We're all Normal

I recently read this post on Dr Mama's blog in which she wonders if she is doing something wrong as a mother because her son is, well, by the sounds of it, completely normal.

All parents ask that question at some point. I know I do each and every day. Not so much with Henry as I did with Maya but I still wonder sometimes if I was a different kind of parent would I have raised a much quieter, less willful, and more co-operative child. I know the real question should be - won't somebody take this child away from me for half a day so I can breathe quietly and concentrate on one thing, such as using the lavatory.

Dr Mama says her child needs to be with her constantly. Well that sounds fairly normal to me. Henry NEVER. LEAVES. ME. ALONE. EVER. He needs to have me with him at ALL TIMES doing whatever it is he happens to be doing. No one else will do. It has to be me. I should be flattered that he thinks so highly of me and sometimes I am. Sometimes I just want to be able to pick the hairs out of my nose, all alone, without having to pretend I'm driving a fire truck at the same time.

I've often told expectant parents to have someone follow them around 24 hours a day tapping them on the shoulder and calling their name every ten seconds in order to prepare themselves for the fact that they will never, ever, be alone again because that's just what it's like. It's like having your subconscious sitting right on your shoulder, watching that you don't ever let yourself slip into a state of idleness. Watching that you don't misuse your alone time and that you keep your toilet breaks to a minimum of two minutes.

Just this morning to kill some time and get some exercise Henry and I walked to the local shops to run some errands. It started off ok but quickly turned into an outing (like all others) that I wished I'd never attempted. He can't stay still. Not for one second. He cannot simply stand in one spot or sit on a chair for more than a second or two. In the few minutes it took me to hand over the prescription to the pharmacist he ran up and down the aisles, rearranged all the neatly lined nail polishes, moved the Vitamin C bottles into the Fish Oil section, opened a few boxes of tissues and pushed the pram into a lovely display of facial moisturisers and knocked them over. Then we had to wait for the prescription to be filled. I tried to encourage him to sit still in the chairs that had been placed there for waiting customers but that didn't work. He'd seen some lipsticks that had not been nailed down. Before I could get to him and save them he'd opened them all and changed the lids around on some of them.

We left there all apologetic and made our way to the butcher. While I was being served he had to open and close the door several times to make the customer alert bell ring just because it sounded like a fire alarm. I was going to attempt the supermarket but I was too exhausted. Instead I headed for home. But as Henry knows the way to the supermarket and had heard me say earlier in the morning that I needed to go there he threw an almightly tantrum when I continued on past the street that would have led us there. I had to bribe him by telling him he could help me make his birthday cake when we got home. He didn't forget that and as soon as we neared home he ran up the driveway and into the house and had the oven open before I'd even had a chance to put down my shopping. "Come on Mum, we need to make my birthday cake". Every day is like this. I have to, as many parents do, continually think about what I say before I say it because he has a memory like an elephant. If I don't follow through on a promise, he throws a tantrum strong enough to wake the dead. The good thing is though, when he does this at home, he realises his mistake and takes himself to the naughty corner.

Parenting is tough, sometimes it even totally sucks. We're under much more pressure than ever to make sure our children are stimulated enough and learning enough and dressed well enough and eating a nutritionally balanced diet and are not exposed to any potentially psychologically harming situations and the list goes on.

Sometimes I deliberately ignore Henry when he's whimpering for my attention. Most times there's nothing wrong and he simply wants me to find the fire truck he can't be bothered to find himself. He usually only does this when he thinks I might be doing something that is not related in some way to him. The only times I'm not with him lately is when I'm at work and on the toilet. Anything else is impossible to achieve and there are some things I rarely attempt if I have Henry with me, like clothes shopping, shaving my legs, making a phone call, paying a bill, writing on my blog, catching up with friends because the pain that I feel when doing those things with him attached to me is not worth it. I'll do them when he's older. By then I'll need a tree trimmer to take care of my legs, my friends will have all disappeared and I'll be only be capable of singing the Fireman Sam theme song over the telephone.

Every child is "normal" in that they will, at some point, drive their parents completely insane. There are no parents however who would give their children back simply because they've been driven insane.

Tomorrow is Henry's third birthday. Three years ago today he started to make his intention to join the world clear to me. Despite being occasionally difficult he has been the most precious gift to all of us and we're overjoyed to know him. He can destroy all the pharmacies he likes and try to force me to play trucks all day because not being able to do that would be far worse than having to.

The Great Steam Train Ride

In honour of Henry's third birthday next week we took him on a steam train ride. It was just a short one hour but it would have been fine if it had taken a whole day. As we breathed in the old time smell of the coal steam we all imagined the stories those leather clad seats could tell if they could only talk.

Kan U TXT my score to me? Gr8!

How teenagers communicate.

Perhaps I've been feeling a little stressed

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Speaking

MT: Hello Mrs Mother, this is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I'm just calling to talk to you about your daughter's unexplained absences from school.

Me: I don't know anything about that. My daughter goes to school every day. I see her leave in the morning. She's a good girl. There's no way she would wag school, especially after I told her about what happened to me when I wagged it. God, I can't believe you're calling me accusing me of having a daughter who WAGS school. As if! Do you know how upsetting it is for me to hear you accuse me like that? Like I don't care. I know what you're going to say. You're going to say that my children should be taken away from me because they don't show up for school...I feed them you know, they eat every day. It might not always be good, nutritious food but they eat. I mean there's always bread and vegemite in the house. Lord above I can't believe this (starting to cry). Do you know how hard it is to raise teenagers these days? Well, do you? Probably not, all you teachers are the same. You get on your high horse and have the audacity to just call parents and tell them they're not good enough because their children don't bother showing up to school. I'm going to write to the Minister for Education you know and tell him how awful you've made me feel. You'll be hauled across the coals for this. You might even lose your job....

MT: Um, Mrs Mother. I just wondered if you or your daughter had an explanation, that's all. I'm sure there's a good reason for it. It's just that we don't have her on the roll for three days over the last month is all. Maybe she was just late and didn't get marked off. Perhaps you could...

ME: Oh sure. That's what you say but I know you really mean to spy on me and find out my business don't you? You people can't help yourselves.

MT: No Mrs Mother that's not what I'm trying to do. Look, would you just ask your daughter if she has an explanation and get back to us. We need to be able to account for those days. It's a legal requirement.

ME: Oh so now you're going to bring the law into it. Well I'm calling my solicitor.

MT: Ok Mrs Mother. You do that. But please just ask your daughter about the absent days and get back to me.

ME: Alright then I will but when this is all over you're going to be sorry you even called me.


Later...

ME: Maya. Come here please.

M: God. What! I'm trying to blow up my ear drums with my Ipod. This had better be important.

ME: Watch your mouth young lady. This IS important. Why weren't you at school on days blah, blah, blah.

M: Oh God Mum. I was at school. I was just late and missed getting my name on the roll.

ME: Well that's not what the teacher said. She said you were wagging it. She said you were drinking and smoking down near that creek bed near the sportsfield. You better not have been. You know I've got enough on my plate to deal with right now...

M: Mum. I was. God why don't you believe me. You go off at me all the time for nothing. I'm sick of it.

ME: Well if it's so bad then perhaps you should find a new family. One that lets you wag school whenever you want...

M: Ring up the school if you want and get them to check all my other lessons. I just was late for form that's all.

ME: Alright. I will. And I suppose you were late for form because you were kissing boys...

M: No Mum. I wasn't.

Later still...

MT: Hello. Is this Mrs Mother?

ME: Yes it is.

MT: This is Ms Teacher from Wagit State High School. I've checked the record of attendance at other classes and it seems your daughter was at school but she had missed her form class and so missed getting her name on the roll. I'm sorry if we caused you any distress.

ME: Yes well so am I. What with your ringing here and accusing my daughter of being a drug addict because she didn't show up for school. I told you she goes to school. Thank you for calling and straightening that out. Now I can let her out of the cage I lock her in when she misbehaves.



*Of course it didn't happen exactly like this but why the school couldn't actually check those records before calling me and sending me into a downward spiral of stupidness I'll never know*

Our day in pictures

As I write this Maya, Ben and Henry are behind me playing guitar. Well obviously Henry isn't but he's trying, unsuccessfully. It's been a day of bonding for our family. One that has been long overdue. Maya was largely absent for it because she was at her guitar lesson and then at work but we all sat and ate dinner together when she came home.

While Maya was at her lessons me, Henry and Ben went to the park to play. When we dropped her at work we stayed for a burger for lunch. Then we left Henry with Nana for a little while to do some shopping. Finally we came home and stuffed ourselves stupid with a delicious home made curry lovingly made by Ben.

While we had plans to clean the house we let it all go by the wayside and I'm glad we did. After what has been a hectic few weeks it was nice to all hang out together and just be.

Way Cool...

This is a photo of my eye. I'm only posting it because it is way cool.

Tip of the day

When parking in a "pay on exit" carpark always ensure you have your wallet with you in your handbag and not at home on the dining table.

Trucks the size of ships

Just to get out of the house today we took a trip to the Port of Brisbane thinking we'd get to see some big ships. We didn't. Instead we found these...


He says he was crying in this photo but he was only posing.

The Genes Don't Fit

Have you been working out at the gym?

No.

Well how come your butt is so small?

I don't know.

We have the same mother and father. How come I got the big butt and you got the small one?

I don't know. Maybe they just got you the wrong size genes.

My new nephew

Kai Brett. Born July 13

A rare moment of liking each other enough to watch Bob the Builder together

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

I don't know why it is but most people think Henry is cute when he's at his bossiest. I had to go to the city today and I took Henry with me so he could have a bus ride. His first ever. He was so excited about it that he allowed me to push him in the stroller to the bus stop. He even waited patiently on the seat at the stop until the bus arrived. He didn't try to walk out into traffic or throw his toy fire engine out on the road or at a passerby.

We boarded the bus and he chose his seat right next to the window. I sat beside him. The bus took off and he was completely mesmerised. His eyes roamed over the surroundings, checking out the air vents, the windows, the upholstery on the seats, the buzzer and the driver. A gentleman boarded the bus at the next stop and went to take a seat right across the aisle from us. Henry, for some reason, felt that he should not take that seat and yelled to him "you can't sit in that seat". The man looked over at Henry and very politely said "Well, how about you and me swap places and I take your window seat?" To which Henry replied "No, thanks. I'm fine here". The man then stretched out his hand to Henry and invited him to shake it. Henry did. For the rest of the trip into the city Henry kept peering past me at the man across the aisle and grinning at him. That gentleman was equally taken with Henry and made a point of telling him goodbye as we came to our stop.

The trip home was just as much fun and Henry managed to win over another gentleman who helped me aboard with the stroller. This man was middle aged and in awe of Henry's fascination with trucks and machinery (Henry squealed with delight at each truck we passed). The man told me stories of his own sons when they were little and how much they loved the same things as Henry. He said to me "It's so great to watch them when they're like that. It makes me wonder all the time about which point we start to lose our enthusiasm for the simple things in life. Why it is that we get so bogged down in trying to make it through life that we forget to be excited about a bus ride".

I have been thinking about his comments all day. He's so right. We tend to think of it as having to catch public transport rather than an adventure.

It doesn't matter how old they are....

My children, despite their age gap, love to argue. Henry is only willing to allow Maya near him under his own terms and conditions. This morning as Maya got out of bed and came upstairs to where Henry was watching TV the following conversation ensured. I listened from the kitchen not game to interrupt.

H: No, no Sissy, don't take his blanket

M: But it's my blanket (it actually was)

H: No. It's not yours, it's mines.

M: No it's not, it's mine. Go and get your own Bob the Builder Blanket.

H: (pointing his finger) Sissy, you're being very naughty and if you don't stop it you'll have to go to the naughty corner

M: So what...it's still my blanket.

I came out with Henry's blanket and draped it over Sissy and told Henry he could have the one she had. That of course just started the whole thing up again. They all only want what the other one has.

One would think that a 14 year old and a 2 year old would love each other to bits. And they do. It's just that they can't stand each other.

Oh the suffering

For those of you whose children have not yet reached their teens...this is what you have to look forward to.

Practice trying to get your children to appreciate rice while you still can.

I hope you didn't think it was going to be easy.

Just to prove my point...Maya came home yesterday with a pair of Sass and Bide jeans given to her by her half sister who is young, beautiful and still lives at home giving her money to spend on such luxuries as a pair of jeans that look just like any other but cost possibly three times as much. All it did was make her say the following line to me with her pinky finger poised for linking with mine - "I'm going to buy a pair of Sass and Bide skinnies and then I promise, pinky promise that I won't buy anything else and will save my money".

Of course I refused to link pinkies because she's said that before.

Industry Socks

Ben starts a new job tomorrow. As he had no appropriate attire we had to go shopping and we found these socks. As he works in IT they seemed perfectly appropriate. Even if they don't do what they claim it was worth buying them just because they are Computer Socks.. There were also Health Care Worker Socks. It made us wonder if they'll start producing Union Socks, Administration Socks, Checkout Chick Socks, Traffic Controller Socks, Mechanic Socks, Cleaner Socks, Investigator Socks, Celebrity Socks, Actor Socks, Dole Bludger Socks or even Single Mother Socks.

We also wondered if a pair of socks called Get Rich Quick Socks would actually do the job they were designed to do.

Sick and Polite

Henry has had a very high fever since late yesterday afternoon. Since this usually follows a cold and is always accompanied by an ear infection I took him to the docs to have him checked out. Of course I was right. I don't like it when he's sick but what I do like is that it makes him so compliant and so polite and so loving. He wants to cuddle and he always says please and thank you and asks me if I'm alright even though I'm not the one who is sick.

Today at the doctor he was abnormally complaint and even opened his mouth to allow her to peer down his throat and she didn't even have to use that horrid dry timber stick thing they use to keep the tongue out of the way. He breathed in and out when asked to do so as she listened to his chest with the stethoscope and when she was done he got down from my lap, turned to the doc and said "Doctor, can I please have a lolly now?". She asked him to repeat what he had said simply because she wanted to hear him say it again so he obliged. She then asked him if he knew where they were. "Of course" he said. "They're behind your concuter (computer)".

Even I hadn't seen them there and maybe he just remembered from last time but that's exactly where they were. She took out the jar and offered him one. When he had finally made his selection he said "Thank you doctor. Have a nice day and thanks for checking me out. See you next time".

We departed to the sounds of the doctor's chuckles.

On another note - Maya had her end of term drama performances on Tuesday evening. I was completely impressed and in awe of those teenagers who wrote all the material themselves. Each drama group had a theme and they had to write that theme into a fifteen minute drama performance using miminal props. Maya's group did "Perceptions of Love". It was sad, funny and insprirational all at once. I had an insight into how 14 year olds view the idea of love. They started off with a short scene at a restaurant. Maya and her partner were bored with each other's company when he got a call on his mobile phone. He left suddenly and she was all alone in the restuarant looking decidely dejected. The next scene showed the two of them at work. She his secretary and he her boss. He calls her into his office and fires her - tells her he's bored with her and that he needs more excitement. She leaves in tears and runs into a friend who tells her he had seen him out with a blonde bimbo just nights before. She later confronts him and they have it out...the scene ends with the two of them standing alone on separate ends of the stage. They added a touch of humour but it was hard not to sense the drama and sadness of it all. It was hard not to want to wrap all those teenagers in my arms and tell them that love isn't always like that.

Another group decided to tackle the issues of single parenthood. That one was truly suicidally sad. I'm not sure which one of them or how many of them had come from broken homes but they certainly had some first hand knowledge of it and presented it as something real and tangible. They're mature understanding of it blew me away.

I tried drama at school but in my day it was limited to performing a play that was already years old and always written by someone else. There was never any license given to the students to create their own themes or use their own life experiences to write something thought provoking and worth watching. I gave up because I thought that learning how to type would be much more satisfying and someday would allow me to write my own crappy stories. Little did I know then though that someone would invent the personal computer for use at home and those fake love stories I typed up in class to give to my bestest friend could be stored somewhere other than a piece of paper that she would then show to the whole world at lunch time.

Taverna Trouble

Today a friend from out of town took Henry, Maya and I to lunch at the Gap Tavern. I'd never been there before but if you're looking for a kid friendly but adult place to dine then it's perfect. They have a playground right off the dining deck and a kids playroom which is set up with a video car racing game, books, blocks and playstations.

My friend wanted to specifically go there because he's a consultant in the hotel industry and wanted to check it out for another person who's planning on taking over the management of it.

Anyway while waiting for lunch Henry played in the playroom which was located right beside our table. There were two other four year old boys playing in there too. They'd lay claim to each and every thing that was in that room and were not about to let Henry touch anything. I sat and observed for a while before intervening just to make sure I wasn't speaking out of place. Henry was his usual polite self and asked politely if he could play with the car racing game which had a seat and a steering wheel and required money (but he didn't know that). The other boy children just pushed him aside and said "no, you're not big enough and you wouldn't know how to play". Henry looked all forlorn and stood there staring and each time he attempted to go near it they shooed him away. I could stand it no longer and so tried the soft approach first. "Do you mind if Henry has a turn when you're finished?" Of course their answer was "No, he's not big enough and he doesn't know what to do, he has to go away. He just can't play in here". Very calmly I asked "Are you the manager?" They were then all like "After we've had ten turns each he can have a turn. We might take a long time you know?" I told them I understood but they weren't being very fair about it. I even pointed out that he had asked nicely and was willing to wait his turn but he didn't have to wait until they'd had ten turns. After I gave them each a stern glare they agreed to only have two turns each before turning it over. I walked away as though I had left the room but stayed outside the door within ear shot but so they could not see me. As soon as I left the room they started again. Henry had pretty much lost interest by that stage and turned his attention to something else. I left and could still see what was going on through the glass from our table. Everything seemed to be going ok but I went in later to check and by that stage the staff had turned on the playstations so I sat down to have a go. As soon as I did the four year olds decided they needed to tell me which ones I could and couldn't use. I made sure they were clear about the fact that I was an adult and could play whichever one I wanted. There were after all five playstations and only two of them so I had a choice of three. When I had made my choice they then proceeded to come and snatch the controls from my hand and tell me that I didn't know how to play and they would show me. I told them I was fine and could work it out. They then stood beside me telling me which way to move and who to kill. I had to tell them that I knew who the baddies were and I was doing just fine thanks without the running commentary.

Now normally these kids wouldn't have bothered me so much but I was tired and they were just too damned bossy. Plus I'd already spent the morning in Intensive Behaviour Therapy at home with Henry before leaving. They were getting on my nerves and rubbing me the wrong way. Their mother's were sitting at another table sipping wine oblivious to all the goings on and had not once removed themselves from their chairs to check on their sons.

As they kept it up I lost interest in playing and put the controller down and went to walk away. As I did so I couldn't help telling them that their bossy attitude had ruined my enjoyment of the game. I took Henry to the outdoor playground and they followed and kept it up out there telling Henry what he could and couldn't climb on. I stayed quiet and just glared at them. They soon got the hint and went back to the playroom to boss around some other little girl who'd gone in there thinking she'd just like to play with the blocks.

Aside from that little experience lunch was thoroughly enjoyable.

Thank you for being so darn cute

Henry's day care teachers love him to bits. They tell me he's the most polite toddler they've ever cared for. When he's there he thanks them for warming his lunch, for tucking him in when it's snooze time, and for helping him to the toilet. He even politely asks the other children if he can share the toy they happen to be playing with. He apologises to everyone if he physically hurts them or if he feels he's hurt their feelings in any way. Each day when I pick him up they tell me how delighted they are to be able to take care of him. All the carers wave him off and all the kids help him out the gate. It's like he has some kind of spell over them and has sucked them all into believing he's a perfect angel. For me it conjures up images of him dressed in a suit at 30 years of age flashing some greasy smile to an investor he's just managed to con into handing over millions of dollars for his latest venture.

He has always been polite and I'm very fussy about manners so try to encourage him to use them as often as possible. Even at home when he's throwing a tantrum he's usually yelling "sorry" while he's thrashing about on the floor refusing to undress to get in the shower. He even takes himself to the naughty corner when he knows he's stretched the boundaries as far as he can. He always comes to tell me when he's ready to say sorry and flashes a big smile and gives me an enormous hug. The thing is that lately he refuses to co-operate on anything without putting up a fight first. It's like he's just decided that it's about time to let loose with the screaming each and every time he hears the words "Henry, come and...". He immediately starts saying "No, not yet. I'm too busy". He continues that until I get to boiling point and then he starts to throw himself on the ground screaming "no, no, no not yet Mummy. I just got to play cars first".

When I get him to daycare he's all smiles and hugs and full of nice things to say like "I like your hair today Debbie". Of course the only thing to do is love him and kiss him and shower him with attention.

Kids self protective mechanism is to be cute as can be so they avoid a lifetime of never getting their own way.

more photos of the weekend.

This cow, Posy Cow, she's really not so bad, especially right after she's had her morning weet bix.

photos from the weekend

We won!

The Australian saying couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery certainly applied to the World's Biggest Pub Crawl we just attended in Maryborough this weekend.

It was certainly a lot of fun and some of the costumes worn by the patrons were very clever and original but the organisation of it left one needing a drink. If you've ever been to my home town you'll know it has a pub on just about every corner. At one time there were 22 fully operational hotels. some of them have closed down and fallen into disrepair but plenty are still open for business. There were 16 pubs participating last year but due to a heavy crack down by the licensing commission the numbers had dwindled to only ten this year. It started at midday and all ten pubs had to be visted by 6PM to make your participation count. Each person bought a card for $3 and had to have that card stamped at each hotel. The card had to be handed in at the lat hotel visited. They had buses to ferry everyone to and from the pubs on the outskirts of town but all those in town were within walking distance of each other. Getting all ten in by 6PM was no small feat. There was barely enough time to order a drink and get the card stamped before moving to the next one. Some pubs had queues ten deep at the bar so getting a drink at some proved impossible. There was simply no time to get drunk or even tipsy.

A huge event attended by a lot of people, many from out of town, out of state and even from overseas. Some bars had only two staff members on duty and very few were forward thinking enough to even set up outside can bars or softdrink stands. Everyone had to simply stand in line for a long time for both the bars and the toilets.

One hotel who did not want to participate for fear of attracting a huge fine was helped out by Rotary who had applied for a special license and set up an outside bar in the carpark. That one was withough a doubt the most efficient and best run of all. They had even thought to have a few portaloos handy.

At one hotel my sister and I went to line up for the toilet only to realise the queue went out the door. We were able to walk three blocks down the road and use the public facilities and be back with time to spare before Ben had even been served at the bar.

The good news is though that I have helped my home town win back the title from London. A small town with only a population of 26000 beat London if you can believe it. And I didn't even get drunk in the process.

Everyone was on their best behaviour and not once did I see anybody so drunk or so disorderly that it made the event a sorry one. We had left by 6.30Pm though and gone home so I'm sure there was some rowdy behaviour later in the evening at the two hotels who had provided live entertainment.

My sister works for the local bus company so we were fortunate enough to even have our own private bus to ferry us back and forth meaning we didn't have to wait in the long queues for transport.


Henry and Maya both had a lovely time with their cousins and my mother while we were gone. Only problem was Henry had to be bribed into the car to come home this morning. Three acres and lots of room to run meant he was as happy as a pig in mud the entire weekend.

Firetruck

My mother has a fire station just near her home. Last night while waiting for my sister to arrive from out of town Henry and I took a walk there. It was dark and the doors were closed so we had to peek through the windows to see the trucks. While doing so we spotted the firemen cooking their dinner. Henry said "I'd like to meet a fireman" so we knocked on the door hoping they'd come and introduce themselves. They did. Henry looked aghast as though he couldn't believe a real one was standing right in front of him. They invited us in and gave us a personalised tour of the station.

Henry thought it was all pretty cool until he was offered a seat in the firetruck. He suddenly became frightened and refused the offer. I got in with him but he still was frightened. He asked to get down so we did and as soon as we'd done so he turned to the fireman and waved to him and then said "Thanks for showing me the truck but I have to go back to Nana's house now, bye".

All the firemen were worried that they had somehow upset him and so they rushed off to get him a sample bag filled with fire truck goodies including some cardboard fire truck money boxes. He slept beside those all night because they were the highlight of his visit.

It'll be just like the days before kids

I'm off to boost the numbers of this over the weekend. Don't anyone go getting all mother's don't do such things on me because they do. Sometimes.

Since I'm unable to cope with anymore than two glasses of wine these days I doubt very much that I'll indulging heavily but it's not about the drinking, it's about winning back the title from Britain.

My mother is coming along to stay at my sister's house and babysit all the children and she only too well understands that we parents need to have time out to indulgently hang out in pubs. Just like we were still 20. And childless. And with nothing else to spend out money on other than boozing it up at the local boozer.

Just in case I choose to have more than two glasses of wine and can actually make it to three without puking I will be taking along some Berocca's and a bag full of snacks to help with the hangover I may possibly have the following day.

My sister who can't cope with more than 1 glass of wine says it's the best fun ever. Mostly just because there's people who get dressed up in ridiculous costumes and do nothing but make fools of themselves after they've drunk so much they can no longer stand up straight. That'll be the highlight for me.

While we're there Henry will get to sit on the stationary ride on mower for several hours and his weekend will be complete. Maya will spend time with her girl cousins down behind the shed talking about boys. Sounds like a perfect weekend for everyone.

Perhaps I should start learning how to pray

He broke the umbrella right after he finished lying beneath it.


I haven't posted for a while because of lack of time and also because Henry hasn't done anything cute worth writing about for some time. Lately he's been nothing but painful. The day time naps seem to be coming a thing of the past and as a result he's usually screeching and climbing the furniture like a feral cat by 4PM. He is going to bed earlier but not by much and a couple of evenings has even just gone and taken himself off there after his bath. I'll be getting his dinner ready and turn around and he will have disappeared into his bed and be fast asleep. That's a bonus I guess but the lead up to that is enough to test the strength of anyone's parenting skills.

The thing is that he knows when he's been naughty and sometimes will even just send himself to the naughty corner where he stays until he thinks he's been there long enough and comes to me looking all forlorn and says "sorry Mama".

I've just made a trip to the supermarket and took Henry with me. He and I are both tired today and both very cranky as a result. He seemed to sense that there was a limit to how much bad behaviour I was willing to accept today and was ever so patient with me. He even stayed close to me instead of running up and down the aisles as he usually does. I'd promised him a matchbox car if he behaved and so as we edged ever closer to that aisle, which he knows intimately, he started to show signs of becoming resltess. I stopped moving and gave him the glare. He immediately calmed down. Once we got to the cars he was only willing to look at the $13 box of five but the deal I'd made with him was for 1 car only. He wasn't happy with that and refused to even look at the offerings I placed before him. He started to scream and I started to walk away. He turned to follow me and said "no worries mum, I don't need a car". It was at that moment that I knew that most of the following through on most of the consequences I set had paid off. He even remained relatively calm until we got out of there and into the parking lot where he somehow thinks he will never get hit by a passing car.

Now I am going to clean up the yoghurt he's spilled all over the floor and hang the load of washing in the machine, wash the dishes, prepare the marinade for the meat that is to go in tonight's currt...and then...there's never much point wishing that after all that there'll be time to rest because....because life isn't like that.

Behold...

This is one of the only pieces of furniture that I now own that was not owned by several people before me. I feel so...grown up.

Ben and I decided it was time to invest in a dining suite that was safe, functional and liked by us both. We thought it would be easy. We had an idea about what we wanted but no idea about how hard it would be to decide between several that were similar but slightly different. This is what we finally settled on.

It got delivered this afternoon. Henry was excited because I was. The delivery van pulled up and Henry starts all "ooohhhh hoooo, it's so exciting mum, it's the delivery van". When the guys were unpacking it I told them how excited I was to have it. They both looked at me like I was some kind of deprived weirdo. I explained that it was one of the first pieces of furniture I've bought that hasn't belonged to someone else before me and cost more than $50. "Oh" he said. "No wonder you're so excited". And then they left.

Henry and I were left to climb all over it, sit on the chairs, pull them from the table, run our hands over the table top and then sit down and pretend we were eating the most delicious meal ever at the grandest table in the whole wide world!

I feel like a real adult now.

When Nana is way better than Mama

Henry spent Thursday night with my mother. He'd been there all day with her while I went to work. When I went to collect him he didn't want to come home. He outrightly refused. "No I'm staying at Nana's house tonight, Mum". So I left him and returned to collect him early for swimming lessons the following morning. I found them eating breakfast, having just woken at 8AM. Henry loudly proclaimed that he wasn't going to swimming lessons either because he was staying with Nana. I had to almost force his swimming costume on him and drag him out the door. As soon as swimming lessons were over he insisted on going back there because he just had to "tell Nana about swimming lessons". We stopped in and had a cup of tea and he overheard me telling her that I needed to get some things from the shop. Before I had even finished he said "bye mum, see you soon" waved me off and ran out to play with his cars.

So I left him there again while I went to the shops and when I returned to collect him this time he still refused to come home with me. I had to bribe him with a small toy I had bought while at the shops to get him in the car. Ever since then he will not do anything without having to tell Nana about it or ask her first if it's ok. Before bed last night he had to call Nana to say good night. He wouldn't eat breakfast this mornning without saying he had to ask Nana if he could have it. Even ice cream deserves a good telling to Nana.

Henry would be quite happy if I dropped dead and he had to live there like, forever.

Rant

I am unable to understand why it is acceptable when writing an email or sending a text message to omit salutations or any type of anything that would be normally considered polite.

I am so fed up with it and sometimes feel like completely ignoring those who do such a thing. Right now I have a couple of things for sale on ebay. Of course people like to ask questions about these things. What they can't do when asking those questions is say hi, or hello or use a question mark or spell correctly. Nor can they even bother to sign off with thanks or sign off at all.

My sister recently sold a car and advertised it with her mobile phone number as the contact. Most people sent her a text message that went something like this - "wots ur lowest price" - no hello, no thanks, no "I'm interested in your car, do you mind if I ask a few questions", no correct spelling. Not even the energy to bother dialling the number. Of course she ignored those people but two of them continued to text her with the same question.

Are we too busy? Do we just not know how to be polite anymore? Do we just not care anymore? Is it universally accepted and so I should just take it like a man and ignore it?

It's not in my nature to be rude and so I can't do it but I really, really want to.

Raising a perfect child

I sometimes wonder whether or not I'm being a good enough Mum. As I've mentioned before it's not the easiest job in the world and one that is fraught with challenges. Trying to raise even tempered, well behaved but brilliant children is a full time job in itself but when one has to work at some kind of paid employment to help pay the bills one is always racked with guilt over the time not spent teaching the children how to behave and remain even tempered.

I remarked to Henry's daycare teachers that we use the naughty corner at home which works brilliantly. They asked me why. Of course I looked at them dumbfounded because EVERYONE knows what the naughty corner is for thanks to the Nanny. They told me they don't use one at daycare and that Henry would certainly never need it there if they did because he's always so good and so perfectly well behaved and just so smart.

I left there feeling that perhaps I was doing an ok job after all if they thought he was so perfect. I did wonder though why it all turns to hell in a handbasket when we get home.

Mother's Day Update

I had a wonderful day. I attempted to sleep in but with a child who only wants his mama it didn't last long. Maya presented me with a beautiful photo album full of photos of me with my loving children. I then went to breakfast and the movies and came home to a delicious meal prepared by my loving husband.

Just the Mother's Day I wanted.

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day tomorrow just in case some of you had forgotten. Don't know how you could with the endless amount of advertising telling you that you should spend up big on your mother.

Mother's Day for me is far more important than my birthday, Christmas or Easter. Not because I might get a gift, which is in fact the last thing I expect or want, but because it's the one day I can say is MINE. Invented just for me because I'm a mother now. I can refuse to get out of bed, cook, clean and even ignore the pleas for attention. I think of Mother's Day as the one day I can make my children and husband grateful for everything I do by being as ignorant and unavailable as possible.

I read and hear about all the celebrity mum's who get labelled supermum's because they can afford to hire a few full time nanny's while they continue the comparatively easy job of earning a living. They're all like "being a mother is the most wonderful thing in the world and my kids are the most precious things on earth". It's true, they are the most precious things on earth and they are the most wonderful thing that will ever happen but being a mother is not the easiest thing to do.

A few years after I had Maya I stumbled across a book called "The Heartache of Motherhood". It was written by a woman who used to be a magazine editor. After I found it I wanted to meet that woman and kiss her and hug her and tell her I loved her. She had very succinctly put into words all the feelings I had about motherhood. She told me it was ok to admit that you sometimes didn't like it. One line stuck in my head and it went something like this: I love my children and would walk in front of a bus for them but I don't always like being their mother.

She had written about her career, marriage and her desire to have children and how all those things changed after she became a mother. She had four children in the 60's and 70's, she baked, made clothes, became a tuckshop lady, worked from home and did all the right things but she never felt fulfilled ever again as a person in her own right. She started to despise her husband because his life went relatively unchanged but hers had been irrevocably altered.

She wrote about how people only ever told her how wonderful motherhood was and that it was something everyone had to do. No one ever told her how difficult doing the most simple things would become - taking a shower, writing a letter, talking on the phone, grocery shopping, sleeping. No one ever told her that shops were not designed to make it easy for women with children pushing strollers or that your children might scream and howl at all hours of the night or that you would never again enjoy a warm meal or a whole glass of wine or talk of anything that wasn't baby related.

After her children all left home and developed their own successful careers and had their own children she left her husband. In her day they didn't do much of anything to help out (sometimes still don't) and she despised him too much for the changes he hadn't made. They remained friends but things had been altered and they would never again be the same for her.

So when Mother's Day rolls around tomorrow I will be lying in my bed with the blankets pulled up and my ear plugs in and I will ignore. I will take all the mothering I give to others and savour it for myself. I will join my mother and sister for breakfast and leave my children at home. I will go to the movies and I will ignore the dishes, the washing, the mess and the screams. For one day I will be oblivious to the demands and the howls - at least until I get home from the movies. The peace only lasts for as many hours as you can stay away from home. I miss them when I'm not with them but at the same time I sometimes just wish they would hire a nanny.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mother's I know. You've done a fantastic job and you can give yourselves a pat on the back for making it this far, however far that is. It's ok to sometimes just sit and cry or scream into your pillow or even to tell your kids to shut the hell up for five minutes. You're only human after all.

For those who couldn't see it

Something New but recycled

Thanks to some very generous friends Henry has a new toy. Already it's performed countless rescues and we've only had it for two hours!

Goodbye Kitty

This morning we said goodbye to kitty. Henry, Maya and I packed up our things and left the house after kissing him one last time and pulling the away the burs from his fur that he had no energy to remove himself. It was Ben who stayed behind to pack that kitty into a box and transport him to the vet who would inject him with magic sleep serum and send him to a nice safe place that doesn't know the meaning of the word pain.

Death, intended or not leaves an empty feeling behind it. One minute there's a breathing, living being with personality and feelings and the next minute it's simply a shell. That kitty had a pretty luxury filled twelve years before some mysterious kitty illness left him devoid of energy and spark. He spent his first four or five years being dressed up and carted around in a dolls pram by Maya. He did it with dignity and pride. He never once lashed out at her when he felt she'd pushed the boundaries of their friendship too far. He simply got up and walked away bonnet and all and found a hiding place to recover. Just when he thought he'd be able to live out his retirement years in relative peace along came Henry. That big bushy tail was an attraction to that small crawling creature and it was often grabbed and pulled with the type of yank only a baby can manage. Still that kitty didn't lash out. He just sighed and lay down until boredom lured Henry away to something else.

When I returned home this afternoon there was no kitty to nudge my leg until I fed him, no kitty to slump down at our feet as we watched TV and no kitty to swear at for leaving furballs all over my black pants.

We already miss that kitty and it's going to be weird to wake up tomorrow and not see him sitting at the door waiting to be let in for breakfast.

The New Fireman Sam Getup

Put the fires out Elvis. I think you've done it. Great job!

All I want to do is shop

Henry came home from Charlotte's birthday party with a handmade Dora backpack which he now uses as his shopping bag. Up until then he was using one of my old handbags. He'd take it into the pantry and fill it with assorted things and get his wallet (filled with play money) head over to his play cash register and we'd have to "shop".

He still does this each and everyday and usually only minutes after he wakes up in the morning. He now gets the purple Dora backpack and fills it with assorted things from the pantry and tells me, while I'm still half asleep and trying to finish my cup of tea, that we need to shop right be because we've run out of milk.

He's very particular about the process that must be followed. He must fill the backpack, take it to the cash register and stack it in a particular fashion (if I mess with the stacking I get an earful)and then I must ring it up and say exactly how much each item is. If I neglect to say the amount he quickly tells me that I forgot to say it was twenty cents.

I am not allowed to put the shopping back in the pantry while he is still awake. It must stay in his bag or stacked up beside the cash register. His wallet must remain at all times in his bag and his "credit cards" must remain at all times in the cash register drawer.

After we've finished shopping we must always read a book about trucks because that's how all shopping trips the world over come to an end.

I need my belt

Believe it or not this is box is a car. Made for Henry by Sissy. She put straps on it so that Henry can step into it and pull the straps over his shoulders, get a paper plate to use as a steering wheel, pack his things into it and drive.



You've all heard of his obsession with Fireman Sam. Since he realised that Fireman Sam wears a black belt on his fireman uniform Henry has insisted that he also have one. He puts on his belt and gets into his car or runs outside to zoom around, pushing his trolley which doubles as a Fire truck and puts out fires. He can do this for hours.

He's also taken to telling me that he can't do things I ask him to because "I'm a bit busy right now". Obviously he's heard me say that during the five minutes per day that I don't spend with him because I'm busy going to the toilet.

Party! Party!

Yesterday Henry attended Charli's second birthday party. He'd been excited about it for days and thought that he may also be lucky enough to receive a whole pile of presents just for attending (and he did).

Carla did a fantastic job. Firstly she was brave enough even to have a party for a two year old. Then she set about organising a Dora The Explorer themed party. She had handmade Dora backpacks filled with an assortment of things, one of which was a map for the kids to follow to get to the Dora Pinata outside. There was a river to cross and a quicksand cave to make it through before they could pull Dora's pinata strings to release a torrent of lollies and whistles. It was so cute to watch the faces of all those two year olds as they tried to comprehend what had just happened.

Henry thoroughly enjoyed himself and came home exhausted. Thank you Carla and Charli for a wonderful day. Don't expect us to be having a party any time soon though. Henry's got to be old enough to organise it himself and pay for it before he'll be allowed to party hard at home.

Water Shortage

Like everyone else, I'm wishing it would rain. I wish it would rain for days and days. The grass, trees and shrubs look like they'd go up in flames and then wipe out the whole city with one massive fire if anyone lit a match or threw a cigarette aside.

I'm trying hard to use as little water as possible and recycle what I can. We have a timer in the bathroom to ensure everyone sticks to the four minute shower rule. I keep Henry's bath water and throw it on the plants (by the way there's something in Johnsons baby bath that the plants love), I fill a bucket with water from the washing machine and throw that on the garden too but it barely seems to make a difference. Everything is just so dry and brittle. It's like the world is tired.

Before Maya was born her Dad and I bought a 126 acre property a little way north of Brisbane but thirty kilometres from the nearest town. On that property was an A-Frame house. A tiny wee house big enough to swing a cat but not much else. In that house had lived a widow and her four strapping sons. They had lived there for many years without any form of running water and no dam and no water storage devices of any kind. When we went to inspect the property we noted that they had about 50 four litre orange juice bottles filled with water lined up on the kitchen floor. Apparently when they went to town to do their fortnightly shop they took the bottles and filled them with town water from the local park. They didn't shower because there was no bathroom to speak of and no running water in the house. I didn't bother to ask them how they kept themselves clean because I really didn't want to know. The Matriarch did all the clothes washing by hand in a bucket and then put the water out for the ten mangy dogs to drink after she'd finished with it.

There were old car bodies strewn about the place and a shed literally filled with nesting rats. The place was a mess, but it was cheap and it had the most magical view over the valley.

The first thing we did when we moved in was to organise an excavator to dig a massive dam in a low where the creeks all met. Then we waited for it to rain. In the mean time we bought an aluminium water tank and paid to have it filled with water and then gravity fed it to the house. This meant we were able to at least wash dishes and clothes and clean our teeth. With no shower or bathroom facilities yet installed we showered outside with a camp shower strung up beneath the frangipanni tree. They were possibly some of the best showers I have ever had. A view of the moutains in front, lush tropical bush behind and no visible neighbours.

Maya was born in that house, well not born there but born into it. She was a delightful bush baby. Every day we took her for bush walks strapped in the backpack on our backs. She'd fall asleep to the sound of the Butcher Bird who followed us around on our walks. She was also born into a home where effort was required just to fill a bathtub with water. For some time after we finally purchased a bath tub we just sat it outside on the front deck overlooking the mountain and plugged it up and filled it with water from a bucket and lay in there taking a bath under the stars. She loved it. We left there when she was not quite two so she does not remember it. I remember well though the difficulties of getting and keeping water. When we moved back to the city it was such a novelty to be able to turn on a tap and just let it run. Each and every time I did though I felt guilty. I felt wasteful. It was such a precious commodity once for some time and it seemed ridiculous to me that my neighbours in the city felt no shame in running their sprinklers all night while they slept.

We should have seen the drought coming many years ago and been prepared for it. Once upon a time every home had a tank and then they were told to remove them because of the health hazard they may cause. Now the councils are paying people to install them once again.

Maybe they should insist everyone gets themselves 50 four litre orange juice bottles.

Bloomin' Hang Nail

Henry has this thing about hangnails. He just can't bear to have one for longer than a few seconds. When he does he says "I got a hangnail. I need to get the clippers".

Tonight while he was bathing I decided to cut my toenails. When he saw me with the clippers he jumped out of the bath, came running over all sudsy and wet and said "Mum, have you got a bloomin' hang nail?". He inspected my toenails as if he were specially trained in detecting rogue hang nails and passed over each one until he got to the one I had not correctly cut. "Oh, I'll get it" he cried out and then just grabbed that thing and ripped it right off my toe and threw it in the bin.

Finger Update

It turns out the doc thinks Maya's fingers weren't broken but just a little sprained. Because he understands the importance a bandage plays in extracting endless amounts of sympathy he wrapped it up good so it looks like it could be really very serious. It's on her left hand so unfortunately she has no excuse for not doing her schoolwork and that upset her more than the pain, oh the pain.

In other news; we've invested in a VOIP phone which for a small monthly fee gives us endless amounts of local and national calls free. Well of course they're not free because we pay a small monthly fee but imagine making all those harassing phone calls I wanted to make but didn't because I thought they'd cost me money.

There's always something to break the peace

And it usually comes in the form of a phone call from a teenager who knows you're at home for the day instead of at work.

Somehow she miraculously manages to break a bone/come down with the worst bout of stomach bug ever/ bang her head/ whatever it may be that would require a phone call to me to make sure I'm not enjoying my time alone at home and that I have to leave the house like right now.

I had the day off today. Not because I wanted to but because there was just nothing to do at work. While I sighed heavily about the loss of a days pay I was secretly pleased because it meant I could have some alone time. Henry would be at daycare, Ben would be at work and Maya would be at school.

I walked my adorable children to their respective drop off zones this morning and walked home feeling somewhat excited about ALL THAT TIME ALONE! Because I was also feeling a little domesticated I came home and cleaned...for a bit anyway.I also shopped for food despite promising that I never would again. I wouldn't go as far as to say it was a pleasurable experience but it was at least without panic. I was able to get in there, fill the trolley and get out in under twenty minutes. I didn't have a toddler to save from the traffic in the carpark or to stop filling the trolley with novelty truck shaped biscuit tins. There was no teenager asking me to buy mascara's and 45 different varieties of chocolate drinks and expensive hair shampoos. I got it home and packed without the toddler and the teenager opening everything before I'd even had a chance to get it out of the car. Sounds like heaven doesn't it.

I washed several piles of dirty clothes, vacuumed the floors and the car and prepared dinner. It's amazing how easy those simple things are when there's no one else to distract you. I even drank a whole hot cup of tea, ate several pieces of chocolate and talked the council guys into feeding some of our tree trimmings into their mulching machine. I think they were disappointed I didn't have more. I almost told them to go right ahead and just cut down all the overgrown trees in our yard and mulch them to a bloody pulp.

I looked up at the clock just after 1PM and knew the countdown had begun. There were only two short hours of peace left in which I could start to read the hundreds of gossip magazines that were left on my back porch by my elderly neighbour over a week ago.

Just as I flipped to the page that would tell me all about how to avoid developing an eating disorder but still be as thin as Lindsay Lohan the phone rang.

"Mum, it's me, I broke my fingers, can you come and get me or should I get the bus?"

"Get the bus, nothing you can do for a broken finger anyway. I'm about to kick start my new diet which includes lots of rest and perhaps some illegal drugs so if you don't mind I'll see you when you get home"

"Ok, well I'll just hobble home, drag my really heavy bag behind me. The girls at school say you can die from a broken finger. They read about a girl in a magazine who once broke her finger and died three days later".

"Really? Her mum must be really mean. Maybe she didn't take her to the hospital in time. Maybe she didn't even bother picking her up from school and made her catch the bus home".

We didn't really have that exact conversation and I may be the meanest mother on the planet but since she was laughing while talking to me and the last time she supposedly had a broken finger it turned out it was just a little bruised. She didn't complain too loudly about catching the bus and I promised to meet her at the bus stop with the car but I didn't want to cut into my OWN TIME because I had eating disorders to learn about.

Worst Shopping Trip EVER

I just got back from the shopping centre. My all time least favourite place. I had to go because I needed to purchase something special. Something I hope the receiver will enjoy. I kind of knew what I wanted so I headed out early in the hope that I would miss all the other shoppers who also had to buy something special.

I took Henry with me as his Dad had to go to service the computer of someone who may be an online gambler. Of that I can't be sure. But what it meant was that Henry could not stay home. I had to do the thing I hate most with a child in tow.

Henry had already been to the toilet earlier in the morning and I thought there would be little chance he'd have to go again before I got home. I wasn't planning on being there forever so I left home without any spare underpants or wipes or any of the usual emergency supplies I take along.

While I was in the store, a rather crowded specialist store, Henry very loudly declared that he had a poo in his pants. "Mum, I've got a poo in my undies!". I looked up completely embarrassed to see him waddling over to me, hunched over in the hope that the poo wouldn't stick and might somehow miraculously disappear.

All faces were on me, and my son. Everyone had literally stopped what they were doing and had turned to me to gauge how I might react to this bit of news. I wanted to tell them all that it was just a bit of poo, there was nothing to see, they could all get back to what they were doing because the poo, well it was nicely tucked into his elasticated undies and was not about to fall out at their feet and germ the place up.

Since I'd already found what I wanted I decided that I was just going to pay for it and make Henry wait because after I'd gone to the bathroom to clean him up I was hotfooting it out of that centre. He stood there beside me at the checkout all hunched over with a stench strong enough to kill an already dead rabbit. He calmly waited until I was ready and then we walked slowly to the bathrooms. I'll spare you the cleaning up details but let's just say I was extremely thankful that the bathrooms were free at that moment.

I've learned my lesson. I will never go shopping again. Ever. Not even when I've run out of food.

What's so good about Good Friday?

Well for a start I managed to make my mother happy by going to family day at church with her even though I was tired because I'd been up half the night throwing stones at the possums who must have been fighting off male suitors through the night on the roof right above our bedroom. Of course there was lots of talk at church about how one cannot be complete without Jesus but he was obviously feeling generous because I left with a free bag of Brumby's chocolate hot cross buns.

My mother also has a new car, a very fancy electronic seat type new car. I got to drive it home from church because, well I guess Jesus was feeling very, very generous. Henry hadn't yet seen the car but had heard about and given his obsession with all things with wheels he insisted on being taken for a drive back to Nana's house in it after she dropped me home. He got strapped into the luxurious leather seats and was whisked off with Nana and Richie and treated royally at their home for a couple of hours while Ben and I whipped around the floors with the vacuum cleaner. I know, I know, I can hear the jealousy in your voices. I am sooooo lucky!

Later I dropped Maya and her friends to the movies and after collecting Henry on the way home and borrowing my mother's long handled tree trimmers we chopped back some overgrown bushes. Now we have an enormous pile of tree branches that we are considering dumping in the jungle of the empty home next door. I'm sure they wouldn't notice what with the pile of uncollected mail and the family of mountain lions that have moved in.

Henry, who hadn't slept all day fell asleep on the couch at 5PM, Maya left with a friend for a sleepover and Ben went off to parts unknown to service the computer of an online gambler. That was my cue to crack open a bottle of wine and start...well you know...drinking.

Henry is all excited about the impending Easter Bunny visit but fortunately he does not yet understand the whole concept of marketing and the need to improve profit margins by placing Easter eggs in the supermarkets immediately after Christmas,so the Easter Bunny has left me with only one chocolate bunny and two small eggs to leave in his Easter nest.

Happy Easter everyone.

Ms Manager manages to avoid pool ghoul conversation

So I go to the pool today to take Henry to swimming lessons and I run into Ms Manager as I check in. A little small talk ensured about the weather and what day Henry is booked in next term and blah blah blah. I'm so thinking in my head about what to say about this .

She checks my card and notes that we haven't been for a couple of weeks.

"No". I say. "Last week I had some skin infection..."

She cuts me off mid sentence ..."Oh, that's no good is it love"

"No" I say. "It's not. I..."

"Well, we'll see you next term" and I'm dismissed.

That's it, end of conversation. No time to talk about oozing infections and how they may have been contracted.

Henry and I head for the pool. We get in, ready to start the lesson which always follows the same routine and starts with Crocodile, Crodile on the wall. Just as Henry is about to spectacularly dive towards me with his arms outstretched I glance over to see the legs of a small child, not much bigger than Henry. I notice that his legs are covered in some kind of pool ghoulish rash that looked strangely similar to mine. I have to look away though in order to save my son, who had almost made it to the bottom of the pool because I wasn't looking, from drowning. When I look back the kid is gone. I want to jump out of the pool and track down the mother and tell her that her child is possibly spreading some kind of horrible bacterial germ, infecting other poor innocent children...and their parents.

I then realise that perhaps that child got it at the pool too, maybe the mother doesn't realise that's where it might have come from and hasn't realised that by continuing to bring him there while he's covered in it will just spread it. I want to track her down and scream at the top of my voice that he be quarantined.

I was over it by the time we got to the tunnel game in which I am supposed to force my disinterested 2 year old to chase a ball through a tunnel fashioned from a yoga mat. Throughout the entire lesson today Henry chose to act like a bored teenager. He refused to even consider doing the things that were asked of him and instead decided that he was going to do the opposite of whatever the teacher said. He breathed a heady sigh of relief when the final "grand old Duke of York" horse rides on the noodle signalled the end of the half hour.

The day only got better from there. Well between the hours of 11AM and 3Pm at least. We went to visit Carla and Charli and McKenzie where we ate lashings of home made cheesecake (thanks Carla - it was absolutely scrumptious) and ran around the house scarring each other to within an inch of our lives.

Morning Shots...1 2 3...to kick start the day

And it's only a plastic storage box.

This is Henry's newest and most favourite way of having a bath. We have only a shower and up until Maya came up with the bright idea of filling the tub that usually holds his hundreds of matchbox cars with water and letting him languish till his hearts content he was satisfied with a quick shower.

He gets into that thing and then won't get out. I have to bribe him with a spoon full of "kintella" (nutella) to get him to even hang one leg over the edge. He'll stay in there until he resembles a flaky prune. He puts his cars in and washes them then starts on the shampoo bottles. He insists that whoever is in there supervising him must read several hundreds of books all to his choosing. It must be just the right temperature and have no less than five squirts of baby soap in it and the supervisor must not, under any circumstances, join him in song. If he starts to sing five little ducks he wants to do it alone. The supervisor is allowed to sit, only on the stool, but must not do anything other than read the books he has first approved.

I should be grateful that he considers a square plastic storage box to be the equivalent of a porcelain spa bath complete with gold fittings.

Pool Ghoul

Lately I've been thinking about the psychology behind modern day conversation. It might be just me and in actual fact probably is but a lot of conversations I have, even with complete strangers such as the sales assistant at the local bakery, are all pre-played in my mind before I have them. I feel the need these days to ensure that the words that come out of my mouth has been studied and cleansed of anything that could possibly be considered offensive, defensive, rude, racist, accusatory, selfish, ignorant or nosey.

This morning for instance I've been rearranging words in my head that I need to tell the manager of the pool where Henry goes to swimming lessons. She's done nothing wrong and is in fact a very nice person if not a little dismissive at times. You see I developed some horrid rash along my arms and lower back and I had no idea what had caused it. I never get rashes and have never had an allergic reaction to anything before that might have caused it. I ignored it and hoped it would go away. It didn't. It festered and blistered and got itchy and sore. I went to the doctor who told me it was folliculitis - an infection of the hair follicles caused by heat and synthetic clothing or heated pools and spas. Since I rarely wear synthetic clothing and on the rare occasions that I have in the past have never developed such a rash I assumed it may have come from the heated pool at which Henry has his lessons but I don't know that for sure.

I have antibiotics, usually prescribed for severe acne, which is clearing the problem up but I don't want to go to swimming lessons this morning in case it flares up again and also in case I transmit it to someone else. I also had surgery on my shoulder last Wednesday and don't want to risk getting that infected. Anyway I wanted to call the pool and tell them I wouldn't be coming this morning but I also feel I should mention the folliculitis to them but I'm unsure how to bring it up without sounding like I'm accusing them of infecting me. I'm not angry about it and I have no proof that it was the pool that did it to me but I feel I need to let them know in case someone else gets it. It's not nice and definitely unattractive, especially when it's making your bum spotty like the face of an acne prone teenager.

Give me some advice people. Run that conversation over in your mind and flip some words around and give me your final version.

Student of the week AND a job

And this is where I get to act like the proud mother.

Last week Maya scored a Student of the Week Award and a part time job at McDonalds all on the same day.

In her interview at McDonalds they asked her what her favourite subject was and what the teacher of that subject has to say about her. She was able to very proudly report that earlier that same day the teacher of her favourite subject (History) had awarded her Student of the Week.


Now the job thing makes me VERY proud because she will now be able to sink her own dollars into her other passion...fashion.

Views from the Mountain

Wedding Cake by Miss Susan (Sister of the Groom)