Have a laugh on me

We're not all in the same boat, some of us struggle to even get in the boat!


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Children of the Corn

It’s the freakiest thing to wake up in the middle of the night and find a small child hovering over you, saying nothing but staring at you blank faced.

In a scene scarily similar to the Children of the Corn, my kids just appear out of nowhere and scare the bejesus out of me in the middle of the night.

I’d almost wish they would come screaming in the room or tried to shake the shit out out of me instead of just being quiet, still and eerily peaceful – waiting for me to feel their presence, which I always do.

This morning after poking around in the pantry I stood back and there was No. 3 – right behind me – just looking up at me with his big blue eyes, staring. I got a hell of a fright. Not to mention I nearly stood on and squashed the poor wee fella.

Kids have a way of just being there, creeping up on you when you’re trying to hide in the pantry and scoff chippies or a few chocolate biscuits without them seeing.

Or they quietly glide across the room to listen to your phone conversation and then later ask you what a ”stupid son of a bitch is”. This usually happens when the husband is home, typical.

The strange thing is my children are almost never quiet, still or peaceful and so to wake up and find them in a trance-like state is very off-putting.

Perhaps I should put a bell around their necks at night time.

 

 

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Sneaky sneaky

I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature/nurture debate recently – but not for the reasons you might think.

For the life of me I can’t understand where or how No.1 learned how to be so sneaky! Aside from the blatant lies that flow so freely from her cherub lips, she’s super crafty.

I’m pretty sure I haven’t been crafty or sneaky around her for the past few years, so she can’t have picked it up from copying me, but maybe she’s picked it up from my husband 😉  (Okay, so it’s more likely to be from my DNA but it’s so much easier to blame someone else don’t you reckon?!)

Since we could communicate with each other my motto has been that if she tells me the truth she won’t get in trouble – but it seems to be getting harder to stick by that mantra. Mainly because she never seems to tell the truth!

And now she has two younger brothers to blame things on she has really mastered the art of sneakiness. I mean it’s not the end of the world by any stretch but it does bug me.

The funny thing is, being her mum I know what she’s thinking before she does it and can often cut her off at the pass. For example, the three slices of apples she was asked to eat just magically disappeared in 30 seconds. When she delivers me an empty bowl, I smile sweetly and ask ‘ which rubbish bin or couch did you hide them in?’ The look on her face is priceless and she proceeds to fish them out with her head hung low.

Or then there’s the ole’ I’ve got eyes in the back of my head and can see everything you do” – if this doesn’t work I pull out the old Santa card, just perfect at this time of year.

“Remember Santa sees everything and you really don’t want to be on the naughty list so you’d better start telling me the truth”.

She even has a knack for the ole’ Winona Ryder and Lindsay Lohan trick, yes that’s right taking things that aren’t hers because ”I really want them and I don’t have them”.

A few years back I even had to scoop out a potential contraband item from underneath the stroller at a department store. She was a lot younger then but was on the cusp of knowing better, and she saw something she wanted and just took it.

Thankfully before the mean door lady, who thinks all mums are shoplifters, found it I fished it out. I then proceeded to gave her a lecture about how mummy could go to jail for stealing etc etc.

Imagine that – being fed three times a day, not having to do the dishes, or washing, tidying up, and I’d even get a quiet room all to myself, this is sounding better by the second.

But dreams aside, I’ve realised that even if you try to be the best role model you can, sometimes there’s not much  you can do to stop nature from taking its course.

And it’s probably best that way anyhow.


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Sanity at the washing line

I think the neighbours believe I’m borderline schizophrenic or have tourettes.

Not for the fact that I often wander aimlessly out to get the newspaper in some pretty bizarre fashions or that I can just stand on my front lawn and stare blindly into the mountains without blinking.

But because my washing line is where I can be alone and let everything out, including swearing my head off and ranting and raving about ”why can’t my kids just leave me alone for *&%@ 1 minute”.

(No 2. just ran up to me and said No.1 just farted in his face. I had to hold myself back from saying ‘good job’ )

Anyway, it’s so important to have a mental break from the constant demands of life in general, even if it’s just staring into the horizon for 30 seconds without having to patiently answer questions from an inquisitive chatterbox.

Or going to the toilet without an audience of 3 – now that’s wishful thinking.

I do know that for those 5 minutes when I’m hanging out clothes I completely ignore everything that’s going on inside my house. I ignore the screaming and fighting and just hope like hell No.3 hasn’t decided to throw more of his toys down the toilet.

But for those precious moments I have a place of my own and some peace and quiet – well, if I’m not cussing as much as Gordan Ramsey on a good day.


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It’s not a democracy it’s a dictatorship!

There is way too much free will in this household and it’s all my fault.

As a first-time mum a few years ago I thought it was a good idea to give my children some say in their early years, BIG MISTAKE!

I should have never given them any options and stuck with the ‘it’s my way or the highway approach’.

For example, at breakfast time I’ve just realised that I ask my children what cereal they want? What a bloody idiot! Because the one they ask for isn’t the one they want and I end up with half a dozen bowls of soggy slop that I feel obligated to eat (out of respect for all those starving children in Ethiopia).

I no longer make anything for myself to eat because I know I’ll be eating what my children didn’t.

But I digress. I now give them two options and the one they pick is the one they eat. If they don’t eat it – well tough bloody shit and that’s it. But really if I was smart I would just put what I buy for them on their plate and say ‘eat’.

The point is I’ve given my children too much say in their early years… but I just don’t have the heart to be hard ass, although that appears to be changing.

This has been made much easier by the arrival of No.3. Everything I used to worry about, including my waistline, has gone out the window.

For example, if my children bail me up for a biscuit not long after they’ve refused breakfast, I give them one because I can’t STAND the shit fight that ensues.

And when we’re out in public I no longer cringe when they do inappropriate things, I simply turn a blind eye and pretend they’re not mine. Often to the point of nodding my head disapprovingly at the child.

I can go to bed at night and sleep – despite knowing there is sink full of dishes and an overflowing basket full of clothes that need folding.

It’s also a major win if we are all wearing knickers when we leave the house.

I’m just saying some things just aren’t worth worrying about anymore – or more to the point, I just don’t have the energy to give a shit.

In saying that, today I did manage to avoid procrastinating and have completed 5 articles, I have also sent a few dozen emails, done a grocery shop, folded and put away 4 loads of washing, cooked dinner, comforted my screeching baby, done the dishes, been nice to the husband (sort of, and so far) and watered the garden.

Same shit, different day!  🙂


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Working from home isn’t all shits and giggles but it does have its advantages.

Not having to get dressed properly, not having to hold in my stomach all day, not having to be nice to annoying, nosy or bitchy workmates and not having to wear shoes – EVER!

And if it’s stinking hot I can look inappropriate in a singlet top without worrying about my tuck shop arms knocking out an unsuspecting person who passes me by.

I can also go for a swim in my birthday suit – too much information? Well my kids are always telling me that sharing is caring.

Then there’s the fact I can sneak in watching an episode of Revenge in between interviewing clients, hanging out the washing, doing the dishes, starting dinner, changing sheets and writing press releases.

Of course when husband arrives home I make sure I’ve got a HUMUNGOUS pile of washing to fold and make a few remarks about how I just didn’t have time to get it done during the day (because I watched two episodes of Revenge not one!!!)

As for the not so great parts about working from home – I NEVER GET TO LEAVE WORK!

And because I don’t actually attend an actual place of work I swear people just think I sit on my bum all day and do nothing –  well they are right about the first part.

It also requires a much higher level of motivation to work from home that being at an actual place of work, where you are watched and it’s frowned upon to sing out loud to your favourite song in your birthday suit (after just getting out of the pool!)

Sick days don’t exist, you don’t free cake at morning tea time and you can’t show off your weight loss to peers (okay well not that I’d be doing that, but I’m working on it)

And with 3 kids there is always a helluva mess to clean up somewhere, whether it’s food smears on the wall that catch your eye or a half eaten carrot under the couch (which I’ll probably leave as it’s only been there one day and No.3 is teething at the moment and he might enjoy that later).

And don’t even get me started on the numerous ways to procrastinate on the internet, eBay, social networking, email, banking.
And let’s not forget those cheap discount websites that offer daily deals for suckers like me who buy something because it seems too good of an opportunity to pass up!

Right now I have 4 articles to write, but I’m going to finish off breakfast dishes, put a load of washing on, pick up Makka Pakka off the floor and try find a home for 25 matchbox cars I’m sick of tripping over.

The thing is I’ve a little secret weapon, it’s called a deadline! So no matter what happens I have to get the work done by a certain time, and I do. This is because of another little trick I like to call ‘working well under pressure’.

This comes from my years on a daily newspaper, where if you didn’t get it done, it didn’t get published and shit would hit the fan, and your rival paper would get the scoop.

And I hate that because I’m extremely competitive.

I’m not as bad as I used to be though, I once got an ‘F’ for sportsmanship at primary school because if I didn’t win I’d have a meltdown.

Over the years I’ve become a lot smarter and have learned to harness the power of competition for good not evil. Now it only comes out when it matters and when I know I can triumph!

Must get back to ‘work’….

 

 

 


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Spaghetti

If you’d walk past my house or been unlucky enough to visit at 5.30 this evening you would have been wondering how I was allowed to procreate!

For starters we were watching Christmas DVD’s so loud the neighbour’s dogs were trying to join in. Next of all, I had just asked No.1 to find No.3 in case he had found the lollipop he had dropped outside yesterday, and yes he had discovered it in the dirt and was making short work of it.

No.2 was running around without pants shouting wee,wee, no poo poo and trying to body slam No.3 any chance he could.

With husband stuck in traffic, we sat down to eat messy Spaghetti, with Wiggles Christmas still playing (kill me) but at least there was some peace. I was just about to take a HUGE gulp of medicinal compound (wine) when said husband arrived, crap.

Just as my hard working, easy going, tired husband arrives home, No.3 decides the dinner on his plate felt lonely, so he threw it down on the ground to play with its friends, on my recently mopped floor.

While no-one was looking I did the most sensible thing someone in my position would do, take a BIG sip, okay it was a gulp!

Who knew that dinners, in fact every meal, would be such a horrific experience with children. I thought they just ate what we ate, did what we did, and smiled nicely and said nothing.

But unfortunately times have changed and we can no longer scare our kids to be quiet like many of our parents did!!!

Not that I would want to (insert sarcastic face), in fact I love being asked to read No.1’s recently received Santa mail letter from Westfield 7 times (yawn). But it’s true, back in the days kids were seen and not heard.

I don’t agree with that necessarily, but that is a subject for another day. Gulp, night night!