Post apocalypse living

I have spent the last three days living in upheaval.  We are having new floors laid and while I am absolutely delighted that it is finally being done, I am not enjoying having to live around the work.

For two days I had to move the fridge if I wanted to access the dishwasher, then again to access the washing machine, then again to get out the back door.

It was annoying.

The kitchen is finished (hurrah!) and the fridge is back where it belongs.  However we don’t have a dining table or any lounge room furniture while those two areas are being done. It’s a tad inconvenient. Add to that I have had the care of FOUR children for the past three days* and have been trying to feed and water them from a skeleton kitchen (with movable fridge) you can imagine I’m a tad frazzled. All I want to do is stick a DVD on and sit them in front of it.  Except we have no TV or DVD player currently hooked up so that can’t happen. 

So up until now I have been a firm believer that I will be a survivor of the zombie apocalypse – I even did the Facebook quiz on that topic (and scored very well).  I’m now beginning to doubt my post apocalyptic abilities.  I think I’ll just let the zombies get me.

*Yes I do recognise the appalling lack of planning that teamed up four children with floors being laid.  But thanks for noticing.

Plague House

I make no secret of (or apology for) the fact that I love winter.  It’s by far my favourite season, and yes, even when in the icy, grey, rainy, windy climes of Scotland it was still my favourite.  I would sooner tolerate freezing cold than heat any day.  In fact, I’ve also made no secret of the fact I loathe the heat.  My legion of long time readers will attest to this. But that’s another post (or several, come summer when the whining will commence).

This winter however has been one of the worst for ‘winter ailments’ in our family.  It seems like every two or three weeks another round of sore throats, coughs and sniffles descends upon us and Tom and I are either a) taking sick leave because we’re actually ill ourselves or b) taking ‘carer’s leave’ because one, or both, of the girls has it.

Once again I had to ring work this morning and make an apology for my absence due to a sick child.  Of course this means a day spent fussing and fetching and carrying and mopping the fevered brow of the little darling.  Fortunately she’s sick enough that she is actually lying quietly reading and has been doing that for the last three hours.  I hate the days that they perk up by lunchtime and annoy the bejesus out of me for the rest of the day.  I’m a great parent as you can see.

The upside is there was time for a blog post.  

Pay Back Time

I mentioned last week that Tom and I were child-free for a few days.  It was quite pleasant.  Although I was working I still felt as though I was having a little holiday.  I had no-one to worry about but myself, I could get up in the morning, have my coffee and read my emails then wander off and have a leisurely shower, get ready for work, have another coffee and an uninterrupted chat with Tom before getting into the car and driving to work in silence.   In the evenings I’d arrive home, Tom would hand me a glass of wine and we’d discuss our day, then we’d eat dinner and on two nights we even had time to watch a DVD and STILL get to bed at reasonable time. 

However, (there’s always a ‘however’ isn’t there?) last night on my way home from work I stopped and picked up our nephews who will be staying with us for the weekend.  You may recall that this is an arrangement we have with Tom’s brother and his wife.  The difference is that this time I will be looking after the four children on my own.  It might feel a bit like this….

Tom is away all day today and all day tomorrow.  I don’t really mind, they’re good children and don’t give me any trouble.  The noise levels sometimes need to be controlled but apart from that it’s easy. 

So in the space of 24 hours I’ve made the transition from no kids to four kids.  I have to say, although I did enjoy a peaceful week there’s nothing nicer than seeing their sweet little faces.  Especially when they’re asleep. 

It's not Sunday yet

By my reckoning I still have 3 hours and 10 minutes to get this post in without ruining my NaBloPoMo credibility.

Well. We went. I have been up since 4.45, it's been a long day and I'm exhausted - seriously, it has been non-stop. I've just (finally) put the girls to bed, I read them a story each and Aislin was asleep in about 45 seconds flat. Then I tidied the kitchen and loaded the dinner dishes into the dishwasher. I was just about to have a well deserved glass of wine and a mince pie (yes, I know mince pies in November, it's obscene) and put my feet up when I thought 'Holy crap I still have to do an effing blog post' 'oh! I must remember to do a blog post'.

So here I am.

Did I mention it's been a long day? Yeah, thought so.

So the Pageant. We got there at 6.15 and still didn't get a front row seat. However we did get a second row position and we had some very nice and considerate people in front of us who were actually aware that they weren't the only people that wanted to see it (unlike other years) so didn't block the childrens' view or wear big hats or erect 5 room tents right in front of us (hey, it could happen!).

I have things to report but not tonight, I'm making lots of typos and keep having to rewrite incoherent sentences ('what's new?' you cry). So tomorrow I shall write a lengthy report on today's events.

Here's a teaser....

Oh and in case you're wondering, yes there were a few clown moments. Only one ended in tears (yes, mine....I'm not proud of being a big baby) but am I the only person that can see these unholy abominations for what they truly are....you look me in the eye and tell me this thing isn't on the attack......{{shudder}}....

I'm going to have nightmares about this one tonight. And I'm home alone.....eeep!

Friday Fever

Woohoo! It's Friday!! The weekend! I'm delighted. We're having Sushi for dinner tonight, then when the girls have gone to bed Tom and I will relax, perhaps watch movie and have another glass of wine (to follow the one we'll have with the Sushi).

There is only one little blot on the otherwise crystal clear horizon that is my weekend and that is....... The Pageant. I hate the Pageant. Some of you may remember this post from last year. I like the idea and I love doing that kind of stuff with the girls but for me, with 'the phobia' and the whole having-to-get-up-while-it's-still-dark-drive-35k-then-sit-waiting-for-4-hours-with-a-bunch-of-clowns-tormenting-me, I'm frankly not keen. I don't know what to do. The girls want to go, they're not making a fuss which kind of makes it worse. I feel like the worst the mother in the world for even contemplating not taking them. Also, if we decide to go I'm going to have to spend a considerable amount of time this evening packing provisions and chairs and entertainment into the car (you need something to do during the LONG wait). I just don't know if I can take it in my already fragile emotional state. Tom suggested we go every second year, but since we didn't tell them that it seems a pity to spring that plan on them now.

Am I being selfish? Probably.

It's not like it's the only Pageant they'll go to, there is the small local one which they are actually participating in, but it is small. And kind of lame compared to THE PAGEANT!!!! I personally prefer the small one because parking is easier, there are loads of cafes open because it's not 6am and one year Santa was drunk. So cool. And funny. What? The kids didn't know, they just thought he was slapstick-falls-over-a-lot-Santa. They liked him.

Then of course there's the other thing about The Pageant. It officially marks the start of 'The Christmas Season'. It's just something else to fill me with woe because you see....and now I'm really opening a can of worms, but here goes......I don't like Christmas. There I said it. I have my own reasons for not liking it which I may talk about at some point but the fact is I could happily do without it. For me it is utterly meaningless. Bah humbug.

However I have children, they love it and they want to go to The Pageant....come full circle haven't we?

Tomorrow's post may or may not have a photo of a clown and perhaps one of me being administered oxygen...or Last Rights...one of the two.

Sad

Today has been hard. The girls' school held 'Grandparent's Day' and all the Grandmas and Grandpas were invited to come to the school. There was a morning assembly with several entertaining presentations and some singing by the school choir, then the grandparents all went to the classrooms of their grandchildren to see their work and meet their teachers, then there was a morning tea.

My children only have one set of grandparents, my Mum and Dad are no longer with us. Unfortunately Tom's parents don't live in Adelaide so we had no grandparents attending. Because I didn't want the girls to have no-one there I went along. When it was time to visit the classes I went to Aislin's first, sadly she was the only one that didn't have at least one grandparent there. She took my hand and led me round the room, showing me all her work that was displayed, then she took me to her desk and went through every workbook telling me all about it. None of this was new to me, I drop her at school every day and we always look at her latest work - but she showed me it all again anyway because the teachers said they should and all the other kids were showing their grandparents. The teacher went round taking photos of the kids with their grandparents, Aislin watched this for a while then whispered 'Mummy, can we have a photo?' I think it was at that point my heart broke.

After that we went to Hannah's class and did it all again. Then it was over, the children said goodbye to everyone and they went off to play. The adults were invited through to the morning tea but by then it was more than I could stand so I slipped out.

It goes without saying that I miss my Mum and Dad every single day. But days like this make it almost unbearable.

Mondegreens and more screen printing

In my family there are a few tales of mondegreens, especially those committed (does one commit a mondegreen?) by my Dad, who always ended up preferring his version over the correct one. I could bore you with quite a few but as they are always better when presented verbally I'll limit it to two. The reason I thought of them was because this morning as we drove to school Aislin was in the back listening to an iPod and singing loudly and tunelessly along. She particularly enjoys a boppy song by Shakira that has a line that goes 'I'm at your fee-e-eet'. I nearly snorted my takeaway coffee down my nose when I heard Aislin sing 'I'm a trap-ee-ee-ze'. It reminded me of a lyrical faux pas of my own when I was about her age. We were out driving in the car as well and I was in the back singing 'Onward Christian Soldiers' very loudly (I come from a long line of car singers) and I almost caused my Dad to hit a tree when I came to the line 'Christ the royal master leads against the foe' I sang 'Christ the royal martian eats it with a fork'. Made sense to me.

I do have to wonder what kind of miniature religious zealot I was singing such a song while out on a family drive. Not to worry, it obviously didn't last.

Today I was at the school for yet another session of screen printing that I had managed to get roped into vounteered for. Four of the pictures needed to be re-done because an over-enthusiastic father had come in to help and used too much paint causing them to resemble swamp scenes rather than undersea worlds. It was doubly tedious because we had to re-cut all the templates then do the entire thing again (I won't explain further, trust me, it was BORING, FIDDLY and TIME CONSUMING). It was such slow going I could cheerfully have poked my eyes out with a stick but finally we got the first one finished, we stepped back to admire our work and all was good with the world.

We got started on the second one.....some looooong time later after much cutting and blobbing and scraping we once again stepped back and admired. At this point a boy from Hannah's class wandered in to have a look, as he thoughtfully admired the work with us he idly spun a pair of scissors round his finger.....until they flew off and skidded across the painting smudging it right through the middle. I let out a cry and stared in horror at the mess....then I kind of groaned and put my head in my hands (yep, melodramatic - that's me). The poor kid looked as though he might cry and when I raised my head and looked at him my expression must have been somehow frightening because he ran off (he actually did run ha ha ha ha ha..... I mean.. poor kid).

It had taken us two hours to do 2 of the bloody things and now one was ruined. I don't think I'm a cruel person and I know it was an accident but I could have wrapped that ruined painting round his irritating little head. Apparently we're not allowed to do that so I just sulked for a minute then resigned myself to the fact that we'd be doing another session sometime soon. sigh.

Ok, come on.....share your mondegreens......

It's not about winning (the hell it's not)

For the first time in ages we didn't have anything to do this weekend. No parties, family get-togethers or major shopping expeditions and best of all Tom didn't have to work. He's had a lot on lately and has had to bring work home so that he can meet the deadlines. It's tiresome for everyone, especially him. So with a whole weekend to spend at home what did we do? As little as possible of course. We played chess (yes, we are a whole family of geeks), played with Aislin's train set and built a whole town around it out of wooden blocks, baked scones and huddled round the fire to eat them, had a game of Cleudo (I won and Aislin had a tantrum because she wanted to win), napped and generally slothed around. It was fantastic.

There was some excitement when hailstones fell (see, geeks I tells ya).

All in all it was a lovely relaxing weekend.

We played lots of other games too, Go Fish, Old Maid, Snakes and Ladders - all the old favourites. The girls are very skilled at these games and they are sticklers for the rules. There was a lot of 'debate' throughout - card pairs were counted and recounted, spaces moved were checked and checked again. No-one was getting away with anything.

At one point T did raise an eyebrow when I thrashed Hannah at chess then did a demented kind of ecstatic happy dance about it. Ok, I realise she is 8 years old and I'm........well.... I'm older than her and I realise that I have decades more experience playing chess than she does and I realise that it's enjoying the game not winning that's important and I'm the Mummy and so I should set a good sporting example and be a bit more mature about it. But I WON!!!! What can I tell you, I like winning,

I didn't see him shrinking from the spotlight when he beat Aislin at checkers.

Yep, geeks one and all. Competitive geeks at that.

When you are 8

Hannah turned 8 today. I don't know where the years have gone. She made an untimely entrance into the world on the 18th June 2000. She wasn't due to make that entrance until the 4th September. Arriving 11 weeks premature is a rocky start, but she amazed us all. Breathing on her own from the beginning she was a pretty determined little thing. I only got to see her for a moment before they whipped her away to NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). The next time I saw her she looked so small and helpless lying in the incubator with tubes all over her tiny body, she only weighed 1120grams (about 2.5lbs). I thought my heart would break

There were a couple of scares, a heart murmer that they treated but then it opened again, a blood transfusion and endless drugs and treatments to keep her alive. She handled it all - we tried to handle it as best we could, needless to say it was an emotional and stressful time. The worst day was the day I was discharged and I had to leave the hospital without her. From then on we spent all day, every day with her. Sitting beside the incubator with our hands in the openings talking to her, stroking her gently and holding her tiny hands. Eventually we were allowed to hold her for short periods of time and then when she 'graduated' to a special care unit we were able to do normal things like feed and bath her, change nappies and dress her as she built up strength and put on weight. All this time I was expressing milk every 4 hours. I had the alarm set for 3am and Tom would bring me a cup of tea while I sat attached to the electric breast pump, thinking about the dairy cows down the road that were doing pretty much the same thing right now. It was hell, but it was worth it. Each day I'd take those precious containers of milk to the hospital where they kept a frozen supply of them and Hannah would be fed by gavage. Eventually she could have it from a bottle and then, one day, I was able to breastfeed her myself - that was cause for celebration. Nine weeks after she was born we got to bring her home, she weighed 2.5 kilos (5.5lbs), still not very big really.

We are so lucky that Hannah has had no medical problems as a result of her prematurity, it could have been very different. Lots of premature babies have ongoing lung disease, brain bleeds and many, many other physical, mental and developmental problems. Hannah is healthy, happy and energetic. But every time her birthday comes around I can't help but look at her and marvel at how she handled those early days, all the pain and discomfort she must have felt and yet she fought on and survived. She is an amazing child and I love her beyond words.

For her birthday she wanted a Nintendo (I had to ask my sisters what this was and get advice on what to buy). She also wanted her ears pierced. So after school we did this..

Uh oh, am I doing the right thing...?

Too late to change your mind now....brace yourself...

That hurt Mummy.

Of course the pain was momentary and she is now delighted with her sparkly studs. We came home to a slap up birthday dinner and the best ear healing medicine there is....chocolate mud cake.

Happy Birthday Hannah Bear!!

A post about nothing

Yet another car conversation:

Aislin: I can't see nothing.

Me: You mean you can't see anything....

Aislin: No mummy, I can't see nothing.....

Me: Umm, no really, it's anything....the word is anything.....

Aislin: .....silence.....

Me: Do you understand what I'm saying? You know, about the word?

Aislin: (patiently) My imaginery friend is called 'nothing'. I can't see nothing.....do you understand?

Me: Ok. Right you are then.

They don't call it an ex-'curse' -sion for nothing

Today I went on another kindy excursion. I know, I know, what can I tell ya...I'm a glutton for punishment. This time we went to a conservation and wildlife park, on a 40 degree day. Fortunately we had a bit of altitude so it was moderately cooler, there was lots of shade and we had some indoor activities as well, so all in all it could have been worse. The kids loved it and that's all that matters (no, really, I mean that).

Anyway, not only was it another excursion, I was in charge of the same two little monkeys as last time, my own daughter Aislin and her best friend Poppy. This lovely shot will be displayed at their 18th birthday parties....that should be right after they get home from Brat Camp.

Look pretty innocent don't they? Don't you believe it.

So we walked around the park, seeing all kinds of interesting creatures roaming free. Including this albino kangaroo and her joey (looks like a tight fit).

We saw koalas in every kind of reclining pose....they certainly know how to relax.

We saw creatures majestic...

...and handsome...

...and cute.....

...and slithery....

....and spikey......

My little charges nearly drove me to distraction with their constant 'can I have my drink please?', 'I'm hungry now', 'my legs are tired', 'I'm hot' and 'can we go see some other animals now?' (this was 30 seconds after we arrived at the current animal). I resisted the urge to drop them into the monitor lizard's enclosure and let them fend for themselves in there for a while. And I won't mention what went through my head when it was dingo feeding time.

Eventually we arrived at school to pick up Hannah and return Poppy to her mother. The girls decided they needed to use the bathroom and we sent them off to do so. This wasn't an irresponsible act (no, really) this is the school these two have been around since their siblings started here 3 years ago, they know it well, they start there themselves next term. They are often to be found in their sisters' classroom making themselves at home or off visiting the principle in her office. Also, the toilets were round the corner, about 30 metres from where we were waiting. Off they went. However after 10 minutes they hadn't returned and the bell had gone and they were nowhere to be found. To cut a long story short we had half the school searching for them and myself and Poppy's mother were beside ourselves with panic. They were eventually found, enjoying the lotions and hair products in the female staff toilets. The only person who hadn't been alerted to their disappearance was the principle. Which was a mistake because it turns out she was the only one that actually knew they were in there, because she had a conversation with them when she'd been there earlier herself. The really annoying thing is that at one stage I went into those toilets and called the girls' names and there was no response! The little monkeys were hiding!

See....Brat Camp....I'm telling you.

Concert number 3

Aislin's Fairy Ballet concert. I'll bet you're wondering how I managed to blur the other children in the picture to protect their anonymity? Sorry, can't say. Ahem.

Also do you notice Aislin's very professional headwear? Ahh tinsel, how I love thee. Hey....those other parents bought those costumes. It took me days hours seconds to put her in a red tutu, wrap some tinsel round her head and tie a poinsettia on her shoulder strap. Shut up.

And the tinsel bracelets just make your friends SOOOO envious.

So today is Hannah's concert. Stay tuned for more mind numbing photos of kids in costumes.

Where have I been?

Even I don't know! I've lost a week again. It could have something to do with getting sick last week (all of us) that was a blurry few days. Then I was trying to write an essay that I have a complete block about. And I mean COMPLETE. I have attempted it 3 times and have written nothing. Not. One. Word. To say I'm panicking is putting it mildly. Somebody help me please. I even offered Tom $1,000 to write it for me. He didn't fall for that one because a) he knows I haven't got $1,000 and b) any money we do have at the moment was earned by him anyway. Foiled again. If anyone out there would like to write my essay for me (sorry, can't pay you) please let me know.

On Sunday we got some more work done in the garden....spring is a busy time isn't it? Tom dug the veggie beds and we planted some tomatoes in two of them. We haven't planted the rest of our summer veg crop yet. We ran out of time. The girls have been given 2 tomato plants each to care for. Let's see if they've inherited my green thumb ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!

School went back yesterday. And not a moment too soon. Despite these holidays being a lot less stressful than the last ones, they were more than ready to get back to school and kindy.

Here's why.........on Monday afternoon I sent them outside to water the tomato plants and they rushed off excitedly. While they did that I fussed around in the kitchen with dinner preparations. After some time I thought I'd better check on them so out I went, only to discover that they had poured water into one of the (still empty) garden beds and stripped to their underwear and were playing in the mud they had created. They were completely covered from head to toe in it! I'd love to say that I behaved like one of those patient mothers that finds such antics humorous and says its just 'kids being kids'. I didn't respond that way at all. I went nuts. I ranted, I raved I shook my fist at a universe that has never provided me with a high pressure hose - I was pretty annoyed. I took them inside one at a time (in a feeble attempt at keeping the mess to a minimum). I put them in the shower first to get the worst of it off then I left them to rot soak in the bath for an hour. The bathroom was ok, is still covered in mud splashes. Then I went in and (a little too vigorously) scrubbed them clean.

At least they did actually water the tomatoes.

To add insult to injury, after all I put up with, yesterday Aislin called me a nerd. Hmph.

Sunday morning

This morning I got up at 9.08am instead of the usual 6.30am, Tom made a pot of coffee and brought me cup as I lounged, cat in my lap, reading the papers. Then I drank more coffee, had a leisurely breakfast and stared out of the window for 10 minutes. Tom decided to go back to bed for an hour and I sat and listened to the silent house.

You've guessed haven't you? The kids aren't here. No, we didn't sell them or even donate them to charity, they are at their cousins' house for the weekend. I've mentioned previously that we have a kind of 'month about' arrangement with Tom's brother and his wife, we have all 4 kids for a weekend one month, they have them the next. Which means every two months we get a child free weekend...and so do my brother and sister-inlaw. The kids get to spend a weekend a month with their cousins, which they love doing. Everybody wins. When I dropped the girls off on Friday afternoon my brother-in-law said to me 'we're so clever doing this'. He's so right.

Yesterday we sat down with a glass of wine to watch a DVD at 4.30 in the afternoon!!!! We managed to watch 2 DVDs yesterday.... uninterrupted. And no-one ate my Jersey Caramels (I ate them all myself which admittedly left me feeling slightly nauseous but that's the price you pay).

When we pick the girls up this afternoon, Tom will take Aislin to a birthday party and I am going to take Hannah to the Butterfly Exhibition at the museum. Our peace will be shattered as we leave the world of the childless couple and get right back into family mode. Tonight I'll be packing the school bags, making packed lunches and ironing school uniforms. The weird thing is I'm really happy about that. I love these weekends but no matter how much we're enjoying ourselves there is something missing. Of course it's great for Tom and I to have some time alone and be able to have conversations that aren't punctuated by children's requests, arguments or accidents, but that's not normal life anymore. We did some shopping yesterday and not once did I have to tell Tom to 'put that back' or 'don't touch that'. He's quite well behaved in shops - unlike his offspring, but it felt a bit strange.

So at approximately 1.30pm Central Standard Time we will step back into the parallel universe of parenthood. Can't wait.

Hug your babies

I have posted previously about my sleep problems and I think I may also have mentioned at some point that Aislin is not a 'good sleeper'. We co-slept with both the girls as babies and even when Aislin was in with us she woke up a lot. Since she was 12 months old she has even more regularly woken up in the night and made sure we woke up too. I'm not sure if she has inherited my sleep issues or if she has sleep issues all her own, but hers, interestingly, coincided with being weaned, so clearly I should still be breastfeeding this child. But I'm not.

A couple of weeks ago she was waking up more than usual, wanting one of us in beside her, Tom gave in a couple of times and it became a 'thing'. I'm not criticising Tom here, I regularly give in too, it's just easier and we all need our sleep. Usually once either of us in in there we fall asleep too and spend the rest of the night uncomfortably squished in her single bed with her - it's not ideal and really sets you up for the next day I can tell you. Anyway, this went on for a week and we finally managed to stop it with a sticker reward for sleeping all night alone and she was fine and very happy and excited about that - the girl loves stickers. Things settled down again.

Last night she woke up at 1.20am and called out to me, I went through and sat on the bed and spoke to her, gave her a cuddle and told her it was time to go back to sleep. She said she wanted me to get in beside her, I explained that I wasn’t going to do that because I was tired and wanted to go back to my own bed (I just didn’t want to start all that again). Anyway, she had a bit of a whine about that and said ‘I just want someone to come into bed and cuddle me’ but I stuck to my guns, gave her another cuddle but said 'no, I'm going back to bed'..... and she starts to whine louder. So then I said she has two choices, she can have another hug and go back to sleep or she can get up and go sit in the lounge room so she’s not waking everyone else up (clever eh?). Would you believe the little madam says she’ll get up? Hmmm, foiled again. So I let her go through and I stand in the hallway (freezing) listening for a while. She’s kind of complaining, but not crying, and I'm thinking I’ve got to be 'strong' with this, so after a while I go and get back into my bed and lie there wide awake listening for her. She’s all quiet. So I wait a bit longer (if anyone reading this is thinking what a cruel bitch I am, I'm ashamed to say you're absolutely right). After 9 minutes (stubborn little besom) I hear her come through and get into her bed. Am I feeling good about this? Do I feel that I 'won'? Am I proud of my ability to bully a 4 year old child into compliance? Absolutely not.

During that 9 minutes my mind went into overdrive (as only a mind can at 1.30am) and I started to think about Madeleine McCann and Pumpkin and how fragile it all is in a world where children can be abandoned or abducted. I thought about all the parents that have lost children in one way or another I realised that if she wasn’t here I would sell my soul for the opportunity to get into bed and give her a cuddle just one more time. And when she’s 16 and doesn’t want me cuddling her all the time I’ll miss the days she did want me. It’s such a short time we'll be ‘inconvenienced’ in this way and really, battling her to sleep alone just wakes everyone up and worst of all it makes her sad. It usually only takes a few minutes for her to get back to sleep but if we fight about it everyone is up, she's upset and I’m awake for hours.

So with my thoughts on all the lost children I got out of bed, went through and climbed in beside her, she snuggled up to me, grabbed my arm and started feeling my ‘cold’ and was happily asleep in minutes. I watched her for a while feeling so grateful for my good fortune, kissed her one more time and went back to bed. Sometimes the rules we make and pressure we put on our children is so stupid and pointless and hurtful to them and us. In the grand scheme of things does it really matter if we sleep in beside them once in a while, or if they won't eat their brocolli or if they don't put their toys away every time or if they eat a bloody rice cracker? No. It doesn't.

Of course because I’d disrupted myself so much I was awake until 4.30am – d’oh - but she slept happily the rest of the night and that is all that matters.

Whinging Wednesday

Ok so I'm about to bitch (and curse) a bit so if you're not in the mood for it or don't like swear words stop reading........here!

So, today I picked up Aislin from kindy and noticed that once again, she hadn't eaten her snack and as soon as she got into the car she's madly opening her lunchbox and asking if she can please eat her cheese and crackers now. Of course I say yes and she starts to eat ravenously. I have noticed a bit of a pattern with this, she quite often doesn't eat her cheese and crackers at kindy but then wants them in the car and seems pretty hungry. So today I asked her why she isn't eating her cheese and crackers (I have asked before and not received a straight answer - that's 4 year olds for you) and she says 'because the teacher says we're not allowed to eat chips' (crisps). I say 'I beg your pardon?' and she repeats it. I tell her that they are not chips they are rice crackers and she says 'I know but the teacher saw me eating them one day and said we weren't allowed to bring chips to kindy'. Excuse me here...curse alert.....what.... the..... fuck?????

I have two problems with this, firstly I spend a great deal of time and effort to ensure that both of my children have healthy balanced lunches, wholegrain sandwich, 2 fruits and cheese and veggie sticks and a couple of plain, no salt, rice crackers or some variation on that. I am extremely pissed off that my child is going hungry because the teacher (mistakenly) decided that the snack was not appropriate, I am equally pissed off that she told the child not one of the parents.

Secondly, who the hell is paying for this educational experience...my bank balance indicates it's me, so if I want to give my child a bar of cadburys and 500g bag of crinkle cuts for lunch I fucking will (ok I won't but I hope you take my point) and they can shut the hell up about it.

I am getting very tired of schools and kindergartens making all the rules. As previously mentioned I'm paying for this, and trust me, it ain't cheap. As well as that I have also previously mentioned the amount of work it is to send your child to school or kindy these days with the homework and the events and the costumes and the shared lunches and the services and the raffles and the working bees and ....need I go on? Because seriously I could, it's endless.... It just seems to me that as parents we are expected to do more than ever before while haivng less say than ever before in how our chidlren are educated or even fed! I'm sick of the snide little memos that come home about ensuring the children have water to drink and make sure they have healthy snacks. I ALWAYS do both of those things and if some other parents aren't (and it bothers you that much) tell THEM not me!!!

Don't get me wrong, I fully appreciate that there are children who do not eat a balanced meal ever and that child abuse in all it's forms is rife in this world we live in. And of course I understand and share the concern of teachers over this, but please, give me break over the rice crackers.

Oh and if any helpful person feels the temptation to let me know about the downfalls of ricecrackers or how many rice grains die to make a rice cracker. I'm warning you, don't even think about it.

A morning in my house or how to have a nervous breakdown before 7am

Like so many people I am not a morning person, although if I am allowed to just get up, drink coffee read the papers, not communicate in any way and generally laze around I can feel almost warm hearted towards the pre 9am time slot. However, rarely do I experience such luxury. No. In my house mornings are busy, I'm reasonably organised these days, but I am still busy with morning duties and it creates a kind of chaos. So you can imagine my utter delight to realise that along with the usual morning insanity today I also had to produce a costume for Aislin.

Her pre-school are having a book launch to celebrate a pile of new books recently provided by the government and children were required to dress as their favourite book character. Aislin was thrilled at the prospect and said she'd like to go as a bear from the 'The Three Bears'. Well strange as this may seem I could not, for the life of me, find a bear costume in the wardrobe! So I had a look at what I did have .... and improvised. There was a pretty sort of long, floaty dress....a pair of wings and a wand (5 wands in fact).....and that was about it. So I told her how the coolest character in the known world is the Fairy Godmother from Cinderella. Fortunately she was impressionable this morning and accepted that happily. So we started to get ready...and it was halfway through the insanity of getting ready that I yelled the unforgettable words 'has anyone seen Aislin's tiara?'. Now there's something I don't say every day. I wondered what a stray passer-by might think if they heard that question emanating from our abode.

Anyway, off she went as the Fairy Godmother, albeit tiara-less, and I waved them off, shut the door and sat down with a coffee and the paper. Now that's more like it. Oh and if anyone thinks I might have taken a photo of the Fairy Godmother in the midst of this madness you are sadly mistaken. align="justify">

Under strict supervision

Today we went to the library. We have a good system when we go there, one of us will supervise the children in the 'kid's space' and the other can browse the books in the grown up library. Then we swap. Today I won the toss and got to escape to 'adult fiction' first (sounds saucy doesn't it). I browsed for a while, picked out a few titles I wanted and wandered back to the children's section.

When I got there the girls had chosen these books......

And were now doing this.......

While Daddy did this......

Of course he was doing it 'for the girls' and as you can see they were dying to play with it.

My life is like an episode of Seinfeld

Today I feel like all the energy has been drained out of me. I feel tired. And edgy. And slightly irritable. Which could have been a problem because I had to visit the doctor this morning with Hannah. She has an earache and last night had a temperature so I figured it might be a good idea to let a professional check it out. I say it could have been a problem because the last time I had to take Hannah to the doctor I left feeling the doctor was just a tad obnoxious (not our usual GP you see). If that had happened today it would have been quite likely that the doctor ended up needing...well....a doctor.

However, this time it was different. Once again because it was short notice I had to take my chances with another doctor in the practice - sigh - why can't my children give me more notice of their ailments? So we arrive at the surgery in good time and take up our positions in the waiting room. The doctor (surprisingly quickly) emerges and beckons Hannah into the office. In we go, we each take a seat and the doctor says 'so Hannah, what can I do for you today?' Now this seems quite innocent doesn't it? And in any other circumstance it would be, except this doctor had a funny voice. She was one of those grown women with a baby voice. Hannah was so taken aback she couldn't reply - just stared wide-eyed at this baby/woman in shock. To save embarrassment I quickly jumped in and told her what was wrong. She examined Hannah's ear, all the while babbling away in baby, and announced that Hannah's ear was red and had some fluid behind it but it wasn't infected. Then she examined Hannah's throat and said 'but her tonsils are huge and infected'. I experienced deja vu. Because this has happened before, Hannah's tonsilitis disguises itself as other things. All this time Hannah had hardly said a word, just kept staring in amazement at the freakishly large baby with the medical degree.

Once it was all over we took our prescription and bid farewell to 'Bubzilla' and she held the door for us as we walked out of her office. I felt Hannah's little hand slip into mine and then her puzzled voice began 'Mummy....?' so I tugged her quickly away saying 'I know, I know'.

We're having a party tonight!

My poor first born child has yet to 'properly' celebrate her 7th birthday. The actual date was the 18 June but if you read this blog you'll know that the late June early July period was slightly hectic, so the whole party thing was put on hold. However, a couple of weeks ago Tom and I decided we really ought to do something because really, the cost (emotionally and financially) of hosting a children's birthday party is probably less than the cost (emotionally and financially) of her future therapy if we don't.

So I began the search for a party venue that didn't involve me having to do anything met our high standards of fun and hygiene. The final decision was ice skating. Although we get pretty cold winters here, and last year half the plants in our garden died of frost bite, we don't get snow and ice. Coming from Scotland I think it's important that my children experience the torture and agony of sub zero temperatures the excitement of a winter wonderland. So ice skating it is. There is also something called 'snow play' and some sort of sled riding as well, I wasn't listening.

To keep with this party's 'Mummy is not doing a damn thing' theme I went and bought a birthday cake today. It's a nice one though, mud cake with a Happy Birthday message on it. I have been known to make birthday cakes. In fact most years I do, there have been sparkling stars, a moon, ladybirds, trains (Aislin likes trains a lot) and of course let's not forget the divorce-inducing pink fairy castle that Hannah requested for her 3rd birthday. Aislin was only 3 months old when Hannah turned 3 and at that stage I was delirious with exhaustion and the pain of mastitis so when she asked for the pink fairy castle I didn't really have the mental stability to think it through and scream 'NO!!' I was in charge of design and Tom was in charge of engineering. There were parts of this cake that required him to spend time in the shed with power tools. It was a difficult time. We have only recently started talking to each other again. However, the resulting cake looked lovely - it was so precarious you couldn't touch it and eating any of it was risky because of the splinters - but it was lovely. The saddest part is that my much loved father-in-law had to witness me on the morning of the party, attempting to decorate the cake, still in my dressing gown, leaking breast milk and saying 'fuck' a lot.

You'll understand why children's parties cause me a bit of anxiety.