it to their hair stuff container and put it in, which was sitting conveniently right beside a few toys that needed putting away. So I grabbed them, and put them in the toyboxes in Master 3's room, which then made me realise that his bed also had not been made, and who put all those books on the floor? So I put the books on the bookshelf, made the bed, put away the clothes that he decided he didn't want to wear this morning and headed back to the kitchen.

And then I saw the grocery bags. Haven't finished that yet. Thanks to something or other in the fridge.

So I continued unpacking the bags, and saw the coffee mug. So put the kettle back on.

And once the coffee was poured I put the spoon in the sink, and saw the empty milk carton beside the sink and thought I'd put it in the recycling box, so I did that, which made me realise the garbage needed taking out, so I tied off the bag, and turned around to see that there was a box of recycling that needed to go out, separate to that in which I had just placed the recycling, so I picked that up and took it outside and shoved it in the bin.

So back to the kitchen and see the rubbish, and take that out again, spying out of the corner of my eye that the flowers in the vase in the lounge room are looking a little bit how's your mother and probably could use chucking.

Back to the kitchen again, I see bags, still not unpacked, so keep doing that. Finish that and realise I have a coffee on the bench, cold by now, so put it in the microwave.

Then I spy something on the floor. It is a woolies animal card. Cos we don't have enough of those at the moment. I pick it up, which makes me then be at eye level with the underneath of the table. So I realise I need to vacuum. Mental note to self. Vacuum.

And I finish putting away the groceries and drink the coffee. And go back to the bedroom and fold some of the washing. And then I see the glitter paint from the other day and think I could use some more of that. So I grab my bag, purse and phone and head out the door towards "my favourite shop" and then I'm there. And there is a WALL of fabric paint and I am like a kid in a candy shop. So I get some, get some stencils, some paintbrushes, and, most importantly, a set of 4 bowls that are ALL THE SAME COLOUR and head home again.

And feel like coffee. So I put the kettle on.

And then I go back to the lounge room and spy a shoe under the sofa. So I stupidly don't just grab the shoe, I get down on floor level and am then able to see everything under the sofa. So that gets removed.

And I put it all away and then go back to the kitchen and think coffee would be nice so I put the kettle on. Turning around I see Miss 4's leap pad on the sofa chair and remember the batteries need charging, so I remove those and put them on charge. And then I recall Miss 5 has the same issue, so spend the next 10 minutes trying to find the other leap pad, the other charger, and put those on too. By which time I think I need a coffee so I put the kettle on.

And I think you get the idea.

So yes. Those days we have with no kids are just so relaxing aren't they?

I'll just put the kettle on......

So I get a call from daycare

yesterday afternoon.

Again.

I answer the phone and say "Hello?" and the first words that are uttered are "He's ok".

Yep.

I have filled in a lot of incident reports.

When I had three kids in daycare, there were at least that many incident reports. Every week. At least one per child. And often many times more.

My darling Miss 5 earlier this year decided to fall out of a tree and land quite spectacularly on her head. The day before her very first school photos. At least it'll be a story to tell down the track....

Within 2 days of being at her new school after we moved early in term 2, bang. Incident report.

And why do they injure themselves so much?

I think I may have mentioned before. My kids are off their heads. If anyone worked out a way to harness that energy then fossil fuel debate be gone.

Yesterday, my lil mini dude Master 3 decided to play on some bars, and promptly fell off. He has a black eye.

The other night, same mini dude was standing beside the drawer in the kitchen. And sneezed. And headbutted the drawer.

Yep.

Special.

I can't comment though. I distinctly recall looking out a window one day, a closed window, and trying to reach just that bit further. And head butting it. At work. Yes. There were witnesses.

Yesterday was busy at work. And fabulous. I am one of those lucky ones who loves their job. Tis challenging, but fabulous.

I think with all jobs, paid and unpaid, there are bits you love and bits you hate. And bits that, well, you just do. I think with parenting, it is a bit of a strange job in that regard. Because there are lots of bits you love (some so small as a child blowing you a kiss across the playground or so enormous as watching your child take their first steps), some bits you hate (and if anyone says they don't hate cleaning up vomit and poo then they are lying), and a lot that you just do because you do (and let's face it, they just keep eating, and making mess, and soooo much more). Tis just par for the course.

I'm about to have an aneurysm with the number of times these children have said mummy today. And the number of times they have come out from their beds, if I had a dollar as the saying goes......

Master 3 sounds like an exhausted sheep, bleating "mummmmyyyyyy" repeatedly. I'm hoping he will tire himself out from it. Any time I ask what it is he wants, I get "ummmmm, ummmmmmm." Which, ironically, sounds quite like "muuuuuuum, muuuuuum." Way to get a break from the monotony.

He has nothing to say. He needs nothing. He is simply making noise. Because that is one of the reasons he was put on this earth. Noisemaker. I'm sure of it.

And this is why, after they have gone to bed, my three, I very rarely watch tv or listen to music. Because that silence is just amazing. To be able to hear the gentle hum of the fridge, or the sounds of a distant car or plane is welcome. On many occasions, three voices fill every possible void in the sound sphere and my brain may explode. Occasionally.

And I just went back in to the girls. Because, once again, the summonsing continued. And so I get there. And Miss 5 says "Mummmmmmy?"

"Yes baby"

"I'm really tired."

Sigh.

"Nigh night baby."

Master 5, some minutes after. "Mummy....?"

So I went in.

"I've got a gooby for you." *hands me a substantial sized booger*

"Thank you baby. Nigh night."

And so another hug and kiss (number 14 or 15 for the evening) and let us just hope that the noise will morph into the steady rhythmical breathing of slumber. Times 3.

Fingers. Crossed.