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Entries in kids (5)

Monday
Dec012014

The Xmas Tree Goes Up When I Say It Goes Up. Not Now, Damnit!

The Thanksgiving food was not even completely cleared from the bench, table or faces of the children when Spike asked about the Xmas tree.

So, are we having a real tree or a fake one?

Ask me when it's Xmas time, dude.

I was having a small bout of diabetes, which was very much self-inflicted. This year, as well as the pumpkin cheesecake, I made Ben a dark chocolate salted caramel pie thingy that seriously could be used to kill things that are allergic to dark chocolate, salted caramel pie thingys. I'm getting a sugar coma just looking at it. Holy shit. And the kid wants to talk about the friggen Xmas tree?!

It's one of the perks of being married to a Yank. The Thanksgiving buffer. You can go to the shops in October without fear of coping a bauble in the eye. They've got Halloween to deal with. No Yuletides, instead you get ghouls by the pound and you will get caught in a fake spider web... it better be fake... Holy sacks-of-tainted-candy day, it better be fake?!

After the Witch Bits (TM) and Lolly Cauldrens have been put away, you're still safe. No Jolly Ol' St. Nick slipping into ShapeWear to shove himself down your chimney. Nor are there any Rudolphs - Nureyev or Gin Blossom-Nosed. Nope, you are greeted by great honking gobblers and Pilgrims as far as the eye can see. No Bing Crosby songs to murder in a lift, but you can while away the hours calling the Butterball Turkey Hotline for help with all your most intimate Meleagris needs. "Can you eat the snood?"

So, can we do the tree now?

Dude! I'm having a caloric collapshun here! It's STILL November - and I've still got smallpox soaked blankets to hand out to complete my genocide of an indigenous people tryptic.

Child looks at mother like she's poo'd on the festive floor.

Engages mild-whine mode.

But we ALWAYS put up the tree on Thanksgiving! I'm serious!

I just don't have an answer for that. Not one that doesn't begin with the phrase, "Oh ferfuckssake!" He's adament. ON Thanksgiving. Tree, now! Family traditon of decades standing. I didn't know kids could suffer from delusions of grandeur...

Can we look at that dark chocolate, salted caramel pie thingy again? Holy crap, I'm getting contact high.

It's not Xmas til Bill Murray says so.  The PLASTIC tree can probably go up this weekend. 3 weeks out. The box of lights can be untangled and the broken ornaments can be tossed.  It's December. Everyone breaath...

I give it 4 weeks til we start seeing Easter Hot Cross Buns in Woolies. 

Bill?

[obnoxious link removed because it wont allow you to turn off auto play.  thanks Ellen!  Google, Bill Murray, Xmas]

faheyxo 

Wednesday
Dec252013

Xmas 2013

Merry. Happy. Joyeux Noël. Crimby, Crumbly Chris Miss.

Kids have made out like ruthless bandits. Bonsoir Fancy Pants; actually surprised this year! (yay woyf!) and woyf's gifts leave all others to shiver, pale in their feeble shadows.  Yay Me!!!!!

We've had a pretty fortunate and wonderful year. New jobs, new opportunities, happy, healthy kids and old careers rekindled with a kind of flame thrower intensity that can be seen from all corners of space.


2014 promises to be a tearer of balls and a winner of, Best In Show at every Royal Aggy up and down the Eastern and Western seaboards.

Please enjoy this year's subtle renderings of a 'fun Xmas movie' - "It should really have Zombies in it, Mum." So, Zombies it is! 


Much love to you and yours from us and ours. xoxoxox

Wednesday
May012013

I Win At Having Kids (or I Could Have Been A Lemming Mother)

 

So here's something they don't ever fully prepare you for... the oneupmanship and overacheivingness of the other parents. Wow. It's proper full-on! And my favourite part, insidious and creepy like unchecked arse cancer.

Lemming Mothers I call 'em. All lined up. All ready to fling themselves and their offspring off the cliff if you say your kid can.

It starts EARLY. Like totes early. Like while you're still in hospital trying to come to grips with your swollen milky jugs. "How's he feeding?" she asks, smugly.

"Sitting up using utensils." you lie.

"Sleeping through the night yet?" says Lemming Mum, while she breastfeeds twins, simultaneously.

"He's barely 24 hours old..." you sputter, as you hook up the breast-pump backwards, through your tears.

But she's not listening. She's only asked to lead to her next proclamation.

"Tarquin was sleeping through at nine minutes old." She looks you right in the eye. "We're so blessed." then she changes sides with such prowess you don't even get a glimpse of her gnawed on nipples.

What can you say? "Sleeping through, already eh? Hmmm, I hear the mentally ill sleep a lot too," is what I chose.

Don't worry, they don't hear you. The nurse who's dropped a tray of tiny baby bottles did though. She gives me a thumbs up as I shoved another wilted cabbage leaf in to my nursing bra...

Lemming Mother has moved on to the next flustered bag of hormones. "Hi, how's she feeding?" It goes on. And on. And onnnnnnnnn

Admittedly, I should be used to it by now. My kids are 6 and 4 and the three FULL days of breastfeeding I did with my two are long forgotten (you never forget) mammary memories yet I still find the existence of Mother Lemming, confronting.

Most recently we encountered her when Mo bought home Boris, the Kinder Toy to spend a few nights. Boris arrived in a bag that contained a folder filled with pages documenting the visits he'd had with some of the other kids in Mo's class. What we learned from this exercise is some of Mo's classmate's mothers LOVE to scrapbook. They love it hard and they take it capital S, seriously. Four pages of the creative art of added photos, memorabilia, journaling, and embellishments. To be perfectly frank, Boris'd had the shit art directed out of him! 

 Hilarious B, to whom I am betrothed said I should just slip a blank DVD into the folders pocket to intimidate the next mother. Hilaire! Mo and I settled on a comic strip kind of thing with photos and hilarious prose. Take that, Georgia's unfunny mother with too many different kinds of pinking shears and stamps!

The competitiveness is in full force at sporting events, where you expect it. Football mothers scare the shit out of me and not just because they're toothless and drunk. The tennis coaching fathers who've taken a leaf from Damir Dokic's book and the Laurie Lawrence like enthusiasm poolside during the "just get your face wet without having a meltdown" pre swimming lesson classes is all there. But you know, you expect it there.

My girlfriend confided an hilarious story to me not so long ago about one of these Lemming Mothers in her kid's class. She'd directly asked Cindy*not her real name what level reader her Prep son was on. Cindy*her name doesn't even start with C had been subjected to almost a year of this crazy woman's incessant quest for oneupmanship so she'd refused to engage. "I have no idea?!" "But you must! You must know what level he's on!" Crazy Lady insisted. "Nope, no clue." lied Cindy*she's more a, Tori "It's on the small sticker on the back of the book!" screeched Lemming Woman. "Meh." said my friend. The next day Cindy noticed that Lemming was standing back. Soon, Lemming's child approached Cindy directly. "Hi Harry's mum, what level reader is Harry on?" "Level 14, Ethan. How are you this morning?" She tousled his hair and he ran back to his mother. All was quiet across the playground until Lemming Ma heard from Ethan. She stood upright and spat. "What bullshit, ullshit, ullshit!" she said out loud.  It echoes up here in the hills. 

It's not in the baby books. It's not on the parenting websites but you should know. Forewarned is forearmed and you can have fun with them as Cindy*Cindy IS her real name, you know :-)  and my B have suggested.

Are YOU a Lemming Mother? If not, I bet you know one.

fahey x

Monday
Feb042013

Have You Checked The Children?

I am childless.

Not in any legal sense, I believe I DO have to go and collect each of my progeny when "the bell goes" but for right now, I am childless.

These two ----> are both at their respective places of higher learning/germ incubators. BOTH could not be happier to be out of the house!

It's kinda weird. 

I'm reading similar tales from friends and friends of friends on my twitter feed. FaceBlech has a mention of it too.

There's lots of:

"It's too quiet here."

"I feel lost."

"Anyone wanna meet up for something? Anyone?! Hullo?"

Me?  Well, you are NOT going to understand this at all, unless you too have small humans in your home, but...


I just had lunch, right? Cop this, By My Self. The WHOLE thing. In ONE go!
I know!
Ridiculous! As IF that kind of thing can even happen!?

No one asked for "just one bite". No one snuck (it's a word) in a slurped up the dregs of my coffee - which as everyone knows, is the best bit. AND get this, it was still WARM!  No one complained about their cheese being 'weird", no one wanted to swap a "yucky" grape for a "rounder one". Pfff! Amazetastigals!

With full disclosure, in that time I have also ahd nine panic attacks each time my new phone (that's another story!) makes a noise because I think I'm late for picking up the smaller of my two posers. I am not. I've got another HOUR to myself. A whole human hour. Woo.

There's probably washing to do (oh shit there IS stuff in the machine I must try not to forget) and the floor could really do with a clean of some sort but, that shit can wait until Wednesday when Young Johnny Hands On Hips goes back to kinder again.

Ok, I admit it, the silence is WEIRD!

Here are MY Simple Tips To Alleviate The Weirdness

Yelling  Punctuate the silence with random, "Stop It!" and "Get OFF your brother!" and "Because I absolutely fercucken said so!" 's.  Don't worry about the neighbours. She's just WISHES she thought of it first.

Mess  Take it upon yourself to smear vegemite on your clean frock, right where everyone can see it. If you're feeling adventurous, you can spill a full glass of something sticky all over the floor. Draw on the wall, you know you want to. 

ABC2  Crank it. And admit it. You miss hearing the soul destroying repetitive droning of that sinister Yo Gabba Gabba.

Wipe A Strangers Ass Ok don't. If you want to get OUT of practice, be it on your head.

Drinking. Well, der!

Simple, homespun methods guarenteed to lift you out of the weirdness. 

Don't worry, school holidays are coming up again soon.

*urgh*

Viva le School Year!

Spike and Mo's Mum xxxx

"MUMMA'S COMING, BABY!"

 

Tuesday
Dec252012

A Stop Motion Merry Xmas

Hey! So there's all that food and all those presents!  The house is resting under a typhoon of shell packaging, gift wrap and gross tonnes of over indulgence.

We decided to do a Stop Animation movie for Xmas this year. We expect the awards to start rolling in, any second now.

Please enjoy our Xmas 2012 video which is excellent enough to show off to your friends, relatives, associates and assorted well-wishers.  And for the first time - this is a world premiere, for those with a good internet connection only - we are making ourselves available in high-definition too!  I know, high def, who'da thunked it?  Take that, terrorists!

 

Ben would like to apologize for the quality of the narration, but the directrix wouldn't hear of changing it.

I would like to unpologise for the cuteness of the smallened actors. It's just how we made 'em.

Merry All That, you lot!

Lotsa love, 

ME, Him, Mini Me-Male Version and Interesting Combo Platter Boy xxxxxxxxxx