I need a Thermomix.

Not want. Need.

And I mean that.

I went to a demonstration tonight.

Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. And that is excluding the Thermomix itself. We laughed, we carried on, we had a few wines, and amazingly many of us had never met the other people there.

I had gone to primary school with the host many moons ago, but she was the only person I knew. The others had come from here there and everywhere and we all just had an absolutely fabulous time. The kind of night that is laugh after laugh after laugh. But none of them forced.

Brilliant.

And then the Thermomix.

I now see what all the hype is about.

Now I'll put my excitement into context. As I have mentioned on occasion, I have a tremor. It is getting worse, and things that I used to do without even a thought now require much thought, inclusive of chopping vegetables when preparing meals.

Well. Problem solved. Thermie does it for you. Yes. Yes it does.

And do you know what else? In addition to chopping stuff, it cooks stuff. And not simple stuff. It can steam. And boil. And about a zillion other things. All at once.

And the food I tasted tonight was quite simply amazing.

I am completely 100% sold. It will change my life.

And another thing. It does everything QUICKLY! I mean, meals that would usually take 45 minutes to prepare and cook take 10.

I. Kid. You. Not. I saw it with my very own eyes.

I was skeptical. Massively.

Now I am a convert. In every sense of the word.

I want one. And I want one now. And I'm picturing Veruca Salt and Willy Wonka….

So the night had to end as I had to travel home, which was a good half hour trip.

And as I got out of the car, I turned to the house and was just about to walk around the corner when I caught sight of something in my peripheral vision and stopped.

Where I stopped was approximately 6 inches from the most enormous spiderweb you have ever seen. It spanned a good 2 metres from the tree beside the path right across to the house, and was at least 2 metres high.

What was even more terrifying was the enormous spider weaving away madly right at the centre of said web.

I could have died there and then.

Enormous.

ENORMOUS.

Anyway, it was just lucky I had a mop in the driveway (don't we all) so was able to pull down the web and run inside.

Yes I broke the law of nature. My usual rule is anything inside our house is an invader and shall be treated accordingly, and anything outside the house shall have its space and home respected.

Um. No. Not today.

If my kids ever saw that spider they would never sleep again. And their sleep is hardly perfect now so I just don't wish to take that risk.

So I called on uncle mortein to assist in my quest to rid my house of the mutant spider from hell, and sprayed it while it scooped up the remaining portions of its web and headed for the roof.

I have no idea if it is still in the land of the not permanently sleeping. All I know is that I will not relax any time I leave or enter my house for the rest of my natural life.

Because that is just bloody terrifying.

Care to see??

Bet you thought I was exaggerating hey……...

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My teeth hurt.

And no. Don't tell me to go to the dentist.

My teeth hurt BECAUSE I went to the dentist.

See many decades ago they discovered this thing called amalgam. Amazing stuff. Whack it in teeth and it would last forever.

What they didn't envisage was that whilst the amalgam would still go strong, the tooth couldn't really take the amalgam for 30 odd years, and said tooth would crack.

So I spent well over an hour today having three, yes THREE, amalgam fillings removed and replaced with whatever the hell they use these days.

And if they find out down the track that THAT cracks your teeth, well, do you know what? They can just rip them out and be done with. Because I am not a fan of the dentist. I don't know many people who are.

Still.

It has been a busy week. Lots on. I do usually like busy. But busy work busy is good. Busy running around busy is slightly less good because a) it uses petrol, b) it uses brainpower to get the logistics on track and c) it is just plain exhausting.

I do sometimes feel like a broken record.

I do often feel exhausted.

And today I decided I have had enough of noise. I have just had enough.

So, we sat down, the four of us. It was quiet.

"I have made a decision" I said.

"I'm not going to yell anymore."

Smiles.

"I'm going to speak quietly. And if you don't hear what I am saying to you, then the consequences are a loss of toy."

Smiles gone.

"Because when I speak to you, I need you to pay attention. I need you to listen. I can't do everything myself. I need your help."

Blank. Stares.

"So what do you think? Should we try it?"

And three bodies flung themselves at me and hugged me.

So I'll take that as a yes.

I'm exhausted of late. Just. Exhausted.

I can't imagine why. I mean, it's 11.11pm and I am up. But you know why I'm up. And I am up for that reason again tonight.

But I think I might just have to suck it up and get woken. Because I'm 40 now. Getting on a bit. And I need some bloody sleep!!!!

Miss 5 cried this morning. Not as I dropped her off. No. She waited a good 2 minutes. I was outside, leaning into someone's car window, the mum of one of Miss 5's little friends at school, when the teacher came out to ask if I was Miss 5's mum, which, of course, I was, and readily admitted to.

"She's a bit upset. You'll probably hear her when you get in the door."

Great.

And yes. She was a bit upset. And yes, I did hear her.

Why was she upset? Because she wants me. And doesn't want to ever let me go. And I felt. Like. Crap.

10 minutes I sat with her. She was almost inconsolable. I kept telling her how much I loved her and that I was always here and she just had to go to school, but I was dying inside.

When I finally left her at her classroom with her teacher, and she still wasn't happy, she was still crying, I walked away at the instruction of one of the other teachers "Just go!"

And I cried.

And I got around the corner and that teacher asked if I was ok and I said I wasn't. Because I wasn't.

Because it was my fault. It was my fault that Miss 5 had got upset. Because that morning all the kids were being right proper little buggers and I am just tired. I just need a break. And I told them. I stupidly told them that I thought they should go spend a few days somewhere else so I could have a break.

Who does that? Who???

Whilst it is true that I do, I just should not have said it to them.

We just don't realise how much our words can get into the minds of our babies.

I'm kicking myself. I'm punching myself. I am truly beating myself up.

The teacher who was with me told me not to. She admitted to having said the same, and she has a husband, and support.

We all need a break. We all need support.

We all need to realise that we are only human. Our lives are not television shows. Things don't go smoothly. And feelings get hurt, inadvertently, fairly regularly, for many different reasons.

It doesn't make us any worse parents. But beating ourselves up isn't going to make us any better parents either.

Today was a bad day. It was actually a really bad day.

But the morning drop off in my mind topped the bad charts.

You know I just hate seeing my kids sad. That's all. I know that life is full of heaps of emotions. And that without the bad times the good ones don't seem quite as good.

But I kid you not. If I could save my babies from having to experience sadness and feelings that I have experienced in my life I would do so in a heartbeat.

I want them to experience a wide range of emotions, but I want them to not suffer at the hands of said emotions.

Sadness can be felt at the loss of a treasured possession, rather than the loss of a treasured friend.

This week has seen two dear friends depart this world. One was unsurprising due to a long illness, the other was not anticipated, and quite shocking.

I don't want my babies to experience these harsh realities of life for a long time to come. But I know they will. Because that is the way life works.

I want to protect them. I want to tell them that everything will be ok. I want to hold them tight and just fill them with love.

Sometimes life just isn't fair.

This past week counts in that.

That is all.

I will always win.

Not in every battle.

But in regards to the battle of wills with Miss 4, I will always win.

Because I know how she works. She is me, some 36 years ago.

What she doesn't realise is that I have been there before. I know how she thinks.

And I'm better than her at it. Cos I've been doing it longer.

Tonight was not a great night.

The tears began because Miss 4 wanted to sit in the seat in which Miss 5 was sitting.

Miss 5 offered to move. I told her not to. Because in life you can't always get what you want, and you need to get used to that.

Kudos to Miss 5 for offering, but Miss 4 needs to know.

And then came the "I don't like this."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Fine. Don't eat it then. But that means no dessert."

Cue. Hysterical. Tears.

Dessert tonight was fruit salad. Watermelon, green and red grapes, and apple. So not over the top "treat" dessert, but dessert nonetheless.

Miss 4 was at the table for a very long time. During that time Master 3 and Miss 5 ate their dinner. It was what we call eggy pancakes. Egg, chopped vegies, chopped meat (chicken tonight), and a bit of flour, then fried in little pattie cake things. Yummo. Easy. Great way to use leftovers (which we did).

Every time the kids have them, it is a hit. Except tonight.

Long story short, Miss 5 and Master 3 ate their dinner. I then prepared their fruit salad for them and gave it to them, and they ate it.

All the while Miss 4 sat at the table in her seat telling me she didn't like her dinner.

My comment? "Fine. Don't eat it. But no dessert."

Bearing in mind dessert is actually fruit. But still.

They sat down for dinner at 5.40pm. Miss 4 finished at 7.03pm. And I made her her fruit salad.

And then we still had bath and reading to go.

But I tell you what. It was a learning experience for her tonight.

She learned that mum will not give in.

Ever.

Too. Bloody. Right.

Yes, the kids were late to bed. Yes, they will be tired tomorrow. No I do not care. Because tonight had to happen. The battle needed to be fought. And Miss 4 needed to see that I will never, EVER back down.

Moral of the story?

Stick. To. Your. Guns.

She ate all her dinner. And got her fruit salad.

And gave me a big hug and kiss goodnight.

Kids. The reason we have grey hair.

Plumbing issues

are never fun.

That moment when your 5 year old yells out from the toilet "Muuuuuuuuuum…. I think you should take a look at this….." you think it is either going to be something incredibly disgusting, or something that you really don't want to see.

Thankfully disgusting it was not, save for the fact that the level of the water after Miss 5 had flushed was approximately equal to the level of the seat.

Not. Ideal.

So I did the sane thing. I hoped it would go away. I got out the plunger, plunged, realised the plunger was not actually intended for that purpose, and went back to hoping.

Fast forward a few hours and yeah. Nah. Not happening.

So I phoned the real estate agent.

RE: "How are you?"

Me: "Good, thanks."

RE: "What can I do for you?"

Me: "I think I'm going to need a plumber….."

RE: "Oh no, why?"

Me: "Well, after you flush the toilet the water just keeps getting higher……"

RE: "EWWWW"

Me: "Um, yes. Ew. And, well, I just don't want it to overflow."

RE: "No probs, we're on it."

And on it they were. Within an hour I got a call from the plumber, and less than a half hour later he was there. At my house, evaluating the toilet.

And then it struck.

Fear.

Immense. Fear.

What if the cause of the blockage in the toilet was Master 3's missing Thomas the Tank Engine?

I don't think I have ever prayed quite so hard as I did right then.. because if it was found to be "our" fault, then pay we would, and pay we cannot afford to do.

So pray I did.

And, well, wouldn't you know it, tree roots. Thank. God. For. That.

And it wasn't a simple task.

The toilet had to be completely removed.

And there it sat, in the back yard, alone. And out popped Miss 5.

"The toilet. It's outside. Well, um, well (*adjust for shaky voice about to cry sound*) how are we going to wee in it if it's out there??"

Ah precious.

Explaining to her that the man was going to put the toilet back where he found it was interesting.

So after a few hours the job was done. Tree roots cleared. Toilet put back. Dog allowed to stop his barking after a marathon effort of protecting us vocally from the invader to our house.

We were all at home today. Why? Because. Because children get sick. Often.

And yesterday we spent three hours at the doctors to diagnose an ear infection and two throat infections. And no, that was not all in one sitting. Which is why it was a tad more frustrating than it could have been.

And no last night was not a fabulous night.

And no I do not wish to talk about it.

Let's just say the toilet is fixed, the kids are on antibiotics and I have wine.

Enough. Said.

I read an article

the other day.

It was something about bedtime and how kids just need you and all that jazz.

Well here's my 2 cents worth.

My days are long. Work days are long. Sometimes incredibly long. Not insofar as the actual time I am there, but the time that is mentally devoted to work even when I am not there, trying to work out the solution to a problem.

Some other days are long too. Days spent with children can be long. Can be enjoyable. Can be less than enjoyable. But can be long.

Now when I read one of those articles that says that kids shouldn't have a bedtime because they need you, well, um, yeah. Nah.

Kids should have a bedtime.

I should have a bedtime. I don't. Because of my kids. But that is an entirely different story.

But kids SHOULD have a bedtime. Why? Because if they don't mummy is going to go off her tree, that's why.

And everyone knows, happy mummy, happy kiddies.

Seriously though, all jokes aside, yes, I can understand that when kids are going to bed they may need you. But they may also be playing you.

Too many new age artsy fartsy bloggy doovy whatsit types spout the "your children are just wanting you" stuff. Yes. I know that. I know my kids want me. I know they want and need cuddles. That's fine.

But when they call out "Muuuuuuum" for the 17th time and I go in there and say, oh so sweetly, "yes my darling, what is it?" and they say "ummmmmmm", I'm sorry, but they are stalling. They are trying to hold off going to sleep for as long as physically possible.

"I need a drink."

"I want a hug" (I'm a sucker for that one because, well, there will come a time when they won't, so I do)

"I'm hungry". Seriously.

"I'm thirsty." See I need a drink.

"She's making me wake up." Said in reference to the child who is asleep in the bed beside her.

"I saw a bug."

"What was that sound?"

Seriously children. You don't understand. Sleep. Is. Good.

If I could go to sleep right now I would. But I don't. Why? Because I know that there is no point.

No point how? You don't understand???

I will spell it out for you, not in a condescending manner, but because you simply don't know. Unless you are my Facebook friend, in which case you would, because it was my status the other day. Night. Evening. Whenever.

Here is the status.

"Sitting here at 11.38pm. Some may wonder why I am still up.

Miss 4 visited (asleep) at 11.11pm. Master 3 visited at 11.35pm (asleep). I can hear Miss 5 now. In a couple of minutes I'll be "done" for the night. So there. You. Go."

And I was right.

See I know the habits of my babies. I know that, usually, 11.30pm brings something. I have no idea what. But always something. It might be a nightmare. It might be a child falling out of bed. It might be a random scream. But always something. Always.

So I stay up. Because I would much rather being awake late than being awoken from slumber at a random time. That being 11.30pm. So not so random. But still. You know what I mean.

I did have a point. No idea what it was.

But yes. I love my kids. I will cuddle them till the cows come home. But come bedtime, well, I think Noni Hazelhurst does a pretty good reading of a book.

That is all I will say for now.

Soup is not a meal.

It really isn't.

Unless it is a curry laksa, or a tom yum goong noodle soup. But that is the only time.

Every other time soup is an entree.

Why? Because it just isn't filling enough to have a tummy full of liquid.

Add garlic bread? Don't mind if I do. And then find myself feeling horrifically bloated from all the carbs. No thanks.

I had minestrone for lunch today.

Yes. I realise that that goes against what I just said.

But it was there. It had been there, at work, under my desk, since I started there in September. I figured I should probably eat it.

And that my friends is what has brought me to the conclusion that soup is not a meal. Because do you know what? I was still absolutely starving at the end of it. Starving. Not literally obviously. But pretty bloody hungry.

So I have decided that unless it is a curry laksa or a tom yum goong noodle soup I shall not be having soup for lunch. Ever again.

Big. Statement. And I know your lives will never be the same again.

Tomorrow Miss 5 is having a lunch order. You have never seen someone so excited. And she is getting, wait for it, FOUR things. Yes. You read correctly. Four things.

I usually let her get two things - a "lunch" thing and a "fun" thing.

Today, as we were looking over the list, me perched at the ready with my sharpie over the paper bag, Miss 5's eyes wider than a the mouth of a crocodile seeing a swimmer in his territory, Miss 5 decided that she wanted a party pie.

Now I know Miss 5. A party pie just ain't gonna cut it. So I said she could have two.

And unbelievably her eyes became even wider.

When she asked for a zooper dooper and I said yes I believe you could have parked a small car in her mouth.

When I asked her if she also wanted a chocolate milk I thought she was going to explode.

See the thing is when I let her get a lunch order I allow $4. Party pies are $1 each. Zooper doopers are 50 cents. Chocolate milk is $1.50. There you go. $4.

But if she orders, for example, mac n cheese, there is $3 gone straight up.

It's all. About. Choices.

Teach em young I say.

So anyway, Miss 5 was that excited about her lunch order that it went in and out of her bag a good dozen times as she looked at it and talked to it and no I'm not a scrooge and she has actually had one before. She's just a special little creature.

Master 3 is getting much better at daycare drop off time. I put the credit on two things. 1. Stickers. Ample use thereof as a reward. Daycare folks adopt the same thing. I love it. 2. Distraction. The lass in his daycare room is a master. An absolute. Master. Amazing. And he doesn't even realise it's happening. Gold.

Miss 4 is pretty good. She goes through a mock shy phase and then off she goes.

It's funny you know. I was going to stay home with the kids until they started school.

Things changed. I ended up back in the workforce long before I ever intended, or wanted.

But do you know what? Tis the best thing that has ever happened. For both me and the kids.

Because I started to realise that I was in a bit of a rut staying home with the kids, doing only kid stuff. I loved being back at work. I also loved being able to finish a cup of coffee while it was hot. And it was also kinda good bringing home some money.

And the kids were doing things. Making things. Making friends and socialising. And getting used to being around others, and doing really well.

And now there is no way I would change our situation. I have gone from working a few days a week to, starting this week, working four days a week.

I have grand plans. Grand plans indeed.

They involve paying off numerous debts (boring, but necessary). After that, the world is my oyster. I aim to get us a house. A bedroom each for the kids. Some space to knock around. 2 bathrooms. 2 living areas. That. That is my goal. And I'll get there.

And if I hadn't ended up back in the workforce when I did, that goal would not even have entered my mind because I would have thought it a physical impossibility. In fact I did think it an impossibility until I did the accidental budget (for five years' worth…. the first year is still pretty bloody depressing!)

And so there you go. Where I am now is where it is to be.

The kids are happy. They are thriving. We don't have as much time together, but the time we do have together (save the odd completely lazy let's do absolutely nothing day) is spent far better and more wisely simply due to the fact that there ARE less of those days.

And that is the thing. Our situation would not be right for everyone. As someone else's situation would not be right for me and my three.

You need to find the right thing for you. You can watch others and think they have the bees knees until you are blue in the face, but you could be in the exact same situation as them and realise that you are miserable.

Because everyone is different. Every family is different.

And guess what? You know your family best. Listen to them. Watch them. Encourage them. Love them.

And things will work out. And you will be happy.

You may not have bacon (as I, currently, do not) but you will still be happy. And you will add bacon to the shopping list.

There endeth the lesson.

Private numbers….

A lot of people have them.

Good for them.

Call me from one and odds are I won't answer.

Why?

Because what. The hell. Are you hiding?? I mean really.

Most of the time the calls I receive from private numbers are not pleasant. They are people who are ringing for whatever reason and think that if they show you their number you won't answer.

Well guess what? I am far more likely to answer if I know who is phoning me! Even IF it will be a less than pleasant confrontation or discussion.

But I digress.

That wasn't what I was going to say.

What I was going to say was this.

My kids were possessed today. Not just a little bit. I am talking Linda Blair head spinning projectile vomiting possessed.

And yes, funny you chortle a tad at that, we WERE actually out in public. And yes, oh of course, we WERE at a rather posh place for lunch. And yes, of COURSE they were loud. And visited the toilets a thousand times.

And yes. There is a small modicum of sarcasm in that which I am writing.

But lunch. Aside from the fact that a rather expensive hamburger ended up on the ground, the table was "washed", and we discovered just how acoustically impractical the venue was, at least from our table, it was not the only thing that we had to do today.

If it had have been I may have survived a tad better.

It was not.

I did not.

We still had to go….sigh….to the supermarket.

Oh. God. No.

Dog food. We needed dog food. I ended up feeding my baby old doggie chicken and rice for dinner last night because I realised that there was no dog food in the cupboard. Don't get me wrong, he was rapt. And I don't mind spoiling him being that he is in his twilight years.

But still. Can't really afford to be doing that every night.

So dog food.

We had to get it.

We got it.

It was not easy. At all.

There were children. Everywhere. It was like that scene from the Matrix where Keanu Reeves is essentially everywhere. That was my kids. In Woolworths.

Longest. Five. Minutes. Ever.

I have never been more glad to be inside my house as I was today. And it was followed up with directions to the children to remove themselves from my immediate vicinity in order that I could caffeinate and calm. CC. Although coffee and calm would have been far better replaced with a whopping great glass of red.

It wasn't. I had no red. I have no red.

I didn't realise that.

If I had have realised that I would have sucked it up and bought a bottle whilst I was out with the Exorcist's love children.

Thank god there was a teeny bit of gin in a bottle tucked away in the fridge. For times such as these.

If tomorrow is a bad one I'm screwed. No. Alcohol. Left.

Must remedy that. Stat.

I have no idea if any of this made any sense.

The kids barely ate dinner tonight either. Quite obviously because it was their favourite. And they want to screw with me. By not eating it.

Ah well. My dog ate well again tonight…. If I had have known then what I know now I wouldn't have bothered going to the supermarket to get dog food…..

Live. And. Learn.