After 7 weeks of routine free fun in the sun, I felt especially obliged to be really rant-y tonight when putting the three kiddies to bed.
"It's a school night!' I blazed. "NO, you can't listen to that story until midnight".
You see, I needed to prove to myself that I've still got it.
After weeks of 'Sure, eat another bowl of cereal, you've only had three meals of weetbix today!', or "Sure, you don't need to wear undies", or "Yes, sleep in your clothes", or "Yes, lets go back to the beach" or "Yes, stay up and play spotlight in the dark", or "Yes, lets play cards all morning and make ray guns all afternoon", I just needed to check I can make the rules, that I'm the adult again, (rather than the leader of the gang who happens to have a visa card and a driver's liscence.)
We have had fun with these cool little people that we are so priviledged to drive around, spend money on, beat at cards, and during term time, parent.
They have all handled the long break in their own way.
Big Brother has been reading up on war. Following a christmas present of "War stories for young boys" - he has read it cover to cover a few times, and filled me in on tank warfare, aircraft firing, how to escape from prisoner of war camps, and how to get across a field littered with land mines (they started to demonstrate this by mining the front lawn of the bach, but someone was going to break an ankle, let alone be blown to bits by the hand crafted lego mines).
He also spent hours drawing. We compiled a 2cm thick book of compiled artistic creations by the end of the holidays and stapled them together for future wet weather reading on holiday.
Little Brother still inhabits the superhero Ninja world, where a beach full of pumice and sticks provides a weapons cache that would put General Gentry (aka older brother ) to shame.
"Can I get some weights, Mum?"he asked
"ah, why? " I asked
"Because I want to get muscles. When I grow up I want to be a Fat Ninja"
One day he spent hours drawing a picture and dictated to me a 7 page book describing his superhero powers (blue lightning, ice), his team of superhero warriors, and of course the enemies.
Another day I was helping him into his togs and commented on the 2 pairs of undies he was wearing (more than sum total of whole holiday that far). "Well, ' he says, " every time I lose a pair of undies I lose a life. Look, over there" - he indicated the discarded pair by the toilet - " I died over there, today".
(He's saving his pocket money to buy himself an Iphone. At the current rate he'll be 27 when he can afford it.)
Little Miss attacked her holidays with typical cheerfulness, expanding vocabulary, and multiple costume changes a day while still managing to spend most of her time naked.
"When I an adult", she confided in me one day while I was making a cup of tea, " I GOING to drink tea. " Then she lent forward and whispered ' "and, wine!"
Another day she was moaning after a walk across the long grass.
"I have scratchy ball-ies!" She said
"What's that?" I asked not quite sure I heard her correctly.
"I have scratchy balls-ies! " She yelled
"Which part exactly is scratchy? "
She pointed at her bitten ankles -
"You mean you have scratchy ankles," I corrected.
"No, they look like little balls! "
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Let the games begin
After a week of shoe horsing tired boys into uniforms, patching up shoes with duct tape and bribing them with sugary snacks in their lunch boxes, finally the final bell came. The teachers looked as relieved as the children. The parents were slightly less excited at the prospect of 6 weeks full time childcare, but at least the lunch boxes can be retired, and food simply laid about the house in opportune piles for casual grazing.
We got home at 2pm after a celebratory pizza and chip lunch with half the school at the long suffering local pizzeria. The boys first mission was to voluntarily clean the car so buckets of soppy water, hoses, spray bottles, clothes and water guns were hastily provided. It was a good reminder of holiday lesson number 1. Go with the chaos. Especially if something might be cleaned in the process.
Next, all the toy animals and McDonald's pre-landfill plastic collection of 2012 were collected, and lined up on the bedroom floor in preparation for a epic battle. This was a good reminder of No. 2. Go with the mess. And watch where you step.
The trampoline began it's transformation into a pirate ship. 'I need a stick to put the sail on' Little Brother said. 'And tomorrow, I'm going to work on the stuff that's inside the pirate ship, like a TV. It's going to be awesomely rocket.'
He ran off to get out of his uniform and into his casual look du jour - a T-shirt for a T-shirt, a T-shirt for shorts (legs through armholes and voila - instant tail!) and undies for a beard.
Reminder No.3. Go with the increase in washing. And pick up all used undies before they are recycled into props.
We had two swims in the sea over the afternoon and evening. Big Brother and Little Brother swam out in their life jackets as hubby and I watched and enjoyed a beer and chat in the setting sun. 'He was slipping out of his life jacket and I saved his life' was the report from Big Brother when they arrived back. He's prone to exaggeration, but still, Reminder No.4. Keep up the head count. 1.2.3. Children. How many? 1.2.3. Very precious and quite independent but still needing close supervision.
It got later and later in the day as Little Brother tried to find the perfect body cover that wouldn't attract bees, and Big Brother continued writing his lengthy tome that is entitled 'My Christmas list'.
Reminder no.5. What's bed time? We're having too much fun.
.
We got home at 2pm after a celebratory pizza and chip lunch with half the school at the long suffering local pizzeria. The boys first mission was to voluntarily clean the car so buckets of soppy water, hoses, spray bottles, clothes and water guns were hastily provided. It was a good reminder of holiday lesson number 1. Go with the chaos. Especially if something might be cleaned in the process.
Next, all the toy animals and McDonald's pre-landfill plastic collection of 2012 were collected, and lined up on the bedroom floor in preparation for a epic battle. This was a good reminder of No. 2. Go with the mess. And watch where you step.
The trampoline began it's transformation into a pirate ship. 'I need a stick to put the sail on' Little Brother said. 'And tomorrow, I'm going to work on the stuff that's inside the pirate ship, like a TV. It's going to be awesomely rocket.'
He ran off to get out of his uniform and into his casual look du jour - a T-shirt for a T-shirt, a T-shirt for shorts (legs through armholes and voila - instant tail!) and undies for a beard.
Reminder No.3. Go with the increase in washing. And pick up all used undies before they are recycled into props.
We had two swims in the sea over the afternoon and evening. Big Brother and Little Brother swam out in their life jackets as hubby and I watched and enjoyed a beer and chat in the setting sun. 'He was slipping out of his life jacket and I saved his life' was the report from Big Brother when they arrived back. He's prone to exaggeration, but still, Reminder No.4. Keep up the head count. 1.2.3. Children. How many? 1.2.3. Very precious and quite independent but still needing close supervision.
It got later and later in the day as Little Brother tried to find the perfect body cover that wouldn't attract bees, and Big Brother continued writing his lengthy tome that is entitled 'My Christmas list'.
Reminder no.5. What's bed time? We're having too much fun.
.
X's and Why's
As women we walk the tightrope of the double XX chromosome. Some of us balance perfectly poised dancing through life, and others of us swing side to side changing our minds like Tarzan trying to find rhe perfect vine. I can see with Little Miss 3 that she's already begun practising her acrobatics. On one side of the X's she feels the drive to be autonomous, independent, in charge of her destiny.
We're driving.
'I COLD" she yells, 'put up my window."
I put up her car window.
'But, I really cold' she yells again 'put up your window'.
'No thanks,' I said,' I want my window down because I am hot'.
And yet, on the other side of X, she really really wants to fit in, live the in crowd, keep up with the latest trend.
'But I'm Hot too" she yells straight back at me. "I want MY window down".
The other morning there was the empty packet of highly-priced-strictly-for-adults-in-the-family-cereal lying empty on the table.
'Who ate all the cereal?' I grumbled, asking nobody in particular.
'Actually, I eat it ' she said. 'I eat it p-cos, I eat it p-cos, (pause) I CAN eat it'.
While it's lovely having a like-chromosomed creature in the house, it's like running into a dear friend while travelling on Titanic. Having two of us onboard means it's going to get hairy for everyone at some stage.
A few weeks ago she was happily sitting in the car watching the world go by, when she suddenly observed "Mumma, your hair is all grimpily!"
"Thanks, I think" I replied, unsure if it was a heavily disguised compliment, or not.
A few days later, she told a friend. " You have grimpily hair, too, just like my mum!"
This was encouraging, considering the shiny stylish hair of my friend.
But last night all hopes were shattered. 'You lie down, Mummy' she said. 'I going to cut cut cut your hair. And brush it too. It's ALL grimpily, again.'
She is torn between desperately wanting to gather information, but already knowing all the answers.
' Where the sun gone?' She demanded, as we drove through the twilight home from scouts.
' The sun has gone down, so it's nighttime now'
'No. Why? She countered.
I tried my best. ' During the day the sun moves across our sky, but during the night it's moving across the sky on the other side of the world so it's daytime there'
(I feel bad about the Santa fallacy so I try to give as truthful answers as I can the rest of the year)
'No. Why?'
'Well actually, it's the earth that travels around the sun, but don't worry about that. Everyday the sun looks like it travels across the sky, then it sets and it's dark while the sun is on the other side of the planet. ' I bumbled.
' No. Your hair is grimpily.'
' Ok. Thanks.'
On the Y chromosome team, life seems much more practical, needs based, got-an-itch-scratch-it.
It comes in handy for random gaps in conversation, 'You should never bury your Dad in the desert sands when he's sunbathing and falls asleep ' Little Brother advised his cousin the other day, 'you might never find him again!'
And another favourite conversation starter: 'Did you know that I am allergic to poison?'
We're driving.
'I COLD" she yells, 'put up my window."
I put up her car window.
'But, I really cold' she yells again 'put up your window'.
'No thanks,' I said,' I want my window down because I am hot'.
And yet, on the other side of X, she really really wants to fit in, live the in crowd, keep up with the latest trend.
'But I'm Hot too" she yells straight back at me. "I want MY window down".
The other morning there was the empty packet of highly-priced-strictly-for-adults-in-the-family-cereal lying empty on the table.
'Who ate all the cereal?' I grumbled, asking nobody in particular.
'Actually, I eat it ' she said. 'I eat it p-cos, I eat it p-cos, (pause) I CAN eat it'.
While it's lovely having a like-chromosomed creature in the house, it's like running into a dear friend while travelling on Titanic. Having two of us onboard means it's going to get hairy for everyone at some stage.
A few weeks ago she was happily sitting in the car watching the world go by, when she suddenly observed "Mumma, your hair is all grimpily!"
"Thanks, I think" I replied, unsure if it was a heavily disguised compliment, or not.
A few days later, she told a friend. " You have grimpily hair, too, just like my mum!"
This was encouraging, considering the shiny stylish hair of my friend.
But last night all hopes were shattered. 'You lie down, Mummy' she said. 'I going to cut cut cut your hair. And brush it too. It's ALL grimpily, again.'
She is torn between desperately wanting to gather information, but already knowing all the answers.
' Where the sun gone?' She demanded, as we drove through the twilight home from scouts.
' The sun has gone down, so it's nighttime now'
'No. Why? She countered.
I tried my best. ' During the day the sun moves across our sky, but during the night it's moving across the sky on the other side of the world so it's daytime there'
(I feel bad about the Santa fallacy so I try to give as truthful answers as I can the rest of the year)
'No. Why?'
'Well actually, it's the earth that travels around the sun, but don't worry about that. Everyday the sun looks like it travels across the sky, then it sets and it's dark while the sun is on the other side of the planet. ' I bumbled.
' No. Your hair is grimpily.'
' Ok. Thanks.'
On the Y chromosome team, life seems much more practical, needs based, got-an-itch-scratch-it.
It comes in handy for random gaps in conversation, 'You should never bury your Dad in the desert sands when he's sunbathing and falls asleep ' Little Brother advised his cousin the other day, 'you might never find him again!'
And another favourite conversation starter: 'Did you know that I am allergic to poison?'
Friday, December 7, 2012
Countdown aka Dash for the finish
Christmas fever is building in our house. Oh, yeah. To be honest I'm about ready to pack in all commitments and resign myself to overeating, sorting lego into colours and pjama's as acceptable day wear. Yet, still we have a play centre christmas party, a 40th party, a community market, a tree to decorate, a 3 year old birthday party to organise and execute, white chocolate cheese cake to make, cards to post, friends to see, parcels to send, a nativity performance, a pizza night, christmas carols to practise on the ukelele.
No wonder we go about raving about peace, love and joy this time of the year cause we really need it. So much expectation to do it all in the few weeks left of this year, lets not forget there is another year around the corner.
The kids are enjoying the build up. They have started singing themselves to sleep with renditions of Silent night.
Little Brother told me the other day - 'Mum, I actually am going to make some Holy Spirit. I actually know the recipe - do you want to hear it? '
I was very keen. He said - 'I need milk and leaves and three types of food colouring - cause, you know, one for the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.' (Oh, that kind of spirit, I was hoping for a bit of holy Vodka).
They set up the Nativity scene on the fire hearth, and Big Brother pointed out the three wise men - 'That one is bringing Jesus gold.'
'ooh, treasure' said Little brother, a very keen pirate himself/.
'That one is bringing MURR' BB continued, himself a veteran of two Nativity plays,
'And that one is bring Frankfurters'.
No wonder we go about raving about peace, love and joy this time of the year cause we really need it. So much expectation to do it all in the few weeks left of this year, lets not forget there is another year around the corner.
The kids are enjoying the build up. They have started singing themselves to sleep with renditions of Silent night.
Little Brother told me the other day - 'Mum, I actually am going to make some Holy Spirit. I actually know the recipe - do you want to hear it? '
I was very keen. He said - 'I need milk and leaves and three types of food colouring - cause, you know, one for the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.' (Oh, that kind of spirit, I was hoping for a bit of holy Vodka).
They set up the Nativity scene on the fire hearth, and Big Brother pointed out the three wise men - 'That one is bringing Jesus gold.'
'ooh, treasure' said Little brother, a very keen pirate himself/.
'That one is bringing MURR' BB continued, himself a veteran of two Nativity plays,
'And that one is bring Frankfurters'.
NO !
She is going to be the perfect teenager. The world revolves around her and she controls the universe by saying 'NO' at every opportunity. I have to learn to state requests and never ever ask her if she wants to do something. The answer is already and will always be (until age 25) : No.
In a moment of weakness (and in desperate search for just the right type of requested undies for a christmas present) I ventured for the first time ever, into the Mall with her.
It was a doomed mission as she was already tired from a big weekend and late night. As we pulled into a park and she screeched "NO! Don't want this park, want THAT park" (pointing at the vacant space next to our car)
Oh dear. If that wasn't case for aborting mission, I dont know what further sign I needed. However, blithely, stupidly, thinking 'how bad can it be? she's two years old', I pushed on.
It was a classic case of mall-staggers crossed with christmas-toddler-grabs. I WANT IT! she yelled when she saw everything, the 10 metre tree , the sparkley baubles, the jockey undies with Dan Carter's own baubles buldging. I covered her eyes and said peacefully "Ok, lets put it on your christmas list".
The first 10 times I managed to say in peacefully, but that didn't last. I WANT IT ON MY CHRISTMAS LIST! she yelled. She's quite loud, my daughter.
I resorted to bribery and headed to buy us a juice, for (um?) good behaviour. She proceeded to have not one but two fully fledged lying on the ground, dress up round her ears, kicking, screaming tantrums as she objected to sharing the strawberry smoothie with me.
I kept up my mantra under my breath 'Who's the adult? I'm the adult'.
I carried her back to the car and went home and put her to bed. 2 hours later she emerged sweetness and delight.
I spent the time thinking of when she is a teenager and what how things will be so much better then. She'll ask 'Can I borrow the car?" Can I stay out late? Can I go to a party? He's just my friend!"
You know my answer will be?
In a moment of weakness (and in desperate search for just the right type of requested undies for a christmas present) I ventured for the first time ever, into the Mall with her.
It was a doomed mission as she was already tired from a big weekend and late night. As we pulled into a park and she screeched "NO! Don't want this park, want THAT park" (pointing at the vacant space next to our car)
Oh dear. If that wasn't case for aborting mission, I dont know what further sign I needed. However, blithely, stupidly, thinking 'how bad can it be? she's two years old', I pushed on.
It was a classic case of mall-staggers crossed with christmas-toddler-grabs. I WANT IT! she yelled when she saw everything, the 10 metre tree , the sparkley baubles, the jockey undies with Dan Carter's own baubles buldging. I covered her eyes and said peacefully "Ok, lets put it on your christmas list".
The first 10 times I managed to say in peacefully, but that didn't last. I WANT IT ON MY CHRISTMAS LIST! she yelled. She's quite loud, my daughter.
I resorted to bribery and headed to buy us a juice, for (um?) good behaviour. She proceeded to have not one but two fully fledged lying on the ground, dress up round her ears, kicking, screaming tantrums as she objected to sharing the strawberry smoothie with me.
I kept up my mantra under my breath 'Who's the adult? I'm the adult'.
I carried her back to the car and went home and put her to bed. 2 hours later she emerged sweetness and delight.
I spent the time thinking of when she is a teenager and what how things will be so much better then. She'll ask 'Can I borrow the car?" Can I stay out late? Can I go to a party? He's just my friend!"
You know my answer will be?
Saturday, November 24, 2012
RIP Ba-Ba
Yesterday afternoon she was leaping around the lawn, nibbling the grass, shredding my best pea crop in years, and stripping the silver beet of all greenery.
Last night, she was lying down, lethargic and this morning she is as stiff as a board.
So ends the short fluffy sweet life of Barbara-Ann Lamington Pearl (aka Ba-ba).
I blubbered.
Sheep farming is totally emotionally draining, especially when your entire flock is wiped out in one night. My brother the real sheep farmer reminded me of the saying - Where there is livestock, there's dead stock.
Maybe she found a poisonous nibbly bit she couldn't resist, maybe she had a clostridium disease due to lack of mum's milk as an orphaned lamb (Brother Farmer's theory), OR maybe the neighbour she has been waking up every morning (at 530am by bleating incessantly until she is fed) snuck through the fence and fed her snail bait (thats my current theory, I'm in the angry phase of grieving)
I continued to blubber.
Little Miss said - "Are you crying again?"
Big Brother said - "But there is some good news. We are still alive! We don't have the disease!"
Little Brother said - "Maybe we could get a new pet."
Dad dug a hole for her and we bent her stiff legs to fit. She looked peaceful.
Little Miss - "Why ba-ba sleeping in that hole! Ba-ba getting dirty"
Dad explained dead again, and the process of rigor mortis.
I suggested they pick a flower to throw into her grave.
Big Brother - "I picked a white one because that will remind me of Ba-ba."
Little Miss threw in her purple flower.
Little Brother threw in a grapefruit.
Little Brother - "Perhaps we can get a new pet. How about a seagull?"
Little Miss - "We get a new Ba-Ba? One day?"
Big Brother looked around the lawn - "At least we still have her poo's to remind us of her"
Little Brother - "Maybe if we watch some TV it might get away our sadness".
Inside a while later, they come to me with a card and a soft toy lamb. Big Brother has written me a card, and they have both drawn a picture of Ba-ba on it. The message reads:
'Dear Mum I am sorry to say Baba did but redmder your sill alive. Loev (with an arrow pointing to swap the letters around) from W, F, A and D xoxo
Last night, she was lying down, lethargic and this morning she is as stiff as a board.
So ends the short fluffy sweet life of Barbara-Ann Lamington Pearl (aka Ba-ba).
I blubbered.
Sheep farming is totally emotionally draining, especially when your entire flock is wiped out in one night. My brother the real sheep farmer reminded me of the saying - Where there is livestock, there's dead stock.
Maybe she found a poisonous nibbly bit she couldn't resist, maybe she had a clostridium disease due to lack of mum's milk as an orphaned lamb (Brother Farmer's theory), OR maybe the neighbour she has been waking up every morning (at 530am by bleating incessantly until she is fed) snuck through the fence and fed her snail bait (thats my current theory, I'm in the angry phase of grieving)
I continued to blubber.
Little Miss said - "Are you crying again?"
Big Brother said - "But there is some good news. We are still alive! We don't have the disease!"
Little Brother said - "Maybe we could get a new pet."
Dad dug a hole for her and we bent her stiff legs to fit. She looked peaceful.
Little Miss - "Why ba-ba sleeping in that hole! Ba-ba getting dirty"
Dad explained dead again, and the process of rigor mortis.
I suggested they pick a flower to throw into her grave.
Big Brother - "I picked a white one because that will remind me of Ba-ba."
Little Miss threw in her purple flower.
Little Brother threw in a grapefruit.
Little Brother - "Perhaps we can get a new pet. How about a seagull?"
Little Miss - "We get a new Ba-Ba? One day?"
Big Brother looked around the lawn - "At least we still have her poo's to remind us of her"
Little Brother - "Maybe if we watch some TV it might get away our sadness".
Inside a while later, they come to me with a card and a soft toy lamb. Big Brother has written me a card, and they have both drawn a picture of Ba-ba on it. The message reads:
'Dear Mum I am sorry to say Baba did but redmder your sill alive. Loev (with an arrow pointing to swap the letters around) from W, F, A and D xoxo
Visiting our old life
There are big events in life that spontaneously cause a fork in the road, such a rapid change in circumstances, your direction changes and you head down a side track you couldn't imagine you'd ever go. At time's it feels like that road you left behind carried on, without you, and you can imagine yourself living the other journey.
I've been a bit hesitant, unsure about bringing those two separate journeys together for us, but after nearly four years, we finally travelled back to where we used to live, touched base with our old life, well all the really good bits, anyway - our friends, the beautiful place we used to live (and none of the not-so-good bits). We went to a magical beach wedding, and the children danced the night away, pulling out all their favourite moves - shuffling, back spins on the floor and gangam style.
Car trips are such great opportunities for chatting, and listening to hours of Roald Dahl stories on CD, and of course, I-spy. Its a serious game in our car, with many quirks - we play i-spy colours, visible or invisible, real or imaginary. Some games take miles and miles, and there are many arguments.
Nine hours in the car each way gave us lots of time to tell stories about my memories of them as babies, and we drove by our old home where Little Brother was born. "So that's where I came out like a rocket!" he said when he saw the house. "I remember now!"
The car is also great for random thinking time.
Little Miss piped up at one stage "Mummy, I have a brown bottom, and you have a hairy bottom."
"Umm, ok" I was not sure where this one was going.
She continued "But Daddy, ....Daddy has a hairy darse"
Staying with friends is a good way to practise our manners. My children are well behaved only as a result of constant brainwashing - 'Excuse me from the table, Thankyou for the yummy dinner, 'parroted Little Brother one night, adding, "and, we do not wash our pits in the pool of eternal life"
I've been a bit hesitant, unsure about bringing those two separate journeys together for us, but after nearly four years, we finally travelled back to where we used to live, touched base with our old life, well all the really good bits, anyway - our friends, the beautiful place we used to live (and none of the not-so-good bits). We went to a magical beach wedding, and the children danced the night away, pulling out all their favourite moves - shuffling, back spins on the floor and gangam style.
Car trips are such great opportunities for chatting, and listening to hours of Roald Dahl stories on CD, and of course, I-spy. Its a serious game in our car, with many quirks - we play i-spy colours, visible or invisible, real or imaginary. Some games take miles and miles, and there are many arguments.
Nine hours in the car each way gave us lots of time to tell stories about my memories of them as babies, and we drove by our old home where Little Brother was born. "So that's where I came out like a rocket!" he said when he saw the house. "I remember now!"
The car is also great for random thinking time.
Little Miss piped up at one stage "Mummy, I have a brown bottom, and you have a hairy bottom."
"Umm, ok" I was not sure where this one was going.
She continued "But Daddy, ....Daddy has a hairy darse"
Staying with friends is a good way to practise our manners. My children are well behaved only as a result of constant brainwashing - 'Excuse me from the table, Thankyou for the yummy dinner, 'parroted Little Brother one night, adding, "and, we do not wash our pits in the pool of eternal life"
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